Captain Future 23 - The Harpers of Titan (September 1950) by Edmond Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page B

Don’t lie to me, you little space-rat!”
    Curt’s wrist hurt and his surprise and amazement at being so received by the fellow-men he had been eager to see made him react swiftly.
     
    JU-JITSU
    He ducked and spun around with a lightning movement and thrust of shoulder muscles that Otho had taught. The super-ju-jitsu trick sent the giant flying back to sprawl on his back ten feet away.
    Curt could have escaped, then. But he was still too startled and bewildered by the unfriendly reception to think of himself. He was grabbed by the other men before he could retreat.
    The giant leader was livid with fury. “You cocky brat, I’ll —”
    “Boss, wait!” cried one of his men excitedly. “This boy said his name was Newton, didn’t he? And he looks just like that famous scientist who disappeared fifteen years ago in space. His name was Newton, too.”
    “What of it?” roared the furious giant.
    “The Newton who disappeared had scientific secrets supposed to be worth billions!” cried the other. “If this brat is his son —”
    “By heaven!” swore the giant, his eyes lighting with avarice. He demanded of Curt, “Where’s this place in Tycho crater you live at?”
    Curt had had time to get over his amazement. The boy had never seen men before. But he knew instinctively that these men were evil.
     
    CURT SENSES PERIL
    He sensed peril to the Brain and Grag and Otho, if he told these men where the Moon-laboratory lay. He decided swiftly to tell nothing. With calm gray eyes, he stared at his captors through his helmet.
    “Won’t tell, eh?” said the big leader. His lips twisted in an ugly smile. “I’ve made tougher men than a stripling kid talk. Hold him tight, men — this won’t take long.”
    He reached and turned the tap on the oxygen-tank of Curt’s space-suit, shutting off the flow of air into the boy’s suit.
    “When you want bad enough to breathe, you can start talking,” he told the boy complacently.
    Curt made no answer. The boy, held by a dozen hands, knew an attempt to break free was useless.
    He remained silent, looking with level eyes into the brutal, helmeted faces of his captors.
    His head began to spin dizzily as the air inside his helmet became hot and foul. There was a roaring in his ears.
    Yet Curt Newton’s purpling face did not change a line in its expression, his glazing eyes still stared levelly at his captors. Even though his body was sagging limp, the boy’s stony face moved no muscle.
    The men holding him stirred uneasily, their brutal pleasure in cruelty changing gradually to an uneasy wonder.
    “The kid ain’t human!” muttered one of them. “He’s dyin’ — and he keeps looking at us the same way —”
     
    A SOUL OF STEEL
    Curt Newton felt that he was, indeed, dying. He could only dimly see, the roar in his ears was deafening. But he would not show weakness or cry out, even now. The rigid training of the Brain and the robot and the android had put steel into his soul.
    Then dimly, Curt heard a startled cry from one of his captors. He felt himself released, saw the men clawing out their atom-pistols and whirling frantically to meet two charging figures.
    The two were Grag and Otho. The android in his space-suit and the robot, who needed none, held heavy metal bars raised aloft and their eyes were blazing with deadly purpose.
    The bars crashed down on one glassite helmet after another as Otho moved with incredible speed and Grag stalked like an avenging metal giant.
    Men, suddenly suffocated by the shattering of their helmets, fell clawing at their throats.
    Curt Newton saw this much — and then for the first time in his life lost consciousness. When he came to, he found himself supported in Grag’s mighty metal arms. The robot had turned on his oxygen supply.
    Beyond him and Otho, the boy saw the still figures of the men.
    “They are dead,” came Otho’s fierce, hissing voice. “It is too bad there were no more of them to kill.”
    “You have been very bad,”