Victor Appleton - Tom Swift and The Visitor from Planet X

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After recording for several moments, Tom reversed the tape and switched
on the playback. A squeaky jumble of noises could be heard. But one word
seemed to come through fairly distinctly. "Universe!"

"It's talking!" Tom cried out.

"Trying to, but not succeeding very well," Mr. Swift said.

Nevertheless, the two scientists were jubilant at this first
breakthrough. Eagerly they began making adjustments--both on the
electronic-brain hookup and the converter mechanism. Tom was just about
to switch on the tape recorder again when the telephone rang.

The young inventor was annoyed at being interrupted at such a crucial
moment, but picked up the phone. "Tom Swift Jr. speaking."

"You have an urgent call from Washington," the operator informed him.
"Just a moment, please."

Bernt Ahlgren was calling from the Pentagon. The defense expert's voice
was strained.

"Tom, there's just been another attempt to cause an earthquake here in
Washington!"

Tom gasped. "What happened?"

"It failed, thanks to you. But Intelligence believes an attempt will be
made on New York City very soon. We need your help to stop it. How near
completion are the other shock deflectors?"

Before Tom could answer, he heard excited voices at the other end of the
line. Then Ahlgren broke in again abruptly.

"A news flash, Tom! The Walling range-finder plant has been demolished
by an earthquake!"

CHAPTER XIV

AIR-BORNE HIJACKERS

Mr. Swift, hearing Tom's dismayed reaction, rushed to the telephone.

"What's wrong, son?"

Tom clamped his hand over the mouthpiece and quickly gave his father the
news of the destroyed range-finder plant. Then he spoke into the
telephone.

"Bernt, we must prevent another disaster! Let me check with our
construction company on the Quakelizors and I'll call you right back!"

"Right, Tom," Ahlgren agreed.

Both Tom and Mr. Swift were shocked by this latest blow of their
enemies. Tom called Ned Newton at the Swift Construction Company at once
and told him the news.

"How soon will the Quakelizors be ready, Uncle Ned?"

"They're finished, Tom. We're running a final inspection on them right
now. We can have them ready to ship out by one o'clock."

Tom relayed word to the Pentagon. Bernt Ahlgren was greatly relieved.
"By the way," Tom went on, "what about the sites? Have they been chosen
yet?"

"Only tentatively," Ahlgren replied. "We wanted to get your opinion
first."

One of the deflectors, Ahlgren felt, should be based in position to
guard the New York and New England area, in view of Intelligence
warnings about a probable attack on New York City. Another, in the
Cumberland plateau region of Kentucky, could damp out shock waves
threatening either the heavily industrialized Great Lakes area or any
southern city.

As to the other three Quakelizors, Ahlgren suggested that one be
installed on the West Coast, one in the Black Hills of South Dakota, and
the third on the Atlantic island of San Rosario. This would protect both
Latin-American allies and Caribbean defense bases of the United States.

Before deciding, Tom asked that Dr. Miles at the Bureau of Mines be
circuited into the telephone conversation. Mr. Swift, too, joined in on
another line. The four scientists discussed the problem and referred to
geologic maps. Finally the exact sites were agreed upon.

"Dad, I'm going to deliver and install one of those Quakelizors myself,"
Tom declared, after the telephone conference ended. "Judging from that
phone impostor last night, there's no telling what sort of trick our
enemies may try next!"

Mr. Swift approved heartily. "Good idea, son. In the meantime, I'll see
what I can accomplish with Ole Think Box here."

Tom notified Uncle Ned of the delivery sites. He requested that because
of the urgency of the situation, Swift planes transport the Quakelizors.
Mr. Newton promised to have five cargo jets loaded and prepared for
take-off from the construction company airfield.

Next, Tom turned to the job of rounding up flight crews. He decided that
Hank Sterling, Arv Hanson, Art Wiltessa, and a crack Swift test pilot,
Slim Davis, would each captain a plane.

