Flash Gordon 3 - The Space Circus Read online

  THE SPACE CIRCUS

  THE SPACE CIRCUS is the third in the series of fabulous novels inspired by the world famous comic strip FLASH GORDON, read daily and Sunday by millions of fans throughout the world.

  Kidnapped, auctioned, forced to perform as a trapeze artist in a circus of slaves, Flash foils his evil blue captors and, with the help of Dr. Zarkov and Dale, escapes the planet Mesmo, and then dispatches an expedition to end forever the tyranny of that planet.

  OTHER FLASH GORDON ADVENTURES

  from Avon Books

  #1 The Lion Men of Mongo

  #2 The Plague of Sound

  #3 The Space Circus

  #4 The Time Trap of Ming XIII

  #5 The Witch Queen of Mongo

  #6 The War of the Cybernauts

  THE SPACE CIRCUS is an original publication of Avon Books. This work has never before appeared in book form.

  AVON BOOKS

  A division of The Hearst Corporation

  959 Eighth Avenue

  New York, New York 10019

  Copyright © 1974 by King Features Syndicate, Inc.

  Co-published by Avon Books and King Features Syndicate, Inc.

  ISBN: 0-380-00064-4

  Cover art by George Wilson

  All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Avon Books.

  First Avon Printing, July 1974

  Printed in U.S.A

  THE SPACE

  CIRCUS

  CHAPTER 1

  “There’s no such thing as an unidentified flying object,” boomed big, bearded Dr. Zarkov as he circled the large living room.

  “You figure,” asked Flash Gordon, “that all the mysteries of the universe can be solved?” He was sitting on a wide pseudo-leather couch, his back to the large window which showed the night desert outside.

  “If everyone were as bright as Dr. Zarkov . . .” said Dale Arden. She was a slim dark-haired girl, seated in a crimson wing chair.

  “That’s exactly the point I was leading up to,” said the doctor in his resounding voice. “In this day and age, when we can hop, skip, and jump from planet to planet, from planet system to planet system, there’s no need to be puzzled by some nitwit spacecraft.”

  “Maybe they’re not spacecraft, Doc,” said Flash. He was a wide-shouldered blond man, nearly thirty.

  Zarkov strode to the window and jabbed a finger at the darkness outside. “A few hours in my lab over there,” he said, “and I’d have the whole problem cleared up.”

  “Maybe that’s what Agent Cox of EII wants to talk to me about,” suggested Flash.

  “If Earth Interstellar Intelligence wanted Zarkov, they’d ask Zarkov directly,” Dr. Zarkov bellowed.

  “You probably awe them so much they’re afraid to approach you directly,” said Dale. “Or maybe they don’t know you’re back on Earth. You’re something of a gadfly.”

  “You mean gadabout,” corrected Zarkov. “A gadfly is someone who makes a nuisance of himself.” He snorted and commenced pacing around the room again.

  The three of them had returned to Earth from the distant planet of Pandor a little over two weeks earlier. They were all staying at the home and laboratory which Zarkov maintained in the Southwest desert country of the United States. Earlier that day, Agent Cox of the Interstellar Intelligence organization had phoned Flash and asked him to meet him late that evening in a town some seventy miles to the south.

  “Cox won’t mind,” said Flash, “if you come along with me, Doc.”

  Zarkov snorted once more. “I don’t crash parties I’m not invited to.” He stopped near the squat square robot bar in the corner of the living room.

  “Drink, sir?” asked the voice box of the servomechanism.

  “Nitwit,” muttered Zarkov.

  The bar hummed for several seconds. “Don’t seem to have that one in the old memory banks, sir. How do you mix it?”

  “I don’t know why I allow these gadgets in here,” said Zarkov as he strode away. “I suppose it’s because I’m a thoughtful host. Lots of good that does. EII doesn’t even invite me to their get-togethers any more.”

  “This isn’t a party,” said Flash, grinning. “Cox, as I understand it, just wants to talk over the odd craft which have been sighted in this area over the past few days.”

