Captain Future 04 - The Triumph of Captain Future (Fall 1940)

by Edmond Hamilton

  “Doctor Qarth had stayed behind to gather up his papers and money,” Otho chuckled. “I jumped the cursed Saturnian, overpowered him, and then hurriedly copied his appearance. And these simple criminals are taking us right to the secret headquarters of the Life-lord. We’ll be waiting there when the Life-lord comes. It’ll be easy to grab him.”

  Joan felt a surge of relief and new hope. The resourceful android’s plan was a real chance to capture the Life-lord!

  The car had left Ops and was racing eastward over the rolling plain, beneath the’ brilliant moons and Rings.

  “Where are they going?” Otho murmured puzzledly. “There’s nothing in this direction except the fungus forest.”

  The disguised android stiffened in horrified amazement, “The Life-lord’s headquarters can’t be there! It’s death even to enter the fungus forest!”

  Chapter 9: Horror in the Museum

  BACK in the Governor’s office in the city Ops, Captain Future stared down with dangerous gray eyes at the frozen body of Zin Zibo, the Venusian bio-physicist.

  Curt’s eyes lifted like a knife-slash to the faces of the appalled men in the lighted room. His voice sounded like a whiplash.

  “Someone murdered Zin Zibo to keep him from revealing his killer’s name. The murderer tossed a darkness bomb. In the impenetrable obscurity, he jabbed Zin Zibo’s cheek with a needle tipped with Plutonian freezing venom.”

  “What a horrible way to die!” breathed young Renfrew Keene, staring down at the body.

  The famous “freezing-venom” of Pluto was such a ghastly poison that the very mention of it always produced a shudder. The venom was taken from a peculiar sea-snake found in the icy ocean of Pluto, the Sea of Avernus. It had never been successfully analyzed, but it was known to act as a chemical catalyst inside living blood, which it changed into an effective refrigerant compound that froze the whole body instantly.

  There was revulsion, horror, fear, on every face that Captain Future scanned. Khol Kor, the tall, blue Saturnian Governor, had been trained to hardship, but he was shocked. Sus Urgal, the jovial Martian author, now looked far from happy. Martin Graeme, the sour-faced Earthman ethnologist, could not hide his horror. Blond young Renfrew Keene was pale with loathing. All seemed frozen themselves by the breath of alien terror that had entered the office.

  Graeme found his voice first.

  “You don’t think one of us is responsible for the murder, do you?” he demanded, his acidulous face anxious.

  “Zin Zibo was about to reveal something,” stated Curt Newton. “Zibo said he believed the man who found the Fountain of Life, the man who is now the Life-lord was right in this room! He was starting to tell us about a set of records in the Museum archives that had been stolen by someone in this room. At that instant, the darkness bomb was thrown.”

  Curt Newton knelt and examined the stiff, contorted body of Zin Zibo. Beside it lay a broken glass needle with a thin metal haft.

  “Ezra, search every one in this room,” he ordered over his shoulder. “Grag will help you.”

  By the time Curt had completed his examination of Zin Zibo, the search had been finished.

  “Nothin’ on any of them, Cap’n Future,” reported old Ezra Gurney.

  Curt spoke to Khol Kor, the Governor.

  “Zin Zibo mentioned a secretary. You’d better notify him of this.”

  The lanky Saturnian official went to the televisor on the desk and spoke a few words into it. Then he quickly returned.

  Captain Future’s gray eyes swept over the men facing him. Curt felt that this tragedy had been engineered in his presence as a personal challenge to him — a challenge that was almost contemptuous. His voice was harshly accusing.

  “The man who did this is someone who, like Zin Zibo, had been searching the Museum archives. Graeme, you admitted studying those archives.”

  Martin Graeme, the sour-faced ethnologist, hastily replied.

  “Yes. But Keene and Sus Urgal have delved into those archives too, remember! All of us were searching the journals and maps of old expeditions into the unexplored Saturnian lands. We were all looking for some clue to the supposed whereabouts of the Fountain.”

  CURT knew that was true. Zin Zibo’s reference, just before the tragedy, might have applied to any of these three men.

