Captain Future 01 - The Space Emperor (Winter 1940) (6 page)

“Here we are,” Curt muttered finally, easing back a throttle. “We’re west of South Equatoria.”

“Not far west, I think,” rasped Simon Wright, from the special pedestal upon which his brain-case rested.

Beneath them lay a vast, heaving sea, bathed in silvery light by the three moons now in the sky. It was one of the thirty tremendous oceans of the monarch planet, and endless watery plain whose moonlit surface heaved in great billows toward the sky.

Curt had leveled off, and now the
Comet
screamed eastward low above the tossing silver ocean. Under the brilliant rays of Ganymede and Europa and Io, the waste of waters stretched to the far horizons in magnificent splendor.

Moon-bats, those weird Jovian birds that for some mysterious reason never fly except when the moons shine, were circling high above the waters. Their broad wings shone in the silver light with uncanny iridescence, due to some strange photochemical effect.

Schools of flame-fish, small fish that glowed with light because of their habit of feeding on radioactive sea-salts, swam just under the surface. The triple head of hydra, a species of big sea-snake always found twined in curious partnerships of three, reared above the waves. Far northward a “stunner,” like an enormous flat white disc of flesh, shot up out of the moonlit sea and came down with a thunderous shock that would stun all fish immediately beneath and make them easy prey.

The
Comet
drove on low above the silver-lit ocean teeming with strange life. Under the three big, bright moons, the teardrop ship cleaved the atmosphere like a meteor, hurrying toward the perilous rendezvous with mystery that Curt Newton was determined to keep.

“Lights ahead, master,” boomed Grag, the robot’s photoelectric eyes peered keenly.

“Yes, it’s South Equatoria,” Curt said. “Those are the lights of Jovopolis.”

Far ahead a low black coast rose from the moon-lit ocean. A little inland lay a big bunch of lights, dominated by the red-and-green lamps of the lofty spaceport tower.

Beyond the city lights stretched the black obscurity of the big plantations and the deep jungles beyond. And in the horizon the sky was painted by a dazzling aurora of twitching, quivering red rays — the crimson glare flung up by the distant Fire Sea.

“Only Saturn has more wonderful nights than this,” Curt said, feeling even in his tensity the weird beauty of it.

“You’re not going to land openly in Jovopolis?” Simon Wright questioned Curt.

Captain Future shook his red head at the question.

“No, we’ll drop down secretly at the edge of the spaceport.”

THE
Comet
glided with muffled rocket-tubes over the moonlit mud flats along the shore, against which the great lunar tide of the Jovian ocean was hurling itself in mighty combers. Silent as a shadow, the little teardrop ship approached the spaceport, avoiding the docks and sinking down at the unlighted edge of the field.

Curt Newton cut the cyclotrons and stood up. He had already set his gravity equalizer, so that he did not feel the full power of the crushing Jovian gravitation.

“Otho and I must hurry,” he said tensely. “We must be at Orris’ hut when the Space Emperor comes there.”

“Can’t I come too, master?” asked big Grag.

“You could never pass as a man,” jeered Otho. “One glimpse of your metal face would give us away.”

Grag turned angrily toward the android, but Captain Future intervened hastily between the two.

“You must stay with Simon and guard the
Comet,
Grag,” he said. “We’ll be back soon if we catch the one we’re after.”

“Be careful, lad,” muttered the Brain. “This Space Emperor is the most dangerous antagonist we’ve ever encountered.”

Curt smiled pleasantly.

“A foeman worthy of our steel, eh? Don’t worry, Simon. I’m not underestimating him!”

CURT and Otho emerged from the
Comet
and started toward the bright-lit Street of Space Sailors that ran eastward from the spaceport. The Jovian night lay soft and heavy upon them, the warm air laden with fetid scents of strange vegetation. The three bright moons cast queer multiple shifting shadows around them.

Curt knew the Street of Space Sailors well. It was usually roaring with lusty life, for in its dubious taverns gathered Earthmen who knew swampy Venus and desert Mars and icy Pluto, men who would be here for only a few days and who made the most of them before they went back.

