Read Online Captain Future 04 - The Triumph of Captain Future (Fall 1940) by Edmond Hamilton - Free Book Online
Authors: Edmond Hamilton
Tags: Sci Fi & Fantasy
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him. It was as he had hoped. They thought him a castaway from some wrecked ship.
The boat came up to him, and he was dragged in through the air-lock. The space-sailors in the boat stared at him amazedly.
“Why, this isn’t a man!” one exclaimed. “Looks like an ancient automaton. And there’s a moon-pup hanging onto it.
Grag quickly decided to play dumb. If he showed life, they might be afraid to take him into the ship.
Of course he might tell them he was one of Captain Future’s aides. But would they believe him? People were usually afraid of him, Grag knew. He’d better be an automaton until he got to Mars.
So Grag did not move or speak as the space boat took him back to the liner.
Eek seemed bewildered by his immobility.
The sailors hauled Grag’s great form into the promenade deck of the space liner. Curious interplanetary passengers gathered around, and the captain of the vessel came over to him.
“Obviously an old-type robot,” the captain said dubiously. “It probably was designed merely to walk.”
At the word “walk,” Grag rose stiffly to his feet and took a few ponderous strides. He gave a good imitation of an antique automaton, staring straight ahead and moving jerkily.
“Say, it can walk!” a passenger exclaimed. “The word ‘walk starts him going by selective vibration.”
“Try the word ‘talk on him,” another suggested.
At that word, Grag opened his mouth jerkily.
“I talk,” he boomed, still staring straight ahead.
“Why, that antique dummy should be valuable,” a Venusian woman enthused. “It must have been lost from an old ship.”
Grag felt burned up at being called a dummy. It hurt the robot’s pride. But he determined to play the part till they reached Mars.
A stout Earthman clad in a flashy red zipper-suit stepped forward and spoke importantly to the commander of the liner.
“I’m Hurl Adams, showman extraordinary, taking a freakshow to Mars for exhibition. How about selling me this automaton for my show? As space flotsam, he’s yours.”
The captain shrugged. “If you want him, you can have him for nothing, Mr. Adams. The museum’s full of old junk like this.”
“Thanks!” the stout showman exclaimed. He inspected Grag appraisingly. “He’ll be the hit of my show. Walk, old boy!”
Grag again took a few stiff, clumsy steps. And when the showman ordered “Talk!” he again boomed.
“I talk.”
The stout showman called his assistants.
“Put him down in the hold with the other freaks till we reach Mars. Better put some strong chains around him, so a chance word won’t start him going at the wrong time. He looks strong enough to break right through the ship.”
The assistants brought heavy chains of unbreakable inertrite, and bound them around Grag. The big robot was angry at this, but he submitted without moving. He’d escape somehow when they reached Mars.
They loaded him on a wheeled truck and took him down into a section of the hold, in which Hurl Adams freaks were housed. They unloaded Grag and stood him up against the wall. He made no sound or movement. Eek, still clinging to his shoulder, was badly bewildered.
“What about the moon-pup, Mr. Adams?” a man asked.
“We’ll take him along for the show, too,” the showman replied. “They’re pretty rare little beasts, you know.”
THE huge robot was left standing there. Without moving, he looked at the freaks that were caged or quartered around him.
There was a three-leaded hydra from the Jupiter seas, crawling ominously in a transparent tank. In a strong cage nearby were several of the glistening, Creeping Crystals of the moon Callisto.
A simple looking Mercurian, who had happened to be born with four eyes instead of two, lay sleeping on a cot. A Venusian swamp rat and a Plutonian ice tiger in a refrigerated cage snarled at each other with mutual dislike. There were other oddities of planetary animal life, curious freaks that nature had experimented with on far
The boat came up to him, and he was dragged in through the air-lock. The space-sailors in the boat stared at him amazedly.
“Why, this isn’t a man!” one exclaimed. “Looks like an ancient automaton. And there’s a moon-pup hanging onto it.
Grag quickly decided to play dumb. If he showed life, they might be afraid to take him into the ship.
Of course he might tell them he was one of Captain Future’s aides. But would they believe him? People were usually afraid of him, Grag knew. He’d better be an automaton until he got to Mars.
So Grag did not move or speak as the space boat took him back to the liner.
Eek seemed bewildered by his immobility.
The sailors hauled Grag’s great form into the promenade deck of the space liner. Curious interplanetary passengers gathered around, and the captain of the vessel came over to him.
“Obviously an old-type robot,” the captain said dubiously. “It probably was designed merely to walk.”
At the word “walk,” Grag rose stiffly to his feet and took a few ponderous strides. He gave a good imitation of an antique automaton, staring straight ahead and moving jerkily.
“Say, it can walk!” a passenger exclaimed. “The word ‘walk starts him going by selective vibration.”
“Try the word ‘talk on him,” another suggested.
At that word, Grag opened his mouth jerkily.
“I talk,” he boomed, still staring straight ahead.
“Why, that antique dummy should be valuable,” a Venusian woman enthused. “It must have been lost from an old ship.”
Grag felt burned up at being called a dummy. It hurt the robot’s pride. But he determined to play the part till they reached Mars.
A stout Earthman clad in a flashy red zipper-suit stepped forward and spoke importantly to the commander of the liner.
“I’m Hurl Adams, showman extraordinary, taking a freakshow to Mars for exhibition. How about selling me this automaton for my show? As space flotsam, he’s yours.”
The captain shrugged. “If you want him, you can have him for nothing, Mr. Adams. The museum’s full of old junk like this.”
“Thanks!” the stout showman exclaimed. He inspected Grag appraisingly. “He’ll be the hit of my show. Walk, old boy!”
Grag again took a few stiff, clumsy steps. And when the showman ordered “Talk!” he again boomed.
“I talk.”
The stout showman called his assistants.
“Put him down in the hold with the other freaks till we reach Mars. Better put some strong chains around him, so a chance word won’t start him going at the wrong time. He looks strong enough to break right through the ship.”
The assistants brought heavy chains of unbreakable inertrite, and bound them around Grag. The big robot was angry at this, but he submitted without moving. He’d escape somehow when they reached Mars.
They loaded him on a wheeled truck and took him down into a section of the hold, in which Hurl Adams freaks were housed. They unloaded Grag and stood him up against the wall. He made no sound or movement. Eek, still clinging to his shoulder, was badly bewildered.
“What about the moon-pup, Mr. Adams?” a man asked.
“We’ll take him along for the show, too,” the showman replied. “They’re pretty rare little beasts, you know.”
THE huge robot was left standing there. Without moving, he looked at the freaks that were caged or quartered around him.
There was a three-leaded hydra from the Jupiter seas, crawling ominously in a transparent tank. In a strong cage nearby were several of the glistening, Creeping Crystals of the moon Callisto.
A simple looking Mercurian, who had happened to be born with four eyes instead of two, lay sleeping on a cot. A Venusian swamp rat and a Plutonian ice tiger in a refrigerated cage snarled at each other with mutual dislike. There were other oddities of planetary animal life, curious freaks that nature had experimented with on far
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