  “Danged if this ain’t a puzzle,” muttered Ezra Gurney to Curt. “One of ‘em’s lyin’, but which?”

  “Shall I knock their heads together till they all tell truth, Master?” asked Grag helpfully in his booming voice.

  The men paled at the robot’s suggestion Martin Graeme cried out hastily.

  “You have no right to threaten us, Captain Future! Someone outside this room might have flung in the darkness bomb and then entered and killed Zin Zibo.”

  “Yes, that may be it,” supported young Renfrew Keene. “Someone might have wanted to throw the blame on one of us in the room.”

  “Whoever did it, I know it wasn’t me,” said Sus Urgal, the Martian author, nervously. He added emphatically: “I wish I’d never heard of the Fountain of Life legend.”

  Simon Wright, the Brain, broke his brooding silence. His voice rasped to Captain Future.

  “I don’t think it was anyone from outside the room, lad. I heard no door open, and my ears are sharper than human ones.”

  They were interrupted by the hasty entrance of a young Venusian. He stopped and stared in honor at Zin Zibo’s frozen body.

  “You’re Zibo’s secretary?” Curt Newton demanded.

  “Yes, I’m Educ Ex,” the young man stammered shakenly. “Who killed Doctor Zibo?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Curt answered decisively. “But I think we will, before long.”

  “”This is frightful!” Educ Ex cried. “Doctor Zibo left a big scientific practice on Venus to follow this search for a rejuvenation method. He was eager to add the discovery to scientific knowledge. And it’s brought him only a horrible death.”

  “Did Zin Zibo ever mention to you the theft of certain records from the Museum archives?” Curt asked.

  “Never.” the pale secretary answered dully. Then, he addressed Future in a broken voice: “Can I take his body now? There’s a liner leaving for Venus tomorrow.

  He — he would want to be buried on his native world.”

  Curt nodded sympathetically. “I understand. You can take him.”

  Silently they watched as the grieving secretary had the corpse removed. In that interval, Curt came to a decision. He looked at the Brain.

  “We may be able to find out just what records were stolen from the Museum archives, and by whom. That seems to be our practical line of investigation now.”

  The Brain seemed astounded.

  “Why, yes, lad. But —”

  Captain Future spoke sharply to Graeme, Renfrew Keene and Sus Urgal.

  “I’m letting you go for the time being. But none of you is to leave the city of Ops. Understand?”

  Surprisedly the three men hastily agreed. Then, glad to be getting away, they departed.

  KHOL KOR, the tall Governor, was staring at Curt Newton in amazement.

  “You let them go?” he cried. “Why, one of them must be the murderer of Zin Zibo. You freed the man you’re after!”

  “It won’t do any good to lock them up in prison cells,” Curt Newton pointed out. “If one of them is the Life-lord, he’d just sit in his cell and remain silent. His lieutenants would carry on the syndicate’s poisonous traffic. We’d get nowhere that way. But by letting them go, we’re giving the Life-lord a chance to betray himself.”

  “I think I understand,” Khol Kor said dubiously. “You mean to have all three of them shadowed?”

  “Of course,” Curt replied. “We’ll go over to Planet Police headquarters at once and arrange to have three of their best men trail those suspects. Grag, bring Simon. Come along, Ezra.”

  The Brain, Grag, and old Ezra Gurney all looked wonderingly at Captain Future. They rapidly crossed from the Governmen
t Building to the smaller neighboring structure, where the Planet Police of this world had its central offices. But only when they were in an office of the Police headquarters did the Brain voice his wonder to Curt.

  “Lad, are you losing your wits?” Simon demanded. “Why did you let all those suspects know we’re going to the Museum to investigate? The guilty one will know just what we’re doing!”

  Curt grinned at Brain.

  “I wanted the guilty man to know we’re going to the Museum, Simon. Unless I’m wrong, the murderer will seize the opportunity to visit the Museum. He will try to scrag us before we can learn more. When he comes — we’ll be waiting for him.”

  “Imps of space, I see your idea!” exclaimed Ezra Gurney, his faded eyes lighting. “You’re settin’ a little trap for the murderer, who’d show himself up to be the Life-lord. The Museum visit’s just a blind.”