But now the street was less crowded than usual. A pall seemed to lie over the motley interplanetary throng, and fewer rocket-cars came and went than was usual. There were many space-bronzed Earthmen drinking in the disreputable taverns, but they drank in unnatural silence. It was evident to Curt’s keen eyes that the dark shadow of the plague lay over this city.

In the street were many Jovians, the planetary natives of this world. They were manlike, man-size creatures, but their green-skinned bodies were squatter than the human, their heads were small, round and hairless, with large, circular dark eyes, and their arms and legs ended in queer flippers instead of hands or feet.

Their clothing was a scanty black leather harness. They seemed to watch the passing Earthmen with unfriendliness and distrust.

“The Jovians don’t seem to care much for Earthmen any more,” muttered Otho.

Curt’s gray eyes narrowed slightly.

“According to what Orris told us, it’s the Space Emperor who’s stirred them into unrest.”

“Look out!” yelled a wild voice suddenly from somewhere in the throng ahead. “He’s got it!”

“Atavism — get away!” roared other voices.

Curt saw men darting away from an Earthman who had been wandering dazedly along the street, but who now was beating his breast, frothing at the lips, his glazed eyes glaring bestially around.

All shrank from the man thus suddenly stricken by the dread evolutionary blight. For a moment there was a frozen silence except for his growling cries. Then whistles shrilled and a rocket-car dashed along the street.

Haggard-faced hospital orderlies grabbed the struggling man who had just been stricken, pulled him into the car, and dashed away.

The tense silence lasted for an eternal moment, in which men stared sickly at each other. Then, as though desirous to get away from the spot, the motley throng moved rapidly on.

“So
that
is what it is like to be stricken by the horror!” hissed Otho.

A dangerous light flared in Captain Future’s gray eyes, and his big form tensed.

“I think I’m going to enjoy meeting the black devil who’s causing this,” he said between his teeth.

They moved on along the Street of Space Sailors, out of the lighted section of the dark end of the avenue. Before them lay the black, vague fields beyond the city. Curt’s keen eyes glimpsed a dark little metalloy cabin, that stood a little beyond the street end, beside a clump of towering, moonlit tree-ferns.

“Orris’ cabin,” he muttered, his hand dropping to his proton-pistol. “Come on, Otho.”

HE LISTENED at the door of the cabin, then pushed it open and entered the dark interior. The place was deserted.

Curt pulled the cord that uncovered the glowing uranite bulb in the ceiling. The illumination revealed a slovenly metal room, with a bunk in one corner, some zipper-suits and a couple of Jovian leather harnesses on hooks. The wide windows were screened against those pests of the planet, sucker-flies and brain-ticks.

Captain Future slipped his pistol inside his jacket. Then he stretched himself out on the bunk in the corner.

“The Space Emperor should be here soon,” he told the android crisply. “When he comes, tell him you captured me, drugged me, and brought me here. Maneuver to get between him and the door.”

Otho nodded his disguised head in understanding. There was a fierce, throbbing glitter in his eyes.

“No more talk now,” Curt ordered tensely.

Lying sprawled stiffly on the bunk in perfect simulation of a drugged stupor, Curt watched through half-closed eyes. The android walked nervously back and forth, as though awaiting someone.

Eager suspense, gripped Curt’s mind. He, Captain Future, who had met and conquered so many evil ones in the past, was about to confront the most formidable adversary he had yet faced. His reckless soul almost exulted in the prospect.

Curt heard a sudden, low exclamation of astonishment from Otho. He opened his eyelids a trifle more, and received a surprise that was like an electric shock.

A black, weird figure now stood inside the cabin with them. The door had not opened, for Curt had been watching it. It was as though this dark visitant had come silently through the walls
.

The Space Emperor! The mysterious figure who was turning Jupiter into a planetary hell! Curt knew that he looked upon his unknown antagonist.

The Space Emperor wore a grotesque, puffy black suit and helmet of mineraline, flexible material. The helmet had small eye-holes, but the eyes inside could not be seen. His real appearance was perfectly concealed by that puffy suit. It was impossible even to tell whether he was an Earthman or Jovian.

“You — you’re here!” stammered Otho, in Orris’ voice, putting into it and into the expression of his disguised face the same dread that Orris had shown in speaking of the Space Emperor.

