Tom Swift Jr - And His Space Solartron Part 7

Arv shrugged. "Oh, he's taking the training program. Spends time in every department. He'd like to be a big shot, but I doubt if he'll make the grade."

"How come?"

"Too much of a talker. Smart enough but lets everybody know it."

Two days later, after making preparations for the trip to the s.p.a.ce outpost, Tom, Bud, Ted, and Mr. Swift flew to Fearing Island for the takeoff. The other pa.s.sengers for the trip included Sandy, Phyl, Chow Winkler, and Doc Simpson.

Fearing Island, the Swifts' rocket research base, was a thumb-shaped stretch of sand dunes and scrubgra.s.s. It lay not far off the Atlantic coast and was guarded by drone planes and radar.

From the island airfield, the travelers drove to the special launching area for the Challenger. Here the great silver s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, already checked and loaded for flight, stood glistening in the morning suns.h.i.+ne.

"Just think," murmured Phyl, gazing in awe at 66 .

the powerful craft, "the Challenger has actually been to the moon!"

Bud added proudly, "She may not look very streamlined, but this baby can travel like a comet!"

The huge boxlike cabin, poised on four hydraulic landing struts, was encircled by a framework of slender rails for the swiveling radiator antennas which beamed out the repelatron force rays.

Although the s.h.i.+p had auxiliary rockets for emergency maneuvering, its main motive power was the repelatron drive. This drive system could be used to propel the s.h.i.+p in any direction by exerting a repulsion force against the earth, moon, or any heavenly object.

"All aboard!" Tom called, after a last-minute check with the mechanics and ground crew.

One by one, pa.s.sengers and crew trooped up the accommodation ladder to the landing platform which projected from the front of the cabin. The landing platform was used for small auxiliary craft which could be berthed in the s.h.i.+p's hangar compartment.

Entering through an air lock, the s.p.a.ce voyagers zoomed upward by elevator to the flight deck. Here a pair of bucket seats for the pilot and copilot stood in front of twin quartz-gla.s.s view windows. There were also seats for pa.s.sengers and observers.

"Jeepers!" Sandy gasped. "Just looking at all those dials and control levers gives me a thrill.

s.p.a.cE OUTPOST 67.

Tom, do you think I can learn to fly this s.h.i.+p?"

"Sure you can, Sis." Torn grinned. "No work at all. Actually, the real work of flight control is done by electronic brains in the computer room."

"I'm glad we don't have to be strapped down on acceleration cots," Phyl remarked. "That's what scares me about rocket s.h.i.+ps-the awful shock at blast- off."

"On this s.h.i.+p you can relax in perfect ease," Tom a.s.sured her. "The repelatron force rays apply a smooth flow of power so we can accelerate gradually, instead of in a few terrific bursts."

A warning buzzer sounded, and everyone took his seat. The voice of George Billing, radio chief at Fearing, crackled over the speaker: "All clear, skipper. Have a good trip!"

"Thanks, George," Tom replied. "Hold down the island!"

Outside, through the quartz-gla.s.s window, the ground crew chief gave the signal for take-off. Tom switched on the repelatron circuits, and a number of colored lights flashed on the element selector panel above the view panes.

"Watch those lights, Sis," Tom told Sandy. "They indicate the chemical make- up of the object we have to repel-in this case, the ground just below us. The repelatron circuits must respond to the exact radiation frequency of each element present."

As he spoke, Tom's hands flew busily over the controls. "What I'm doing now," he added, "is a sort of fine-tuning job to make sure we're adjusted 68 .

not only for the right elements, but the right isotope of each element."

With the proper controls adjusted, Tom swiv-eled the radiator antennas into position for ground thrust and fed power to the repelatrons. Like a silver asteroid, the Challenger soared upward into the blue!

"This is known as a bouncing-ball take-off," Bud wisecracked to the girls.

"Seriously, that's just about what happens," Tom added. "The repelatron force rays push us away from the earth-or whatever object we aim at-just like a ball on the rebound."

As the earth fell away below them, the pa.s.sengers crowded to the view windows. Fearing Island was a mere speck on the blue-green waters of the ocean. Through the low-lying blankets of mist, every detail of the Atlantic coast line was revealed.

"Tom, it's amazing to think how far science has progressed," said Mr. Swift gravely. "Not so long ago, people laughed at the possibility of s.p.a.ce flight, and who knows what marvels lie ahead!"

Soon the roundness of the earth began to show in the curvature of the horizon. Off to the east, the travelers could make out the sh.o.r.e lines of Europe.

"An angel's-eye view!" murmured Phyl.

With the earth left well behind, Tom set a steady course for the s.p.a.ce station, then lounged back in his pilot's seat. "Look! No hands!" He chuckled.

s.p.a.cE OUTPOST 69.

"Why, it's flying itself!" Sandy exclaimed. "Tom, this s.h.i.+p's a dream!"

"Shucks, you ain't seen nothin'!" Chow bragged. "Jest wait'll you see how I scoot around up here in my li'l ole jet-propelled s.p.a.ce suit!"

"Why bother with a s.p.a.ce suit!" Bud needled him. "We've been expecting you to take off in that s.h.i.+rt you're wearing!"

