Victor Appleton - Tom Swift and The Visitor from Planet X
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Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift and The Visitor from Planet X
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"Tom, I'll talk to the president's special science adviser at once," the
man promised. "I'll try to set up a meeting for ten o'clock tomorrow
morning at Enterprises."
Feeling relieved, Tom left the plant with Bud. The two boys drove off to
attend church with Mrs. Swift and Sandy. Then, after the Sunday midday
meal, Tom returned to his laboratory to work on ideas for a shock-wave
deflector.
Bud and Sandy, meanwhile, drove to the Shopton Yacht Club to inspect the
damage to the _Sunspot_. Tom had arranged with a salvage crew to tow the
disabled ketch back to its slip.
Monday morning, a sleek Air Force jet transport touched down at Swift
Enterprises. Aboard were a select group of top government scientists.
Tom and Bud greeted them as they disembarked on the runway, then drove
them to a conference room in the Enterprises main building.
"I'd say your theory is right, Tom, about the quakes being produced by
artificial shock waves," said Bernt Ahlgren, a tall, hawk-faced man with
a shock of red hair. He was a member of the Defense Department's
Advanced Research Projects Agency. "But how do we stop them?"
"I believe they can be damped out by opposing waves," Tom replied. "This
is assuming that I can design the right sort of equipment to do the
job--and also that we can set up a warning system to alert us of the
enemy shock waves in time." The young inventor sketched out the sort of
shock-wave deflector which he had in mind. The government experts were
very much impressed. In the session that followed, the visiting
scientists contributed many tips and suggestions. Tom noted them down
gratefully.
After a thorough discussion, it was agreed that the Defense Department
would set up detectors at fifty check points around the country. Tom
would choose the exact spots. Detection data from the check points would
be fed to an electronic computer. The computer would establish the
pattern, if any, of incoming enemy shock waves.
Dr. Gregg Miles, a seismologist from the Bureau of Mines, agreed to take
on the job of setting up the check points.
"Thanks for your prompt co-operation," Tom said, smiling gratefully as
the meeting broke up.
"We should thank you, Tom, for coming up with a plan to cope with this
fiendish threat," Ahlgren replied. The others heartily agreed.
Shortly after lunch, Tom was hard at work in his laboratory when the
telephone rang. It was Chief Slater at Shopton police headquarters.
"You'd better get over here fast, Tom," Slater said. "Samson Narko is
ready to talk!"
Tom needed no urging. "Right, Chief!"
As he drove into Shopton, Tom wondered what the Brungarian agent would
reveal. Was it possible that he might tip off the whole secret behind
the destructive man-made earthquakes?
Chief Slater was waiting in his office. "Narko showed signs of cracking
this morning," Slater told Tom, "so I notified the Central Intelligence
Agency. They're flying a man up here--in fact he should be here by now.
Narko won't talk till he arrives."
"How come?" Tom asked.
"Narko wants a bargain," Slater explained. "If the government will
promise to deport him at once without trial, he'll spill what he knows."
Tom whistled. "I sure wouldn't want to be in _his_ shoes when he gets
back to Brungaria! His bosses aren't stupid. They'll know he must have
made a deal to get off scot free!"
Just then a taxi from the airport pulled up outside police headquarters,
and the CIA official was ushered into Slater's office. He proved to be
John Thurston.
"Narko's waiting in his cell," Slater said, after an exchange of
handshakes. "Let's hope he hasn't changed his mind."
The Brungarian spy rose from his cot as the turnkey unlocked his cell
door.
"You are from Washington, eh?" Narko said to Thurston. "Very well.
I presume the police have told you my offer. Is it a bargain?"
Thurston was poker-faced. "You know the penalty for spying!" he snapped.
"In your own country it would mean death. Why should we let you off?"
Narko's calmness evaporated. Beads of sweat burst out on his forehead.
"I have done no harm and I know little or nothing of my superiors'
plans!" the spy said excitedly. "Why should I lie to you with my life at
stake? After all, I am only an insignificant agent. But one important
thing I do know--and this I will reveal if you promise to deport me at
once!"
Thurston eyed him coldly. "Very well," the CIA man decided. "You have my
word."
Narko sat down on his cot, breathing heavily. Then he looked up at the
three Americans. "Your nation's capital, Washington, D.C., is going to
be blown up!" the Brungarian asserted.
His words struck like a bombshell. Chief Slater and John Thurston stared
at Narko in open-mouthed astonishment.
Then Slater scowled. "What a preposterous story! I suppose they're going
to fly a plane over and drop an atom bomb--just like that!" He snapped
his fingers.