Tom was just hanging up the telephone when Chow wheeled in a lunch cart,
bearing sizzling servings of steak for the two Swifts.

"How's Ole Think Box comin' along?" Chow inquired.

"All right now, but he went berserk a while back," Tom replied with a
chuckle.

Chow eyed the robot apprehensively and made a hasty exit. Both Tom Jr.
and Tom Sr. were amused.

As they ate, the two scientists continued their discussion on how to
equip Exman with senses and the power of speech. Several minutes later,
when they were finishing dessert, Bud came into the laboratory.

"Tom, what's this about you hopping off somewhere to install a
Quakelizor?" he asked anxiously.

"Don't worry, pal. I'll need my usual copilot," Tom said with a grin.
"Just didn't have time to call you before lunch. We'll be flying down to
a place called San Rosario in the Caribbean."

At one o'clock Tom briefed the flight crews and technicians. Slim was
provided with three men who had worked on the original model of the
quake deflector. After making sure that every man knew his job, Tom had
the groups flown by helicopter over to the Swift Construction Company
airfield.

Tom and Bud's cargo jet was the second to take off. On signal from the
tower, the big workhorse thundered down the runway and soared off into
the blue. Soon it was spearing southward above the waters of the
Atlantic.

Presently Bud drew Tom's attention to some blurry specks of light on the
radarscope. "Looks like a formation of planes, skipper."

Tom studied the blips for a while. "Guess you're right. It's sure not a
flock of sea gulls!" The young inventor frowned.

"Worried, Tom?" Bud asked quietly.

Tom shrugged. "It could be a routine military flight."

He increased speed and climbed for altitude. But the blips on the
radarscope showed that the planes were coming steadily closer. It was
clear that they were targeting on the Swift cargo jet.

Tom switched on the radio. Presently a voice crackled over their
headphones:

"Calling Swift jet!" The voice was heavily accented.

"Brungarians!" Bud muttered.

Tom made no reply to the radio challenge. Again came the voice:

"Calling Swift jet! Make emergency landing on the water!"

Tom's only response was a fresh burst of speed. Gunning the jet motors,
he sent the big cargo ship arrowing forward at supersonic velocity.

"There they are!" Bud cried suddenly. He pointed to a cluster of silvery
glints in the sky at seven o'clock.

Tom zoomed downward into a billowing cloud bank. It was a feeble hope
and Tom knew it. His only real chance now was to outrun or outmaneuver
the marauders.

The slim hope faded as they emerged from the cloud cover moments later.
The enemy planes were not only still dogging them, but closing in
rapidly. Sleek, needle-nosed attack ships, they appeared to have
seaplane hulls.

"Wow! Those are new ones!" Bud gasped.

"Our last warning to Swift jet! Hit the water or be shot down!" came the
enemy voice.

Tom raced along, his mind searching frantically for a method of escape.

Bud switched off radio power momentarily. "If we're going to be
hijacked, skipper, let's ditch your invention before it's too late!"

Tom shook his head stubbornly. "Why should I let those pirates bulldoze
us? Actually, I think they're after Exman!"

This last thought was a hunch that had just occurred to Tom. It was
clear that their foe had learned about the arrival of the energy from
space. "But so far," Tom reasoned, "there's no cause to suppose they
know anything about the quake deflectors."

Stalling for time, Tom switched on the radio again and spoke into the
mike. "Swift jet to attack planes. Our home base is picking up every
word of your threats. Shoot us down and America will consider it an act
of war!... Care to risk it?"

There was a moment's silence, then a reply. "War, you say? How can there
be a question of war? War against whom? You do not even know our
national identity!"

"Don't kid yourselves, mister!" Bud put in with a snarl. "We know, all
right, and so does United States Intelligence!"

Tom decided to risk a blunt query, without actually giving away any
facts, in case his hunch about the Brungarian's knowledge was wrong.

"There was a phone call to Swift Enterprises last night," he radioed.
"We know it was a fake. We also know your agents are aware of our
visitor.... Right?"