  “Not entirely a blind,” Captain Future replied earnestly. “I really want to investigate those Museum archives. I’m pretty sure now that the Life-lord, whoever he is, got his first clue to the Fountain from the inscription in the Machine City. But that inscription probably told only that the Fountain of Life was somewhere on Saturn. It may have given a general, vague location, but probably not much more.

  “So the Life-lord came to Saturn and searched old records in the Museum archives. He found a clue to the exact location of the Fountain. To prevent anyone else from finding the secret he abstracted those records. So, if we can find out just what records were stolen, we may find out for ourselves where the Fountain is.”

  “Say, that’s smart!” Ezra said admiringly. “But you still want me to have men shadowing all three of those suspects?”

  “All four of them, Ezra,” Curt said gravely. “Khol Kor, the Governor, was in that room, too.”

  The old marshal stared. “You don’t think that Khol Kor —”

  “It’s not what I think or don’t think that matters,” Curt Newton replied. “In a matter like this, we can’t overlook any chances. Have Police agents shadow all of them.”

  Curt scribbled a few words on a piece of paper and handed it to Ezra.

  “Send this message to Commander Anders at General HQ of the Planet Police at Earth,” he asked. “Save his answer for me.”

  Ezra stared puzzledly at the written words.

  “I’ll do that, though I don’t see what good this information can be to you.”

  Captain Future delayed a moment longer, his tanned face worried.

  “Otho should have been back by now with Joan. I can’t understand it.”

  “That crazy android is probably off on another of his harebrained jaunts,” suggested Grag vindictively.

  “If he gets back with Joan, tell him to wait for me here,” Curt told Ezra, “We’re going to the Museum. Come along, Grag.”

  GRAG picked up the Brain and followed Captain Future out of the building.

  “First I want something from the Comet,” Curt said.

  The Comet still rested in the dark, paved court behind the Government Building. From a locker Curt took a delicate thermocouple.

  “Leave Eek here,” he ordered Grag. “Then set the lock.”

  Reluctantly Grag deposited the little moon-pup in his cage of invulnerable metal in a corner of the ship. The robot set the device which would repel intruders from the ship. Paralyzing forces were automatically released by the prowlers themselves.

  With Grag carrying the Brain’s case, Captain Future and his two comrades started toward Ops Museum.

  The hour was late. The stupendous Rings still slashed the starry, sky south of the zenith, but only two moons remained in the heavens. When Ops slept, it was a vast silent pattern of blinking lights.

  Curt Newton and the two Futuremen met no one as they rapidly made their way to their destination. The Museum stood in a large park that was surrounded by a high wall. Inside that wall were zoological and botanical gardens, and the massive, oblong, black bulk of the Museum itself.

  The Saturnian guard at the gate started to warn off Curt Newton.

  “No one allowed inside after sunset. You can’t —”

  As the man made out the mighty metal shape of Grag and the watching eyes of the brain, he stopped short. His own eyes popped in amazement. Curt held out his left hand, showed the big ring of revolving planet-jewels.

  “Captain Future!” gasped the Saturnian. “Why, what —”

  “Call all the guards here at once,” Curt ordered crisply.

  The guard obeyed without question. That strange ring was a talisman identifying the one man whom few people in the System would have dared to question.

  A dozen guards assembled rapidly. They were uniformed Saturnians who stared in awe at Curt and the two Futuremen. Curt spoke incisively.

  “You’re dismissed for the night. I’ll be responsible to your superiors. Is everything locked up?”

  “Yes, sir,” a captain of guards answered quickly. “Here’s the master electro-key to every door and gate.”

  “Good,” said Curt, taking the electro-key, which was a thin metal tube. “You can all go home now. Speak to nobody about this.”

  When the guards had gone, Curt and his comrades started through the grounds toward the looming bulk of the Museum.

  They passed through the botanical gardens. Here were collected representative plants, trees and flowers from all over the System. Jovian copper trees shone metallically in the Ring-light. Venusian swamp lilies cast their heavy fragrance on the night air. The varied scents of beautiful clumps of Earth roses, Martian fireflowers, Uranian air-blossoms, were all mingled together. And they saw purple and blue blooms that were native to Saturn. All the vegetation of Saturn was represented except the dread fungus-forests.