Out of that helmet came a voice that rasped the fibers of Captain Future’s spine. It was not a human-sounding voice. It was more like the deep voice of a Jovian, yet instead of being soft and slurred it was heavy, strong, vibrating with power.

“I’m here, yes,” the Space Emperor said. “Did you and Skeel succeed in killing Captain Future?”

“We did better than that,” Otho said, with assumed pride. “We captured him and I brought him here — see!”

Otho pointed toward the bunk upon which Curt Newton lay sprawled in apparent coma.

“Skeel was killed in the fight,” Otho went on, “but I got Captain Future, all right. I gave him a shot of
somnal
to keep him quiet, and brought him here for you.”

“You fool!” came the deep voice of the Space Emperor, shaking now with rage. “Why did you not kill him out there at once? Don’t you know that this Captain Future is deadly dangerous as long as he is alive?”

The Space Emperor advanced a little in his rage, his dark figure not walking but moving with a queer, smooth glide across the metal floor.

Otho, pretending to shrink aside in fear, edged slowly to get between the dark visitant and the door.

“I thought you’d want him alive,” Otho was apologizing abjectly. “I can kill him now, if you want me to.”

“Kill him, at once!” throbbed the Space Emperor’s voice. “This man has spoiled great plans before. He is not going to spoil mine!”

CURT NEWTON had been gathering his muscles for action. Now, as the last word vibrated, the red-haired adventurer launched himself upward in a flying spring at his enemy! Straight at that dark, erect figure plunged Curt. He expected to knock the mysterious plotter to the floor, overcome him. But Curt received the greatest surprise of his life.

For Captain Future felt himself plunge
through
the Space Emperor as though the latter did not exist! Just as though the Space Emperor were but an immaterial phantom, Curt hurtled through his solid-seeming body and crashed against the wall with stunning force.

“So!” cried the criminal’s deep voice. “One of Captain Future’s traps!”

Otho had charged in almost the same instant as Curt. And the disguised android also had plunged
through
the dark figure.

Curt had his proton-pistol out, as the black form started to glide swiftly across the room. Astounded, dazed as he was by the incredible thing that had happened, Captain Future did not lose his presence of mind for a moment.

He pulled trigger, and a pale thin beam lanced from the slender pistol toward the gliding dark figure.

Curt’s proton-pistol was more deadly than any of the atomic flare-guns used by other men. It could be set either to stun or kill, and it was set to kill now. But its concentrated jet of protons merely drove through the Space Emperor without harming him in the least.

“At last you meet someone with powers greater than your own, Captain Future!” the hidden voice taunted.

The dark figure glided away. The solid-seeming shape passed through the solid metal wall. Then it was gone.

Otho stood still, numbed by the incredible sight. But Captain Future leaped toward the door, galvanized into action.

He burst out into the moon-shot darkness and swept the obscurity with his eyes. There was no sign of the Space Emperor. He had disappeared completely.

“He got away, that devil!” Curt cried, anger and self-reproach flaring in his voice.

“He wasn’t real at all!” Otho exclaimed dazedly. “He was only a shadow, a phantom!”

“A phantom couldn’t talk and be heard!” Curt snapped. “He’s as real as you or I.”

“But he came and went through the wall —” the android muttered bewilderedly.

Captain Future’s tanned face frowned in thought, as he tried to comprehend his enemy’s secret.

“I believe,” he announced, “that the Space Emperor is using some secret of vibration to make himself effectively immaterial whenever he wishes.”

Otho stared.

“Immaterial?”

Curt nodded his red head slowly.

“It’s always been considered theoretically possible that if the frequency of atomic vibration of an object or man were stepped up higher than the frequency of ordinary matter, that object or man could pass
through
ordinary matter, just as two electric signals of different frequency can pass through the same wire at the same time.”

“But if that were the case, he would sink right down through the ground to the center of gravity of the planet!” Otho objected.

IMPATIENTLY, Captain Future shook his head.

“Not if he set his gravity equalizer at zero. And he could use reactive force-push of some kind to achieve that gliding lateral motion. Of course, he couldn’t breathe ordinary air, but inside that suit would be an air-supply whose atomic frequency would be changed along with his body.”