After a pause, the enemy spokesman replied, "Perhaps. If so, what then?"

"Just this," Tom radioed back. "If you're hoping to meet our visitor,
you're out of luck. I'll give you my word for it. Do you think we'd risk
such a valuable character in an unguarded crate like this?"

Tom and Bud looked at each other. Somehow, both boys felt instinctively
that Tom's words had struck home. The enemy had certainly risen to the
bait.

Finally came the reply. "You Swifts have a reputation for scrupulous
honesty." There was a slight sneer in the speaker's voice as if he
considered this a foolish weakness. "You give me your word of honor that
this--er--character is not aboard?"

"I do!" Tom snapped. "And if you don't trust me, go ahead and risk a
war!"

The boys waited breathlessly for the outcome of Tom's bold gamble. Soon
they saw the result. The pursuing planes suddenly peeled off and sped
away in the direction from which they had first appeared.

"Whew!" Bud wiped his hand across his face and drew it away moist with
perspiration. "How do you like that?"

Tom chuckled with relief. "I like it fine, fly boy. But I was sure
worried there for a while!"

Less than an hour later, the big cargo jet touched down at the San
Rosario airport. An armed guard was on hand to greet the boys, under
command of an officer named Captain Sanchez. He had brought along a work
crew of soldiers and also a geology expert, Professor Leone, from the
island's small technical school.

"I have selected a spot on the eastern shore of the island," the
professor told Tom. He unrolled a map and explained the site.

"Excellent," Tom agreed.

The Quakelizor parts, communications equipment, and small atomic earth
blaster were quickly unloaded and transported to the site by trucks. In
three hours the installation was finished.

Tom, who spoke Spanish fairly well, explained to a small group of San
Rosario military technicians how the quake deflector worked. He also
detailed one of his own men to stay on as trouble shooter for the setup.

"And now," said Captain Sanchez, beaming, "we must relax and celebrate
the friendship of our two countries."

Tom and Bud, though eager to get home, hesitated to hurt the friendly
officer's feelings. They sat through a delicious meal, followed by
numerous speeches. When his own turn to speak came, Tom used it to warn
against possible sabotage attempts by the Brungarians. At last the boys
were allowed to take off with their crew.

"Swell guys," Bud said, when the boys were airborne, "but a bit hard to
break away from!"

Tom grinned, then became serious. "You know, Bud," he said thoughtfully,
"those aerial hijackers gave me an idea."

"Let's have it, skipper."

"If only I could get Exman perfected so he would report back to me," Tom
explained, "I could _let_ him be kidnaped. Think what a wonderful
'inside man' he'd make in the enemy setup! He could tip us off to
everything the Brungarians were doing!"

"Hey, that's neat!" Bud exclaimed, wide-eyed. "But how could you be sure
those Brungarian rebel scientists wouldn't change him somehow? I mean
they might brainwash him or something."

"It's a risk," Tom agreed. "But that's my problem--how to make a perfect
spy out of him."

It was midnight when the cargo jet touched down on the Enterprises
airfield. The boys slept soundly.

The next morning Tom reported to Mr. Swift and Harlan Ames the outcome
of his trip to San Rosario, including the attack en route by unmarked
sky raiders. He also privately told his father about his plan to use
Exman as an electronic spy. Mr. Swift was enthusiastic.

The two scientists promptly set to work. Mr. Swift built two powerful
but miniature radio sets; one for receiving, one for transmitting. Tom,
meanwhile, was busy on another device, also highly miniaturized,
combining features of both the electronic decoder and Tom's famous
midget computers, known as Little Idiots.

With this equipment, Tom hoped, Exman would be able to monitor all
communications at Brungarian rebel headquarters, then radio the
information to Enterprises.

Chow brought lunch to the laboratory at noon, and Bud came in later.
Both stayed to watch the outcome of the experiment. Hank Sterling and
Arv Hanson joined the group.

By midafternoon the equipment was ready for a tryout. Tom opened Exman's
star head, inserted the gear, and made the delicate wiring connections.