Thurston was also inclined to doubt Narko's story. Any such bold move by
the Brungarians, he declared, would amount to an act of war.
"It is the truth!" Narko shouted. "Do not forget--you have made a
promise."
Tom Swift did not share Chief Slater's and Thurston's skepticism.
Narko's words had chilled him with dismay. He called the other two aside
and gave them a quick whispered briefing on the theory he had discussed
with the government scientists, asking them to keep it confidential.
If the Brungarians indeed had a means of producing artificial shock
waves, Tom pointed out, they could easily destroy Washington without the
slightest risk to themselves.
Both Thurston and Chief Slater were alarmed. Turning back to Narko, they
grilled him for clues. But it seemed obvious that the Brungarian was
telling all he knew--or, at any rate, all he intended to reveal.
"We're wasting our time," Thurston said finally, with a look of disgust.
"But I made a promise in the name of the United States government and
the promise will be kept."
Turning to Chief Slater, the CIA man added, "Turn him over to the FBI
and have them take him to New York. I'll arrange for a seat on the first
plane for Brungaria."
Tom drove back thoughtfully to Enterprises. Bud was waiting in his
laboratory with news.
"Your dad went from Washington to Fearing Island and has gone up to your
space outpost," Bud reported. "He has to do some experiments for the
government project he's working on."
The outpost was a space station which Tom Swift Jr. had built 22,300
miles above the earth. It was a production factory for his famous solar
batteries, and also an immensely valuable setup for space research and
exploration.
"Think I'll radio Dad and let him know what's going on," Tom decided.
"He may have some good suggestions. He usually does!"
Tom warmed up his private transmitter-receiver and beamed out a code
call through the automatic scrambler. Seconds later, the loud-speaker
crackled in response.
But just as the outpost operator's voice came through, the radio set
exploded in Tom's face!
CHAPTER IX
THE CAVE MONSTER
"Skipper!" Bud cried anxiously as Tom staggered back, his hands to his
face.
"I'm all right--no harm done," Tom assured his friend.
Both boys were a bit shaken by the accident, nevertheless. Chow came
rushing in as Bud was brushing the fragments of debris from Tom's
clothes and examining the young inventor's face.
"Brand my flyin' flapjacks, what happened?" Chow asked. The chef had
been bringing a tray of fruit juice to the laboratory and had heard the
explosion outside.
"The radio set just blew up in my face," Tom explained. "Fortunately,
the equipment was transistorized mostly with printed circuits.
Otherwise," he added, "I might have been badly cut by slivers of glass
from the exploding vacuum tubes."
As it was, the young inventor had suffered only a few slight scratches
and a bruise on the temple from a piece of the shattered housing. Bud
swabbed Tom's injuries with antiseptic from the first-aid cabinet while
Chow poured out glasses of grape juice.
"What caused it, Tom?" Bud asked as they paused to sip the fruit drink.
"Good question," Tom replied. "Frankly, I don't know." But he was
wondering if the set might have been sabotaged.
Tom was still eager to get in touch with his father and telephoned the
electronics department to bring another set to his laboratory. Chow left
just as the new set arrived.
Tom hooked it up quickly, donned a set of goggles, and tuned to the
space-station frequency. Then he picked up the microphone and stepped
well back from the set, waving Bud out of range at the same time.
"Tom Swift calling Outpost!... Come in, please!"
A moment later came another explosion! _The new set had also blown up!_
"Good night!" Bud gasped in a stunned voice. "Don't tell me that's just
a coincidence!"
Tom shrugged. "We can certainly rule out the possibility that anything
was wrong with the radio itself. Every set is checked before it leaves
the electronics department."
"So where does that leave us?" Bud persisted.
Tom shook his head worriedly as he took off the goggles. "Both times it
seemed to happen just as the reply was coming through from the space
station. There is no possibility that their signal was too strong--in
other words, that the explosion was caused by overloading the receiving
circuits."
"Are you implying that an enemy intercepted the message and sent some
sort of ray that caused the set to explode?" Bud demanded.
Tom's face showed clearly that Bud had pinpointed the suspicion in the
young inventor's mind. "Could be."
Bud was worried by this latest development. "Skipper, suppose I hop up
to the space wheel and talk it over with your dad. He may be able to
help us detect any enemy moves."
"Good idea, pal," Tom agreed. "The sooner the better, I'd say."
The boys exchanged a quick handshake and affectionate shoulder slaps.
Then Bud hurried out to one of the Enterprises hangars to ready a
helijet for the flight to Fearing Island. This was the Swifts' rocket
base, just off the Atlantic coast. From there, Bud would board one of
the regular cargo shuttle rockets operating between the space station
and Fearing.
