Tom Swift and The Visitor from Planet X

AN URGENT WARNING

Mr. Swift looked on eagerly as Tom explained and demonstrated his touch apparatus.  By moving a pantograph control, Tom was able to manipulate the claws like a hand with fingers.  Whenever they touched any material, the brain gauges instantly registered an electrical reaction inside the sphere.

The swing of a voltmeter needle showed how firmly the substance resisted the claw’s touch, thus indicating its hardness or softness.

“With a computer device, such as we planted in Exman,” Tom went on, “the brain would also be able to assimilate the textural pattern of any substance.”

“Wonderful, son!” Mr. Swift exclaimed.  “I hope I can do as well with this artificial sense of sight I’m working on.”

Another hour went by before Mr. Swift was ready to test his own arrangement.

“You’ve probably heard of the experiments conducted with blind persons,” he told Tom.  “By stimulating the right part of their brain with a lead from a cathode-ray-tube device, an awareness of light and dark can be restored.”

Tom nodded.

“Well, I’m using the same principle,” Mr. Swift went on, “but with a sort of television camera scanning setup.”

He asked Tom to draw the drapes and shut off the room lights, throwing the laboratory into complete darkness, except for the weirdly glowing “brain” in the glass sphere.  Then Mr. Swift shone a flashlight at the scanner.  The brain responded by glowing more brightly itself!

Next, after the drapes were opened again and the overhead fluorescent lights switched on, Mr. Swift painted a pattern of black-and-white stripes on a large piece of cardboard.  He held this up to the scanner.

Visible ripples of brightness and less-brightness passed through the glowing ball of energy inside the sphere.  It was reproducing the striped pattern!

“Dad, that’s amazing!” Tom said with real admiration.

Mr. Swift shook his head.  “Pretty crude, I’m afraid.  The brain energy by itself can’t take the place of a picture tube in a TV receiver.  What we need is an analog computer to sum up the scanning pattern picked up by the camera tube and then pass this information along in code form.”

Before Tom could comment, the alarm bell rang on the electronic brain.  The Swifts dropped everything and rushed to the machine.

“Wonder if it’s Exman?” Tom exclaimed.

The answer was quickly revealed as the keys began punching out the incoming message on tape.  At the same time, a flow of strange mathematical symbols flashed, one after another, on the lighted oscilloscope screen mounted above the keyboard.

Tom and his father read the tape as it unreeled.

    SPACE BEINGS TO SWIFTS.  REQUEST INFORMATION ON PROGRESS AND
    RESULTS OF ENERGY SENT TO YOUR PLANET.

After a quick consultation with his father, Tom beamed out the reply: 

    WE ARE PLEASED WITH RESULTS SO FAR.  FURTHER EXPERIMENTS NOW
    GOING ON.  REQUEST VISIT TO CONTINUE LONGER THAN TWENTY-ONE DAYS
    AS PLANNED.

Hopefully the Swifts stood by the machine.  Would their space friends agree?  As the minutes went by without a response coming through, father and son exchanged anxious glances.

“They’ve got to let Exman stay, Dad!” Tom said.

Mr. Swift nodded.  “I’m afraid, though, the space beings have decided otherwise.  They—­”

He was interrupted by the ringing of the alarm bell.  “Message, Dad!” Tom said tersely.

A moment later they were overjoyed to see three words appear on the tape: 

    VISIT EXTENSION GRANTED.

Relieved, the two scientists went back to work on their sensing experiments.  Twenty minutes later the signal bell rang again on the electronic brain.

“This time it must be Exman!” Tom cried.

The unreeling tape quickly bore out his guess.

    EXMAN TO SWIFTS.  TWENTY-FOUR-HOUR EARTHQUAKE UNDER HIGH LOYALTY.

“What!” Tom stared at the tape, his brow creased in a puzzled frown.  “That ‘twenty-four-hour earthquake’ bit must mean he’s warning us that a quake will occur in twenty-four hours.  But what about the rest of it?”

“Hmm…  ‘Under high loyalty.’” Mr. Swift was as baffled as Tom.  He studied the message for several minutes.  It seemed highly unlikely that the electronic brain had made an error in decoding.  Any new or untranslatable symbol caused a red light to flash on the machine.

“I think the only thing we can do is signal Exman and ask for a clarification, Tom,” Mr. Swift decided at last.

Tom agreed.  He beamed out a hasty code signal: 

    EXPLAIN MESSAGE.

Seconds later came Exman’s reply.  It was identical with the first message: 

    TWENTY-FOUR-HOUR EARTHQUAKE UNDER HIGH LOYALTY.

Tom and Mr. Swift stared at each other anxiously.

“Good night, Dad!  This is horrible!” Tom exclaimed.  “Exman sends us ample warning of a disaster and we’re stymied!”