"So far, so good," the young inventor murmured, stepping back. "Now for
the real test! Will Exman answer our questions?"

Tom walked over to the electronic decoder brain and began to tap out a
message on the keyboard. The others waited in breathless suspense.

CHAPTER XV

KIDNAPED!

The message which Tom signaled in code over the electronic brain said:

WE HAVE A DANGEROUS PLAN. IF PLAN WORKS, YOU MAY BE EXPOSED TO
ENEMY TAMPERING. WILL THIS BE SAFE? CAN YOU STAND THIS?

There was a tense pause. Then the signal bell rang on the machine and
the keys began to punch out a reply on tape:

NO ONE CAN ALTER THIS BRAIN NOR CAN THEY CHANGE ITS PURPOSE.
THEY CAN ONLY DESTROY THE ENERGY HOLDER.

As Tom finished reading the message aloud, Chow gave a whoop of delight
and the whole group burst into spontaneous cheers.

"Terrific, skipper!" Bud exclaimed, clapping his pal on the back. The
others gathered around to add their congratulations.

Mr. Swift, beaming with pride, gave Tom a quick hand-squeeze. "It's an
amazing achievement, son. And it may prove to be the key for unlocking
the secrets of space, if and when we have time for some research after
this crisis is over."

"I sure hope so, Dad," Tom murmured. Though jubilant, the young inventor
realized that this was only the first step in his plan to checkmate the
Brungarian rebels.

_The real perils still lay ahead!_

Tom called Harlan Ames and asked him to come to the laboratory for a
conference. When the security chief arrived, he was as impressed as the
others with the way Tom was able to communicate with Exman.

"The problem now," Tom said, "is how do we have him kidnaped?"

Chow, wary as a coyote, offered his opinion that the safest way would be
merely to leave the space robot unguarded somewhere about the grounds of
Enterprises.

Ames shook his head. "Too obvious. They'd suspect a trap." Tom agreed.

"Wal, then, how about truckin' him along the highway hereabouts, as if
you all were sendin' him down to Washington?"

This, too, was vetoed on the grounds that a shrewd espionage agent would
guess that such a valuable prize would never be entrusted to a slow and
vulnerable method of transport.

"Then what about an air flight?" Hank Sterling suggested.

"Brand my six-guns, that'd be jest beggin' to git yourself shot down!"
Chow fumed.

"Not if we used a plane like the _Sky Queen_, equipped with jet
lifters," Hank argued. "If any hijack planes jumped us, they'd have to
let us come down safely in order to get their hands on Exman. We could
land on the water or just hover while they made the transfer."

"And after they had it safe aboard their own plane, they'd blast yours
to smithereens!" Chow retorted.

Tom, too, thought a plane flight unwise, but for different reasons. It
might look suspicious to the Brungarians after the Swifts had been
warned by one aerial hijack attempt. Also, they might be deterred by
fear of war, thinking that the United States Air Force would doubtless
be alerted to the possibility of attack.

"So right," Ames agreed. After a thoughtful pause, he added, "Tom, what
about transporting Exman by submarine? We know that every spy apparatus
in this hemisphere is constantly trying to probe what goes on at Fearing
Island, where our subs are based."

"No doubt about that," Tom conceded.

"So," Ames continued, "any move to Fearing would certainly make the
Brungarian agents prick up their ears. Their own spy subs probably would
come prowling around the island and detect the departure of a Swift sub.
And they might feel that an undersea hijack attempt would be a fairly
safe gamble."

The others looked thoughtful, then slowly nodded in agreement. Ames's
reasoning sounded highly logical.

"Tom, you'll insist on going, I suppose," Mr. Swift said somberly.

"Of course, Dad. After all, the kidnap plan was my own idea," Tom
replied. "Another thing I'll insist on is that you _don't_ go. We have
Mother and Sandy to think of, and it's not right that both of us risk
our necks."