Tom, meanwhile, plunged back to work on his shock-wave deflector.
At ten the next morning he called in Hank Sterling and showed him a set
of completed drawings.
"Hank, you did a fast job on the container for the brain," Tom began
apologetically, "but you'll really have to burn out a bearing on this
one!"
Hank grinned. "I'm geared to action. Say, what do we call it, anyhow?"
he asked.
Tom grinned. "Chow told me last night this gadget looked like a fireplug
under a rose trellis and I ought to call it Fireplug Rose! But I've
given it a more dignified name--the Quakelizor, which stands for an
underground quake wave deflector."
Briefly, Tom explained the various parts of his latest invention, which
consisted of a hydrant-sized cylinder to be inserted into the ground,
with magnetic coils near the top. A smaller hydraulic cylinder, mounted
above this, was wired to a metal framework and radio transmitter.
"This setup will detect any incoming enemy shock waves," Tom said.
"We'll need fifty of 'em, so turn the job over to Swift Construction.
And have Uncle Ned put on extra shifts."
The Swift Construction Company, managed by Ned Newton, was the
commercial division which mass-produced Tom Jr.'s and Tom Sr.'s
inventions.
Information from the detector-transmitters, Tom went on, would be fed
into an electronic computer at the Bureau of Mines in Washington.
The Quakelizor itself was housed in a massive cube-shaped casting with
two large spheres mounted on top. From each of its four sides jutted a
hydraulic piston.
"How does it work, Tom?" Hank asked.
"Dual-control spheres on top," Tom explained, "will receive by radio
signal the pulse frequency computed in Washington."
He added that inside each sphere was a "pulsemaker." This would produce
changes in the pressure of the hydraulic fluid by affecting the kinetic
energy of the fluid's atoms.
The pressure changes would then be enormously magnified in the four
hydraulic output drivers. When the unit was embedded in rock,
underground, the huge pistons would send out counter shock waves through
the earth's crust to neutralize the enemy waves.
"Wow!" Hank Sterling was breathless at the sheer scope of the young
scientist's newest invention. "I'll get hot on the job right away."
After forty-eight hours of round-the-clock work, the equipment was
ready. Tom conferred by telephone with both Dr. Miles in the Bureau of
Mines and Bernt Ahlgren in the Pentagon. He had already chosen the spots
for the detector-transmitter check points.
Tom told the men that he believed the best spot for the Quakelizor
itself was on a certain government reservation in Colorado. A deep
underground cave there would provide a perfect site.
"We'll be close enough to the San Andreas fault to prevent a really
huge-scale disaster," Tom explained. "And the Rocky Mountain structure
will give us a good bedrock medium for shooting out waves anywhere
across the continent."
Dr. Miles and Ahlgren agreed enthusiastically. Tom and the two
scientists spoke over a three-way telephone hookup--with automatic
scramblers to counter the danger of enemy monitors--laying plans to
install the equipment. Ahlgren agreed to fly a technical crew out to the
spot in Colorado which Tom had named.
The next day, Tom, Hank, and several top Enterprises' engineers,
including Art Wiltessa, took off in the _Sky Queen_. This was Tom's huge
atomic-powered Flying Lab. The massive plane flew at supersonic speeds
and was equipped with jet lifters for vertical take-off or hovering.
A Whirling Duck heliplane, loaded with communications equipment,
accompanied the _Sky Queen_. In little more than an hour, the two craft
touched down in a rugged Colorado canyon. The government technical crew
was already on hand.
"Glad to know you," Tom said, shaking hands with the engineer in charge.
He introduced his own men and added, "Better roll up your sleeves. This
job is going to take plenty of oomph!"
The parts of the Quakelizor were unloaded from the _Sky Queen_ onto
dollies. Then the group, armed with bull's-eye lanterns, flashlights,
and walkie-talkies, hauled the parts by tractor into the cave.
"Okay. Now let's pick out the spot for embedding the unit," Tom said.
The men had no sooner begun to look around the huge underground chamber
when a fearsome growl rumbled through the cave. Everyone whirled about
and the next instant froze in horror.
A huge bear reared up in the mouth of the cave! The monster snarled and
blinked its yellow eyes in the glare of lights.
"We're trapped!" Hank cried out.
The enormous bruin was now waving his huge head from side to side, as if
daring the intruders to step up and fight.
Several of the government men had brought rifles and shotguns. But in
spite of their peril, no one wanted to shoot the handsome old fellow.