  The zoological gardens lay nearer the Museum. In cages and tanks were strange beasts from every world. Huge, furry six-legged korlats came from Charon, moon of Pluto. Gliding, jellylike crawlers had been captured in the Jupiter jungles.

  Big, scaled, ferocious marsh-Tigers came from Venus alongside the royal, marred lions from Earth. Even two of the rare, armadillolike sun dogs from the Hot Side of Mercury were present. In a tank of great size swam an enormous-mouthed swallower from the Neptunian sea.

  Besides these beasts from other worlds, the animal life of Saturn was fully represented. Hornless deer of the Great Plains had learned to live in enclosures near the cages of their enemies, huge blue grass-tigers. A lumbering giant chameleon roared up its full twenty feet and darted its looping tongue vainly through the bars. A colony of the semi-intelligent great ants, or myrmidonia, swarmed restlessly in a glassite cage. Penned nearby was one of the great gray Silicae, or metal-eating monsters of the south.

  ALL the planetary beasts were roused by the unfamiliar scent of Captain Future. They made the night ring with blood-chilling howls, hisses and screams of ferocity as Curt and his comrades passed.

  “Nice, quiet little place,” Curt said ruefully. “It’s well you didn’t bring Eek, Grag. He’d have been scared out of his wits.”

  “Eek is not as cowardly as everybody thinks, Master,” Grag defended. “He just doesn’t like excitement.”

  Captain Future chuckled. But he said no more, for he knew how deeply attached Grag was to the mischievous moon-pup.

  The dark facade of the Museum loomed before them. The door was locked. But a thin beam from the master electrokey was swiftly tuned to the frequencies of the electro-lock. It set the door swinging open.

  They entered a dark enormous hall of metal statues of the heroes of Saturnian history. Their heels rang on the metal floor, and the metal walls sent the echoes bouncing back.

  “Grag, I want you to stand guard here,” Curt instructed. “You did a good job of imitating a statue when you played that joke on Otho. You can repeat the performance here.”

  “I don’t like to be a statue, Master,” sulked Grag.

  “You’ll be one and like it,” Curt declared. “Get on a pedestal. Let anyone come in who wants to enter t
he Museum but don’t let anyone leave!”

  Unwillingly Grag lifted one of the statues from its pedestal. He set it aside and took its place. Standing motionless in the semi-dark, the big metal robot looked exactly like one of the statues.

  Curt picked up the Brain and started through the Museum for the archives. They passed first through the Gallery of Science, in which loomed exhibits of ato-generators, rocket-motors, and other energy devices.

  The Museum was a silent, awesome place, its great metal galleries illumined by shafts of Ring-light from the windows. Vague, strange shapes of the exhibits that had been brought from far worlds towered high all about them.

  In the Gallery of Planetary Archaeology, a great stone head from one of the cities of the Ancients on Jupiter leered down at them. A fishlike idol, dredged from Neptune’s sea, glared ahead with jeweled eyes. Two basalt monsters from under Pluto’s ice seemed about to spring at each other.

  As they went through the Gallery of Native Saturnian Archaeology, Curt Newton stopped to play his fluoric flashlamp on a carved relief. Crumbling with time, it depicted a group of men with large wings, flying high above the ground. He read the inscription under it.

  Ancient Saturnian relief, origin unknown, found in the Northern Plains. It is believed to depict the mythical winged men, or Qualus.

  “The winged men who, legend says, guarded the Fountain of Life,” muttered Curt thoughtfully. “And if one legend is true —”

  “The other may be true?” the Brain finished. “I doubt it, lad. Nobody’s ever seen or heard of winged people on this world.”

  “A lot of Saturn is still unexplored,” Curt reminded him. “Still, that can wait. The archives are really what interests me.”

  He soon found the room of archives, a great hall crowded with racks of metal filing-cases, and with an exhaustive card-index system.

  Curt but Simon Wright’s case on a table, and adjusted the thermocouple instrument from the Comet beside the Brain.

  “Watch this, Simon,” he asked. “This thermocouple’s sensitive enough to warn us if any other warmblooded being enters the building. I got the idea from those mechanical guards of the Machine City.”