  “After all,” Dale said to Zarkov, “I’m not going along either.”

  The doctor tangled his large fingers in his beard, tugging at it. “Considering all the tax money that gets poured into our security system, they should be able to detect and identify a few space crates.”

  “You know how the game’s played, Doc,” said Flash. “Every time we come up with a new detecting device, somebody else comes up with a new way to outwit it.”

  “Nobody outwits Zarkov,” said Zarkov. “I ought to spend more time here on Earth. The United Nations and the League of Solar Planets don’t seem to know which end is up half the time.”

  “Speaking of time”—Flash glanced up at the large round multifaced clock floating up near the room’s ceiling—“I’d better take off for my meeting.”

  “If you’re going to fly,” said Dale, “you’ve still got some time.”

  “A pleasant clear spring night,” said Flash as he rose, “I think I’d rather drive over there in a landcar.”

  The girl stood up, too, moving to him. “I’ll wait up.”

  Flash put his hands on her slim shoulders. He kissed her once. “If you get tired of waiting, at least keep a light burning in the window.”

  Neither of them had any premonition of what was going to happen.

  CHAPTER 2

  The night was chill and black, incredibly clear. Flash felt as though he had the entire desert to himself as his sleek black landcar sped along the wide road. There were no other cars on this stretch of highway, nor houses anywhere around. Stars filled the sharp black sky with specks of bright white light. There was not even one sky cruiser anywhere above. Low, rocky hills trimmed the sky. Beside the straight black road stood tall cacti, shaggy joshua trees. The bent-elbow branches of the trees bobbed in the chill night wind.

  Funny, thought Flash, I’m used to being on my own in all kinds of isolated and desolate spots, but tonight I sort of wish I had some company on this little jaunt to meet Agent Cox.

  After a few minutes more of driving, Flash thought, maybe a bit of noise from the outside world will cheer me up. He reached out and punched the radio button.

  Nothing happened.

  Flash gave the button another push with his fingertip.

  Nothing happened.

  Wait till I tell Zarkov about this, he mused. Letting the radio in his car break down.

  Up above a low stone mesa, a flat circular spacecraft suddenly appeared. It glowed in the darkness—an intensely bright pale-yellow light flooded the area around Flash’s landcar.

  Squinting, Flash put one hand up to shield his eyes. “Can’t see the road at all,” he said aloud. He slowed down, knowing the road was still straight and even ahead.

  An odd humming began . . . it was outside, inside. The frame of the car vibrated with it.

  “I wonder if that’s one of Cox’s mysterious ships up there,” Flash muttered. He slowed the landcar even more, creeping along. “Might as well stop.”

  Through the yellow glare above him, he noticed that a panel had slid open in the underside of the strange ship and an enormous metal-jawed claw was being lowered toward his car. “Don’t like the looks of that,” said Flash. “Makes me feel like the prize in somebody’s penny arcade.” He checked out the roadway and the surrounding countryside as best he could in the blinding gl
are. Then he swung the wheel, tromping down on the accelerator.

  The landcar shot off the road and bumped over gritty ground.

  The circular spacecraft stayed with him, about thirty feet above. The glaring lights continued to burn down.

  This isn’t going to work for long, Flash thought as he zigzagged the car across the desert. I’m liable to smash into one of these joshua trees before those boys up there get tired of fishing for me.

  His engine suddenly stopped; the car rolled on, moving slower and slower.

  The jaws of the hovering claw closed on his car with a rasping thunk. Then Flash and the car were jerked off the ground. Flash pulled on the door release, throwing his shoulder against it, but nothing happened.

  The claw pulled his landcar up inside the ship, then dropped it down with a quivering thud on the metallic floor of a large empty room.

  Flash hit the door again. This time it opened. He jumped free of the car and made a dive for the opening through which he’d been pulled. The panel shut an instant before he reached it.