Realizing that it was hopeless to dissuade his son, and realizing the
basic fairness of Tom's position, Mr. Swift did not argue. Bud, Hank,
Chow, and Arv immediately volunteered to accompany the young inventor on
his dangerous mission.

Tom gratefully accepted their help. He asked all hands to assemble on
the Enterprises airfield at six the next morning for the flight to
Fearing.

After the others had left, Tom and his father resumed their experiments
with Exman. Mr. Swift suggested adding a device to the radio equipment
to make it disintegrate if tampered with. "Before those rebel
Brungarians can learn the secret of your electronic spy."

"Good idea, Dad. And how about our doing the job with Swiftonium?" This
was an unusual radioactive ore which Tom had discovered in South
America.

Mr. Swift nodded as he began work.

Tom watched admiringly as his father reconstructed the radio, coating
the entire thing with a Swiftonium compound. He at once placed the set
in a small oven which he raised to 50 degrees centigrade.

"When this cools, the set will be stable," Mr. Swift said. "But if you
should move any part of it after it cools, all of the organic parts,
like the circuit boards, the insulation, the carbon resistors, etc.,
will oxidize and disappear as gas. You will not even be able to tamper
with a single unit."

"Wonderful, Dad," Tom murmured when the device was finished. "I wish I
had your know-how in microchemistry."

"And I wish I had yours in electronics!" the elder scientist declared
with a chuckle.

After Mr. Swift had installed the device in Exman's star head, Tom used
the electronic brain to inform the robot about the whole scheme.

Both Tom Jr. and Tom Sr. were delighted when Exman showed real
enthusiasm. It replied via the printed tape on the decoder:

DO NOT WORRY, MY FRIENDS. I WILL NOT RESPOND TO ANY ATTEMPTS BY
BRUNGARIAN SCIENTISTS TO COMMUNICATE WITH ME. MY PLANET IS WELL
AWARE OF THEIR DANGEROUS AIMS. HAVING CONQUERED YOUR WORLD, THEY
WOULD NEXT INVADE SPACE.

"Looks as though Exman's got their number, all right!" Tom said with
satisfaction.

Early the next morning Mr. Swift drove Tom to the Enterprises airfield
to meet his friends. Hank Sterling, Bud, and Chow were already on hand,
and Arv Hanson arrived a few moments later. Tom and Bud left the others
to bring Exman in a small panel truck.

Soon the space robot was safely loaded aboard a transport helicopter.
The others took their places inside the cabin.

"Good luck, son!" Mr. Swift forced a smile as he gave Tom a parting
handshake.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll be back soon!" Tom assured him. The nature of
the trip had been described only vaguely to Mrs. Swift and Sandy in
order to keep them from worrying.

The short hop overwater to Fearing Island was soon completed. Lying just
off the Atlantic coast, Fearing had once been a barren, thumb-shaped
expanse of scrubgrass and sand dunes. Now it was the Swifts' top-secret
rocket base, tightly guarded by drone planes and radar.

As the helicopter approached its destination, Tom radioed for clearance,
then whirred down toward the landing field. The barracks, workshops, and
launching area of the base lay spread out in full view. Cargo rockets
bristled on their launching pads, along with Tom's spaceships, including
the mighty _Titan_, and the oddly shaped _Challenger_ and _Cosmic
Sailer_.

North and south, the island was fringed with docks. Here the recovery
tugs and fuel tankers were moored, as well as the Swifts' fleet of
undersea craft.

Tom had chosen a cargo-hauling jetmarine, named the _Swiftsure_. It was
a larger version of his original two-man jet sub, the _Ocean Dart_. He
had given orders the night before to have it ready for sea by morning.

By jeep and truck, Tom's group sped across the island to the dock. Exman
was quickly lowered aboard through the sub's hatch. The others followed,
the conning-tower hatch was dogged shut, and soon the _Swiftsure_ was
gliding off into the shadowy blue-green depths.

"What's your sailing plan, skipper?" Hank Sterling inquired. The
quiet-spoken, square-jawed engineer stood beside Tom at the atomic
turbine controls and looked out through the transparent nose of the
jetmarine.