"I'll send out an SOS," Tom said. "If help arrives before the bear
attacks, we won't use guns."
He radioed the local Forest Ranger post. After a nerve-racking wait,
with the group expecting a charge from the beast at any minute, two
rangers appeared and captured the bear with a net. One man of the
government work crew knocked together a stout wooden cage. The beast,
outraged, was loaded aboard the heliplane to be released in an area
remote from the cave.
[Illustration (Tom and Hank meet a bear in the cave)]
Now the grueling job of installing the Quakelizor began. First the cave
was cleared of debris, bats, and other small living creatures. Then a
site was marked out on the cave floor. Tom had brought along a midget
model of his great atomic earth blaster, which he had invented to drill
for iron at the South Pole.
With the blaster, Tom quickly drilled a pit of exact size into the
bedrock. Then the Quakelizor was assembled and lowered into place by a
portable crane. A power plant and radio antenna were set up and the
installation was finally completed.
"I must return to Shopton now," Tom said. "Art here will stick around
and help you operate the setup," he told the government engineers after
radio contact had been made with Washington. "If anything goes wrong,
just flash word to Enterprises."
The _Sky Queen_ and the heliplane sped back across the continent. As Tom
landed at Enterprises he was greeted by Bud, who came speeding out on
the airfield by jeep.
"Just got back from the space wheel about an hour ago," Bud said. "Your
dad's really worried about those exploding radio sets, Tom. He has no
clues, but he's sure the scientists working for the Brungarian rebel
setup are responsible. He thinks they may try to ruin all of
Enterprises' communications system by remote control."
Tom's face was grave as he listened. The two boys discussed the problem
as they drove to the Swifts' office in the main building.
"Boy, I sure wish I could think of some way to cope with it," Tom said
wearily, flopping down in his desk chair.
"Your dad said to give it the old college try," Bud reported. "And he
also said he'd be back in two days to help you on the problem."
Tom glanced at the calendar. "Which reminds me," he said, "on Monday the
brain energy will be due from space!"
The thought sent a thrill of excitement tinged with worry through the
young inventor's mind. Would the container he had devised prove
suitable?
"Hey! A call on the videophone!" Bud pointed to the red light flashing
on the control board. He jumped up and switched on the set.
Blake, the Washington announcer, appeared on the screen.
"Bad news, skipper," he said ominously. "An earthquake tremor was just
felt here in Washington. It centered in a shipyard on the Potomac and
caused great damage!"
CHAPTER X
ENERGY FROM PLANET X
Tom and Bud listened in dismay as Blake reported all the details he had
been able to gather.
"Was my Quakelizor a flop, Bud?" Tom muttered, his shoulders drooping as
the announcer signed off. "It must have been!"
"Don't be silly! Snap out of it!" Bud gave his pal a cheerful poke in
the ribs, hoping to buck him up. "You heard what Blake said--Washington
itself was hardly touched. Without your setup, think of all the people
that _might_ have been killed or injured! And all the government
buildings that might have been wrecked, maybe even the White House. I'd
say your shock-wave deflector must have been at least ninety per cent
effective!"
Tom brightened somewhat on hearing Bud's words. He picked up the phone,
and placed a call to Dr. Miles at the Bureau of Mines. It was almost
half an hour before the operator was able to get a line through. But Tom
felt the suspense had been worth while when Dr. Miles exclaimed:
"Tom, it was a miracle you completed the Quakelizor installation in
time! In all probability it saved us from a major national disaster,
perhaps worse than Pearl Harbor!"
Tom felt a glow of pride and relief. "Thanks, sir. But what about the
shipyard destruction?" he added, still not entirely convinced.
"That was a bad break, Tom," Dr. Miles admitted. "Our detectors showed
that the shock waves had been almost damped out when a sudden power
failure occurred. It turned out that an overload had shorted the
Quakelizor's power plant. The crew had it fixed within moments, but by
that time the damage was done."
Tom winced as he heard of the unfortunate accident, but was thankful the
results had been no worse.
Miles went on to say that he had just been conferring with Ahlgren at
the Pentagon. The Defense Department now feared that attempts might be
made against other large cities and was therefore eager to have Tom
deliver several quake deflectors as soon as possible. These would be
installed at strategic points around the country.
"The government heads were so impressed with your invention, Tom," Dr.
Miles added, "that they'll probably be walking the floor anxiously until
the others arrive."
Tom chuckled, then became serious. "Tell them we'll go to work right
away," he informed the seismologist. "I'll have the new Quakelizors
ready as soon as possible, but you'd better warn your associates it's
bound to take a few days."