  There was no way to pry the panel open. And now, Flash realized, the ship was rapidly rising. Even if he managed to get out through the opening, he might be thousands of feet up in the air by then.

  He stood up, hands on hips, and surveyed the metal room in which he was now a prisoner. It was large and rectangular, constructed of metal panels about two feet square. Flash went to the nearest wall and rubbed his fingertips over the surface. Haven’t seen an alloy like this before, he thought. I wonder what planet system these fellows hail from.

  He made a slow circuit of his prison. There was nothing that looked like a door, or a possible way out, in any of the walls. Flash looked up at the ceiling. “Might be another sliding panel up there,” he whispered.

  He walked over to his captured car, then looked upward again. Even standing on top of it, he wouldn’t be able to reach the metal ceiling. Anyway, that wouldn’t get me out of here, he speculated. Only closer to the lads who grabbed me.

  He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Okay, I’m here,” he called out. “Now what?”

  Only silence answered his question.

  Since he’d returned to Earth and to America, where he felt relatively safe, Flash had ceased to carry any weapons. There was nothing in the car either, except a tool kit.

  Flash returned casually to the vicinity of the landcar. He reached out for the trunk compartment.

  Something sizzled up above. The entire rear of the vehicle glowed a flickering blue.

  Flash withdrew his hand and moved back from the car.

  It continued to glow for another five minutes.

  “Guess they don’t want me to touch the car.”

  Several more silent minutes passed.

  Then a small square in the high ceiling slid aside. Something was shoved through the opening. It fell, landing with a plop at Flash’s feet.

  He looked down at it. “What in blazes does that mean?”

  Someone had thrown down a large and bloody chunk of raw meat.

  CHAPTER 3

  With an annoyed grunt, Dr. Zarkov sat up on his circular aircushion bed. “I heard you,” he growled in the direction of the pixphone screen on the opposite wall of his bedroom.

  “Phone call,” repeated a soft voice from a speaker grid immediately below the picture screen of the wall phone. “Phone call.”

  Zarkov leaped out of bed, landed on both feet at once, and strode to the phone. He always slept in a suit of all-season underwear. He poked at the answer button. “What?” he bellowed into the talkpiece.

  An anxious face appeared on the screen. The lean blond young man asked, “Is that you, Dr. Zarkov?”

  “This is Zarkov.” Being in his underwear, the bearded scientist hadn’t flicked on the picture-taking device on his end of the pixphone. “What time is it anyway, Agent Cox?”

  “Eleven-forty-six,” said the phone’s voice box.

  “I didn’t ask you,” boomed Zarkov.

  “Nearly midnight,” said the Interstellar Intelligence agent. “Which is why I took the liberty of calling you, Doctor. Flash Gordon was supposed to come over to see me tonight.”

  “What do you mean supposed to? He left here a good three hours ago.”

  “Well,” answered Cox, “he hasn’t turned up yet.”

  Zarkov tugged at his tangled beard with both hands. “I don’t know why not.”

  “I was hoping you would,” said Cox. “How was he planning to get over here? I thought perhaps he might have had some kind of accident.”

  “He used the landcar,” said Dr. Zarkov, “and I just gave that baby a tuneup myself the other day. It’s not likely to have an accident, but that’s beside the point, Cox. The car’s a black one-dome, last year’s model, license number Z101. You better check with the Highway Authority, see if they have anything to report. Then call me back.”

  “Okay, Doctor.” The screen went black.

  Zarkov grabbed his crimson bathrobe from the floor. Shrugging into it, he headed for the door. I’d better wake up Dale and let her know, he decided.

  Dale, still dressed as she had been when Flash left, was standing in the hallway immediately outside the doctor’s door. “Was it something about Flash? I’ve had a strange feeling all evening.”

  “He hasn’t shown up for his meeting with Cox.” Zarkov put a hand on her arm. “Don’t start worrying yet, Dale. That was Cox on the phone. I put him to checking with the Highway Authority.”

  “You think Flash has been hurt in an accident?”