"Go slow. Give 'em plenty of chance to pick up our trail," Tom replied.

For two hours they cruised at moderate speed. Nothing happened.
Disappointed, Tom surfaced and radioed his father for news, after
cutting in the automatic scrambling device.

"You're in time for an exciting flash," Mr. Swift reported jubilantly.

"What is it, Dad?"

"An attempt to earthquake New York has just failed!"

Grins broke out on the faces of the crew as they heard Mr. Swift's words
come over the loud-speaker. Bud let out a happy whoop.

"That's great, Dad!" Tom said. "Maybe we've got 'em licked on the quake
front. No luck so far, though, on our new project."

"Well, keep in touch and let me know at once if anything happens," Mr.
Swift urged.

"Right, Dad!" Tom promised.

Again the _Swiftsure_ submerged. This time it was only a few minutes
before Arv Hanson gave a cry of warning.

"Something on the sonarscope, skipper!"

Bud, Hank, and Chow hastily gathered around the scope to watch. The blip
grew larger rapidly. It was clearly another submarine, closing in on a
collision course.

Tom put on a burst of speed, as if attempting to outrace their pursuer.
But he was careful to gauge his knots by reports from the sonarscope, in
order not to widen the gap between the two craft. There seemed no danger
that this would happen, although the _Swiftsure_ raced ahead faster and
faster. Still the enemy sub continued to close in like a marauding
shark, finally passing Tom's craft.

"Some baby!" Bud muttered respectfully.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when a missile streaked across
their bow, in plain view through the _Swiftsure's_ transparent nose. Its
foaming wake rocked the jetmarine.

"They're attacking us!" Bud cried out.

Tom slammed shut the turbine throttle, bringing his craft to a gliding
halt in the water. At the same time, he switched on the sonarphone.

"Orders to Swift sub!" a voice barked over the set. "Surface and heave
to! No tricks, or the next missile will not be across your bow!"

Tom blew his tanks and sent the _Swiftsure_ spearing upward. As the
conning tower broke water, Tom and his men swarmed up on deck. Seconds
later, a sleek gray enemy submarine knifed into view. Its hatch opened
and several men climbed out.

To Tom's amazement, their leader was Samson Narko!

Chow let out a yelp of rage. "Why, you sneakin', double-dyed,
bushwhackin' polecat!" the old Westerner bellowed. "We shoulda kept you
hawg-tied, 'stead o' lettin' you go free!"

Narko ignored the outburst and raised a megaphone to his lips. "Hand
over your cargo and do it quickly!"

"What cargo?" Tom snapped back. "And what's the meaning of this outrage?
You realize this is piracy?"

"I realize you will wind up on the bottom at the slightest show of
resistance!" Narko warned menacingly. "You know very well what cargo
I refer to! Now do not try our patience!"

[Illustration (a submarine attacks the Swiftsure)]

Tom and his crew pretended to put up a blustering, indignant front. Chow
was especially convincing, with a blistering torrent of salty Texas
invectives.

Narko's only response was a barked-out order to his men in Brungarian.
Quickly the enemy submarine maneuvered closer until the two craft were
almost chockablock. Narko and his men then leaped aboard the
_Swiftsure_, armed with sub-machine guns and automatics.

"I'm warning you, Narko--" Tom began angrily. But Narko cut the young
inventor short by a poke in his ribs with the gun muzzle, then issued
orders to two of his men to go below.

Moments later, Exman was being hauled up through the hatch and
transferred aboard the raider. The Americans glared in angry silence.

"Thanks so much, my stupid friends!" Narko taunted them with a jeering
laugh. Then he followed his crewmen as the last one scrambled back to
the enemy submarine.

With laughs and waves, they disappeared into its conning tower. The
hatch was clamped shut and the raider promptly submerged.

Tom and his men were amazed, but delighted at not having been taken
prisoner along with Exman. All of them broke into happy chuckles of
relief.

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