Tom Swift and The Visitor from Planet X

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.