  “A car Zarkov’s worked on doesn’t have accidents,” he assured her. “But it is possible something went wrong with the road. That might explain Flash’s being delayed.”

  “But it’s been hours.”

  “We’ll wait and see what Cox can find out,” said Zarkov. “If he hasn’t got anything to report, then I’ll go out with the aircruiser and check over Flash’s route.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Zarkov nodded as the phone in the room announced, “Phone call, phone call.” With the dark-haired girl at his heels, he went back in and answered it.

  “No accident of any consequence on any road leading from your place to us,” said Agent Cox on the screen. “No report of anyone seeing the landcar Flash was driving, either on the road or here in town.”

  “So where is he then?”

  The EII agent hesitated, then said, “There are a couple of odd things. I don’t know if they tie in or not.”

  “Tell me and let me decide.”

  “Well, Doctor, we’ve had several reports of people saying they’ve seen unidentified flying objects over your way tonight.”

  “Hallucinations,” said Zarkov. “Some nitwit’s hallucination isn’t going to help us locate Flash.”

  “There’s one more thing,” continued Agent Cox. “A Highway Authority land patrol has reported noticing a place about forty miles south of you where a car had gone off the highway.”

  “Was it Flash’s car?”

  “There’s no sign of any car.”

  “Where do the tracks end then?”

  “In the middle of nowhere, apparently. Then suddenly there are no more tracks, as though the landcar vanished into thin air. That’s according to the Highway Authority report I’ve seen, anyway.”

  “More fantasizing,” boomed Zarkov.

  “Want me to get you more details on those tracks?”

  “I’ll take a look at them myself,” said Zarkov. “Give me the exact location.”

  Cox did, wished the doctor good luck, and signed off.

  In a quiet voice, Dale said, “He’s been taken.”

  “We don’t know what’s happened to Flash,” said Dr. Zarkov. “Don’t become more upset until I do some looking around.”

  “We’re not going to find Flash,” said Dale in that same faraway voice.

  She was right.

  CHAPTER 4

  After a while Flash tried shouting again. “Hey, where are we
going? Somebody come and talk to me!”

  They threw him down another chunk of raw meat.

  Flash kicked it aside.

  He knew the ship had long since left the gravitational pull of Earth. And he was fairly certain that a few minutes ago they had made some kind of jump, a jump through time and space, which meant they were probably heading for a planet far beyond the Earth’s universe.

  Well, Flash thought, I’ve visited quite a few planets and I’ve got nothing against seeing one more. But I like to make my own travel arrangements.

  We walked once again around the metal room.

  Frowning, Flash halted near the two pieces of raw meat. Why do they toss that stuff down to me? he mused. That’s how you’d feed a wild animal.

  The ceiling made a loud grating noise, then a much larger section than before opened.

  Flash could see pale-blue light glowing above, but nothing of his captors.

  Something large was being lowered through the ceiling: a big heavy metal box, judging by the underside of it.

  “No, it’s a cage,” Flash said aloud when the thing had come down farther.

  The big cage was lowered to rest a few feet in front of him. Its barred door hung open.

  The metal floor a yard or less behind him began to sizzle, glowing a flickering red.

  Flash had to step closer to the open cage to get clear of the heat. The sizzling glow followed him.

  “Okay, I get the point,” Flash said to the opening above him. With a mock salute, he stepped into the cage.

  The door clanged shut behind him.

  “Much more docile than some of the other creatures we’ve trapped on Earth,” said the blue man in the silver chair. His lips did not move.

  “But he roars like all the rest of them, Thelon,” answered another blue man standing across the cabin from him. He, too, did not move his lips nor open his mouth.

  They both were small, hardly five feet in height. Their heads were round, melon-shaped, and seemed, if judged by Earth standards, somewhat too large for their slim wiry bodies. Each man wore a dark one-piece flying suit and a soft leather helmet covering their ears. On a bank of viewscreens on the wall of the spacecraft cabin, they watched Flash in his cage.