Captain Future 14 - Worlds to Come (Spring 1943) by William Morrison

Author:William Morrison [Morrison, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mysteries & Thrillers
Published: 2012-12-06T06:00:00+00:00

THE thunder was finally rumbling away. Old Kuru, followed closely by Lherr and the rest of the tribe, was approaching with a troubled expression on his face.

“Captain Future,” he said, “your magic is not good!”

“My magic?”

“The gods have struck too close to the tribe. It is a warning. They demand a victim.”

“That has nothing to do with my magic.”

“But it has —” interrupted Lherr angrily. “It is your magic that has changed Varra’s spirit, and called the thunder of the gods to the old tree. It is evil, and must end.”

“My magic,” returned Curt in exasperation, “is just beginning. Go, Lherr, and leave us in peace, and let us have no more talk of a victim to be sacrificed to the gods. Else your spirit will soon be traveling like Varra’s among the stars.”

Lherr’s eyes gleamed wildly, “Let us kill this magician before he bewitches us all!” he cried, and rushed at Curt, his heavy club swinging.

Curt stepped in quickly and caught the handle of the club before it could begin its descent. For a fraction of a second, Lherr struggled frantically to release it from his grip. Then Curt pulled the primitive weapon away from him, and Lherr, howling with fear, fled. Kuru and the others of the tribune had made no move to interfere. Now they moved away slowly.

“I’m afraid of him,” said Joan uneasily. “Curt, he has to be watched!”

“He won’t be able to hurt us,” promised Curt. “The first thing I’m going to do is make myself a real weapon. And I start now, without waiting for the morning.”

With Joan close behind him, Curt approached the still burning tree. Using a small metal ladle he had prepared in advance, he removed some of the disintegrating copper from the ground where it had fallen.

“We’ll let the rest of it remain where it is, and disintegrate until the reaction is completed,” he told Joan. “Meanwhile, I need that iron ore mixture.”

With Joan to help him, he worked steadily until dawn. By that time he had freed the iron from its ore, and fashioned it into an uneven tube, about two feet long, with a trigger at one end, and a suitable atomic disintegration mixture within.

He pointed the open end at the ground, pulled the trigger. A yawning hole appeared where the charge had struck.

“More like an atom-cannon than an atom-pistol,” observed Curt. “But it’s effective, and will impress people like Lherr. Now to start getting ready for building that ship.”

But the gigantic task of building a space ship on this primitive world was destined never to be completed. One night, about a week after the fateful lightning storm, Curt heard the noise of rockets, and looked up to see a blazing trail of sparks in the heavens.

“A space ship!” cried Joan.

“Yes,” agreed Curt. “It was headed toward the other side of the lake, so it isn’t likely to be too close. Probably the Sverds, as they’ve been here before.”

“You won’t be able to finish your own ship?”

“Not for a long while.

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