  [Illustration (Tom Jr. and Tom Sr. read a message from Exman)]

“Hi!  What’s going on, you two?” asked a merry voice.  “More heavy thinking?”

Sandy Swift stood smiling in the doorway.  The smile gave way to a look of concern as Tom explained the crisis.

“How dreadful!” Sandy gasped.  “We must figure out what it means!...  Wait a minute!”

Tom looked at her expectantly.  “Got an idea, Sis?”

“Well…”  The pretty, blond teen-ager hesitated.  “You don’t suppose Exman might have been translating some foreign words with a meaning similar to ‘high loyalty’?  For instance, high loyalty could mean ’good faith.’  I know that in Latin ‘good faith’ would be bona fide.”

“Sandy!  You’ve guessed it!” Tom crossed the room in a single bound, gave his sister a quick hug, and whirled her around.  “Exman must mean the Bona Fide Submarine Building Corporation!  He didn’t dare risk telling us the exact translation.”

“Of course!” Mr. Swift was equally jubilant.  But his face was grave as he added, “The company’s located on the West Coast close to the San Andreas fault.  Tom, a quake in that area could be devastating!”

“You’re right, Dad,” the young inventor replied.  “I’ll call Dr. Miles and Bernt Ahlgren at once!”

The telephone conversation that followed was grim with tension.  Both government men begged Tom to take personal charge of the quake-deflection measures.  Dr. Miles pointed out that tremors along the fault might trigger off a chain of quakes amounting to a national disaster.

After a hasty discussion, Tom agreed that he should station himself at the Colorado site, rather than at the West Coast Quakelizor installation.  This would give him broader scope for damping out shock waves across the continent.

“I’ll fly out immediately!” the young inventor promised.

Ahlgren, meanwhile, would flash orders to the Bona Fide Company and to civilian officials to have the entire area evacuated as soon as possible.

Hasty preparations were made for Tom’s departure.  He telephoned the airfield to have a jet plane with lifters readied for take-off.  He also had Bud paged over the plant intercom.  The copilot came on the run.  When he heard the news, he was eager to accompany his pal.

“Listen, you two!  I insist you have something to eat before you leave!” Sandy declared.

Tom was impatient over any delay.  When Sandy proceeded to call Chow, the old Texan solved the problem by volunteering to go along as cook.

A short time later Chow came jouncing out to the airfield astride a motor scooter, hauling a cart loaded with supplies.

“Good grief!” Tom said, unable to suppress a grin.  “We’ll be back tomorrow, unless something goes wrong!”

“Bring food—­that’s my motto,” Chow retorted, “like any good cook.”

Minutes later, after a parting handshake from his father and a worried kiss from Sandy, Tom sent the sleek jet racing down the runway for take-off.  Soon they were air-borne and heading westward.  Chow served a tasty meal en route.

It was still daylight when the jet landed vertically in the Colorado canyon.  The government crew manning the installation, and the Swift technician who had relieved Art Wiltessa as trouble shooter on the setup, greeted them eagerly.

“Looks as if we’re in for a real test, Tom,” said Mike Burrows, the engineer in charge.

“Let’s hope we pass!” said Tom, holding up crossed fingers.

He checked every detail of the Quakelizor, power plant, and the communications gear.  He opened an inspection panel in each of the dual-control spheres and tuned the kinetic-hydraulic units so as to step up the working pressure of the four powerful drivers.

“Well, all we can do now is wait,” the young inventor muttered, wiping his arm across his forehead.

Tom passed the night in a fitful sleep, half expecting to be wakened at any moment by the stand-by crew on watch.  No alarm occurred, however.

Dawn broke, and Chow delighted all hands with a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and corn fritters.  More hours of waiting dragged by.

“What time do you think the attack will occur?” Bud asked.

Tom shrugged.  “The ‘twenty-four-hour’ business may have been approximate.  But I’d say from two o’clock on is the danger period.”

The young inventor checked frequently with Washington and the other crews stationed around the country.  Suddenly the radiotelephone operator gave a yell.

“Your father is on the line, skipper!”

The scientist was calling from the receiver-computer headquarters at Enterprises.  “Exman has reported a quake pulse will be sent in seven minutes—­at 21.36 G.M.T.”

“I’m ready, Dad,” Tom said, then asked for various technical details before hanging up.

He passed the word to the crew and glanced at his watch.  A hasty, last-moment inspection was carried out, every man checking certain details of the setup.

Soon the pulsemakers began ticking inside the dual-control spheres as they picked up the frequency signal by radio.  Tom studied the gauge dials.

Tension mounted rapidly among the waiting group.  The same thought was throbbing through every mind: 

Was the nation on the brink of a terrible disaster?  Or would Tom Swift’s invention safeguard the threatened area?

As the deadline approached, Tom pushed a button.  The mighty hydraulic drivers throbbed into action, sending out their pulse waves across the continent!