As soon as the conversation was completed, Tom dialed Ned Newton at the
Swift Construction Company. Although he was actually not a relative of
the Swifts, both Tom and Sandy had from childhood called him "Uncle
Ned."
"What's up, Tom?" he asked.
Tom told him of the latest request from Washington and asked that
another three-shift work schedule be set up to turn out the additional
Quakelizors.
"Hank and I will bring the blueprints over right away, if you don't mind
being late to dinner," Tom said.
Ned Newton agreed willingly, only too happy to help cope with the quake
menace. By eight o'clock that evening, work on the project was
proceeding at great speed. The Swift Construction Company continued
humming with activity around the clock.
The week end was almost over by the time Mr. Swift arrived back from the
space station. Tom flew to Fearing Island to meet him. On the short hop
back to Enterprises, they discussed the radio problem.
"I think the solution's been staring us in the face, Dad, but we've been
too worried to think of it," Tom said. "Remember Li Ching's jamming-wave
generator?"
He was referring to a device used recently by an Oriental foe of Tom and
his father. Mr. Swift's eyes lighted up with a quick flash of
understanding.
"Dad, you wrote a report on the generator for the government with a memo
on possible ways to combat it," Tom went on. "Maybe the same measures
would work in this case."
The Swifts had discovered that their enemy had been intercepting Tom's
messages, thereby learning the frequency to which the Swifts' receiver
was tuned. They then radiated a signal at this frequency, modulated at
the frequency to which the local oscillator was set. This had caused a
buildup of energy in the I.F. transformers, resulting in their
explosion.
Now Mr. Swift said, "You're right, son. We'll insert a blocking filter
in the R.F. stage that should do the trick."
Their minds relieved of this problem, the Swifts were eagerly looking
forward to the arrival of the brain energy from space the next day. The
scheduled time, if pinpointed at exactly two weeks from the moment when
the first message was received, would be half an hour past noon.
The spot, two miles from Enterprises, was on a lonely hillside. It was
shaded by trees, higher up the slope, with bushes and other wild-growing
greenery softening its contours. Over the week end, Tom had had
carpenters from Enterprises put up a small cabin at the foot.
As twelve-thirty approached, Tom, Bud, Mr. Swift, Hank Sterling, Arv
Hanson, and several other Swift technicians stood by at the scene with
the star-headed container. Chow had also begged to be on hand.
"I jest got to see Ole Think Box come to life!" he said.
Eyes darted back and forth from wrist watches to sky as the zero moment
ticked closer. Bud even began muttering a countdown.
"X minus three... X minus two... X minus one... This is it!"
All eyes flashed skyward. _But nothing happened!_ Not a speck showed in
the blue, cloudless sky.
The watchers glanced at one another uncertainly. More minutes went by.
Soon it was quarter to one... then one o'clock.
"No mistake about the time, was there?" Arv asked.
Mr. Swift shook his head. "Not if the code was translated correctly." He
frowned. "It's true they spoke merely in terms of days. But their time
references are usually very precise."
The waiting group fidgeted and prowled back and forth to ease their
tension. Feelings of suspense began changing into gloom after two more
hours had passed with no sign from the sky.
Disappointed but unable to wait any longer, the technical men went back
to the plant, one by one. Hank Sterling, too, and Arv Hanson finally had
to leave.
"Sorry, skipper," Hank muttered. "Ring us right away if it shows up."
"Sure, Hank."
As six o'clock went by, Chow tried to pep up his companions' drooping
spirits with a simple but tasty supper, warmed up on an electric hot
plate in the cabin.
"What do you think, skipper? Are we out of luck?" Bud asked as they ate.
"Our space friends haven't let us down yet," Tom replied. "I'm sure they
won't this time." Though he didn't say so aloud, Tom was worried that
their Brungarian enemies might have managed to divert and capture the
energy.
Mr. Swift seemed to read Tom's thoughts. "Let's hope no hitch has
occurred," he said quietly.
The sun went down. Twilight slowly deepened. The trees on the hillside
faded from view in the gathering darkness.
"_There it is!_" Bud yelled suddenly.
Electrified, the four sprang up in an instant. A speck of light was
sailing across the sky! But their faces fell as it drew closer.
"Only an airplane," Bud grumbled.
At ten o'clock Mr. Swift gave a weary yawn. "The spirit is willing but
the flesh is weak," he confessed. "I got only two hours of sleep on the
space wheel, and apparently last night wasn't enough to catch up. Sorry,
fellows."
"Why don't you go home, Dad? Hit the hay," Tom said sympathetically.
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