Captain Future 02 - Calling Captain Future (Spring 1940) Read Online Free PDF

are stopped soon, he’ll be the System dictator. Things are worse than I thought — we’ve little time!”
     
    HE AND the android pressed on across the city and soon reached the Syrtis Observatory. It lay a little outside the city in the desert, its huge dome bulking black and silent.
    In the shadowy interior, a bald, red, middle-aged Martian sat at a lighted desk beneath the great telescope, calculating. He sprang up with a cry as he glimpsed Curt and the unhuman android.
    “What — who —” he stammered. Then as Curt held out his left hand, he glimpsed the big ring. “Captain Future!”
    “You’re Gatola, director here?” Curt said sharply. The Martian, staring awedly at him nodded.
    “A party of the Legion of Doom is coming to kidnap you. They’ll be here any moment.”
    Gatola’s eyes dilated. “Gods of Mars, if they —”
    “But you’re not going to be here when they come, Gatola,” Curt continued. “Otho, my comrade, will take your place.”
    He turned to the android.
    “All right, Otho — make up as this Martian. And hurry it!”
    “Do I ever lag?” hissed Otho indignantly. He was clawing his disguise-equipment from a square pouch at his belt.
    From a small lead flask, Otho sprayed a colorless chemical oil onto his head and body.
    Otho’s rubbery white synthetic flesh was wholly unlike ordinary flesh. It could be softened by chemical agents, and when soft, it was as plastic and easy to mold as clay. That fact made the android the greatest master of disguise in the System’s history.
    In a few minutes Otho’s queer flesh became soft and putty-like — all except his hands, which he had been careful to leave unchanged. Now he began to mold the flesh of his own body into new outlines, like a sculptor working on himself!
    His legs he molded into thin, stilt-like ones similar to the Martian’s. He expanded his chest. And finally he molded his face into an exact replica, feature for feature, of Gatola’s face.
    Then his flesh hardened, grew rubbery and firm again, retaining the new outlines. Rapidly Otho stained himself with red dye from his make-up pouch. And Otho finally stood, an exact replica of Gatola, as though an uncanny twin.
    “All done, Chief,” Otho reported to Captain Future, speaking in an accurate reproduction of the Martian’s voice.
    Gatola’s eyes were protruding in amazement. But Curt gave the Martian no time to voice his bewilderment.
    “Leave here at once, Gatola,” Captain Future ordered. “Otho will take your place here for tonight. Understand?”
    “I don’t understand,” said the Martian dazedly, “but I’ll go. I’ll go home, and stay there.”
    When the Martian had gone, Curt gave Otho his final instructions.
    “If the Legion of Doom ship comes, it will land outside. Part of its crew at least will come in here to seize Gatola — you. I want you to argue with them, resist them, do anything short of getting yourself killed, to delay them in here. That will give me a chance to get into their ship and get Joan and Kansu Kane out.”
    “It sounds dangerous for you!” Otho protested. “Why couldn’t we have had a squad of the Planet Police here to seize these mysterious devils when they come?”
    “The Legion would resist and Joan would probably be killed,” Curt retorted. “And I’m counting on getting a lead to Doctor Zarro from what she’s learned.”
    “And you are sort of anxious about this Police girl anyway, aren’t you?” Otho asked slyly.
    Curt gave him a cuff that sent the laughing android spinning.
    “This isn’t any time for your damned nonsense. Get over to that telescope and try to act as though you knew something about astronomy.”
    “What do you mean, ‘act’?” Otho hissed indignantly. “I know more about other worlds than the old men who sit in these places and peer at them. I don’t study astronomy — I live it!”
    Chuckling, Curt hastened back out of the shadowy observatory. He crouched down in the shadow, loosening his