Flash Gordon 3 - The Space Circus Read Online Free
Author: Alex Raymond
outsiders.”
Booker shook his head. “I wish you hadn’t thought of that.”
“We’ll find out soon. They’re coming to my cage,” said Flash. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” he asked the bent old man who stopped in front of his cage.
The auctioneer ignored Flash and, with his back to the cage, began gesturing at the silent audience.
There was considerable interest in Flash. Nearly all the bidders pushed in close to his cage. One blue man came forward hesitantly, and started to reach through the bars to touch Flash. Thinking better of it, he hopped back.
Flash watched the faces of the blue men watching him. He could tell who was bidding on him by their expressions of interest and cunning and sudden anger. A few of them also gestured with their hands while putting forth a bid. Flash noticed one man who gestured considerably. He was a good deal heavier than most of the others and had a full red mustache. His crimson-silk cloak was trimmed with gold.
“Aren’t you going to do something?” Booker asked Flash.
“What I’m going to do,” replied Flash, “is wait and see what happens.”
“Yeah, but suppose you’re right? Suppose these guys are cannibals, or even something worse?”
Flash grinned. “I’m not in the cooking pot yet.”
A few low moans rose from the crowd of bidders. They shuffled, then moved over to stare into Booker’s cage. The fat blue man with the red mustache remained in front of Flash, his plump hands locked behind his back. In a moment, a landtruck was again hooked to the cage.
Flash was carried away, out into the hazy afternoon.
The fat blue man remained, hands behind his back, in the huge auction hall. When the cage holding Flash was gone, he turned to inspect Booker.
“A fine specimen,” the bent old auctioneer was saying, his thought traveling into the minds of all of the blue men watching him. “Captured, after a ferocious struggle, on the distant planet of Mars. He’d make an excellent addition to your enterprise, Barko.”
Barko, the fat man, drummed his plump fingers on the earpiece of his helmet. “He seems surly, likely to be uncooperative.”
“He’s nearly as strong as the one you’ve just purchased.”
Barko studied the protesting Booker. “Perhaps we could use him. Not as a major attraction, however. Most certainly not at the price I was forced to pay for the other one.”
“Shall we start the bidding at five hundred harlans, gentlemen?” asked the old man.
Barko smiled. “I bid four hundred.”
“Four hundred? How often does one have the opportunity of bidding on a remarkable Martian specimen such as this?”
“Why are you all staring at me?” shouted Booker. “Let me out of this damn thing!”
“Four hundred twenty-five,” offered another of the blue men.
“Four hundred fifty,” countered Barko.
“Surely he is worth much more than four hundred fifty harlans, gentlemen.”
“Four hundred seventy-five.”
“Five hundred.”
“Ah, we have arrived at the price I originally suggested. Much too low at that.”
“Five hundred twenty-five.”
“Six hundred,” bid Barko.
“Ah, so you do wish him as an attraction, Barko. I thought as much,” said the auctioneer, a smile revealing yet more wrinkles on his wrinkled blue face. “Are there any further bids?”
There were none.
“Sold for six hundred harlans to Barko’s Interplanetary Circus.”
CHAPTER 8
A shimmering glare filled the amphitheater. The place was as large as any outdoor stadium Flash had ever seen. Several thousand round-headed blue people sat on the stone benches that ringed the oval field. The field itself was covered with a soft flaky substance that reflected the harsh light of the afternoon sun.
Flash surveyed the place as his cage was rolled out of an entry tunnel. That stuff must be the local version of sawdust, he decided. And, I’m willing to bet, this is a circus of some kind.
A number of things were happening in the arena. A green man was
Booker shook his head. “I wish you hadn’t thought of that.”
“We’ll find out soon. They’re coming to my cage,” said Flash. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” he asked the bent old man who stopped in front of his cage.
The auctioneer ignored Flash and, with his back to the cage, began gesturing at the silent audience.
There was considerable interest in Flash. Nearly all the bidders pushed in close to his cage. One blue man came forward hesitantly, and started to reach through the bars to touch Flash. Thinking better of it, he hopped back.
Flash watched the faces of the blue men watching him. He could tell who was bidding on him by their expressions of interest and cunning and sudden anger. A few of them also gestured with their hands while putting forth a bid. Flash noticed one man who gestured considerably. He was a good deal heavier than most of the others and had a full red mustache. His crimson-silk cloak was trimmed with gold.
“Aren’t you going to do something?” Booker asked Flash.
“What I’m going to do,” replied Flash, “is wait and see what happens.”
“Yeah, but suppose you’re right? Suppose these guys are cannibals, or even something worse?”
Flash grinned. “I’m not in the cooking pot yet.”
A few low moans rose from the crowd of bidders. They shuffled, then moved over to stare into Booker’s cage. The fat blue man with the red mustache remained in front of Flash, his plump hands locked behind his back. In a moment, a landtruck was again hooked to the cage.
Flash was carried away, out into the hazy afternoon.
The fat blue man remained, hands behind his back, in the huge auction hall. When the cage holding Flash was gone, he turned to inspect Booker.
“A fine specimen,” the bent old auctioneer was saying, his thought traveling into the minds of all of the blue men watching him. “Captured, after a ferocious struggle, on the distant planet of Mars. He’d make an excellent addition to your enterprise, Barko.”
Barko, the fat man, drummed his plump fingers on the earpiece of his helmet. “He seems surly, likely to be uncooperative.”
“He’s nearly as strong as the one you’ve just purchased.”
Barko studied the protesting Booker. “Perhaps we could use him. Not as a major attraction, however. Most certainly not at the price I was forced to pay for the other one.”
“Shall we start the bidding at five hundred harlans, gentlemen?” asked the old man.
Barko smiled. “I bid four hundred.”
“Four hundred? How often does one have the opportunity of bidding on a remarkable Martian specimen such as this?”
“Why are you all staring at me?” shouted Booker. “Let me out of this damn thing!”
“Four hundred twenty-five,” offered another of the blue men.
“Four hundred fifty,” countered Barko.
“Surely he is worth much more than four hundred fifty harlans, gentlemen.”
“Four hundred seventy-five.”
“Five hundred.”
“Ah, we have arrived at the price I originally suggested. Much too low at that.”
“Five hundred twenty-five.”
“Six hundred,” bid Barko.
“Ah, so you do wish him as an attraction, Barko. I thought as much,” said the auctioneer, a smile revealing yet more wrinkles on his wrinkled blue face. “Are there any further bids?”
There were none.
“Sold for six hundred harlans to Barko’s Interplanetary Circus.”
CHAPTER 8
A shimmering glare filled the amphitheater. The place was as large as any outdoor stadium Flash had ever seen. Several thousand round-headed blue people sat on the stone benches that ringed the oval field. The field itself was covered with a soft flaky substance that reflected the harsh light of the afternoon sun.
Flash surveyed the place as his cage was rolled out of an entry tunnel. That stuff must be the local version of sawdust, he decided. And, I’m willing to bet, this is a circus of some kind.
A number of things were happening in the arena. A green man was
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