Chow preened himself proudly as the others stifled their amus.e.m.e.nt. His latest cowboy s.h.i.+rt was patterned with a wild galaxy of stars and planets. "I designed this here number myself, buckaroo. You couldn't buy another one like it fer love or money!"

"That I can believe," Bud muttered.

As they cruised silently upward beyond the earth's atmosphere, Tom checked out Sandy and Ted on the Challenger's controls.

"What's this on your left?" asked Ted, pointing to a large fluorescent screen.

"Our s.p.a.ce position finder," Tom explained. He flicked a switch. As the screen lighted up, a large curved reddish area appeared with a small white dot close by. "The red area represents the earth, and the white dot is the s.p.a.ce station. Farther out in s.p.a.ce, the scope would pick up other objects in the solar system."

Tom also showed them a large control board which projected out on the right-hand side of the flight compartment. Its various dials were labeled for earth, moon, sun, Mars, Venus, and other heavenly bodies.

70 .

"The dials are fed by tapes from our electronic computers," Tom explained.

"They tell us the distance and angle of each body from our s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, and how much force we need to repel them for any desired acceleration."

"Skipper, if I needed anything to prove you're a young genius, this is it," Ted said, wide-eyed with amazement.

"Take a bow, pal!" Bud grinned at Tom.

Soon the outpost in s.p.a.ce loomed into view. Ted and the girls, who had never before visited the s.p.a.ce station, gasped at the breath-taking spectacle.

The gigantic, silver-colored, wheel-shaped satellite, although seemingly motionless, spun in its...o...b..t at 6,888 miles per hour. Antennas, polished reflectors, and a latticework telescope poked out from the twelve-spoked wheel.

"Each spoke is a separate unit," Tom explained to Ted. "Some are designed for crew's quarters or laboratories, one is an astronomical observatory, and others are a.s.sembly lines for charging solar batteries. Those polished reflectors are to focus the sunlight in on-"

Bud suddenly interrupted. "Skipper! The re-pelatron beamed at the earth won't turn off!"

Tom checked the controls hastily. He flicked several levers and switches without result.

"Something wrong, son?" asked Mr. Swift, stepping forward quietly.

"I can't decrease the earth force, Dad."

By this time, the s.h.i.+p appeared to be rus.h.i.+ng s.p.a.cE OUTPOST 71.

toward the s.p.a.ce wheel at terrifying speed. In a matter of moments, they would cras.h.!.+

"Gallopin' hoot owls!" Chow gulped, turning pale. "Can't you back up this here flyin' buck-board nohow?"

"Not exactly, but you've got the right idea, Chow," Tom gritted as his strong fingers moved rapidly over the control panel. "I'll aim the other repelatrons at the s.p.a.ce wheel and try to avoid a crash," Tom said.

The pa.s.sengers watched tensely as the s.h.i.+p gradually slowed into stable orbit close to the s.p.a.ce station-its earth thrust neutralized by the forward repulsion rays.

"Quick thinking, Tom!" Mr. Swift congratulated his son.

"B-but how do we get over to the s.p.a.ce station?" asked Phyl nervously.

"This is where Chow does that Daring-Young-Man-on-the-Jet-Propelled- Trapeze act he was telling you about." Bud grinned. "Into your s.p.a.ce suits, me hearties!"

Normally the s.h.i.+p would have been locked to the s.p.a.ce wheel by magnetic grapples, so that its pa.s.sengers could step directly into the station's air lock.

Now, however, the transfer would have to be made through the s.p.a.ce void.

While rocket-propelled mooring cables were shot across to the station, everyone except Tom and Mr. Swift donned their s.p.a.ce suits, boots, and helmets. One by one, they went out through the s.h.i.+p's air lock.

72 .

To allay the girls' nervousness, Bud went first to guide them across.

"Oh, boy! It's like stepping out into nothingness!" Phyl quavered over her suit radio.

Bud said rea.s.suringly, "Just hang onto this cable at all times, and work your way across hand over hand. If that's too slow, you can trigger the jet pistol on your suit."

"No thanks. We'll do it the hard way," Sandy joked.

Chow, who was last, suddenly found he could not budge from the s.h.i.+p.

"Help! I'm stuck!" he yelped. "The force ray's got me!"

Hearing Chow's cry over his suit radio, Bud looked back. He was aghast to see that a leg of the Texan's pants was caught in the air lock. The copilot instantly realized that if Chow tried to wrench himself loose, the material might rip. Immediate depressurization would follow, then death!

"Chow! Your suit's caught. Don't move a muscle!" Bud hastily warned him, then radioed Tom to release the door mechanism.

It opened and Chow gingerly pulled himself free. "Buddy boy," he said, "you're a real friend. Closer'n a thistle burr. Thanks."

Soon, he, as well as the girls and the crew, were safely inside the station.

Then Bud returned to help Tom and Mr. Swift, who were busy below decks in the compartment which housed the re-pelatron gear.

74 .

"Found the trouble yet?" Bud asked.

"It's the homing device that locks the main radiator on target," Tom replied, brus.h.i.+ng the sweat from his eyes. "Somehow the circuit's jammed, so that it keeps feeding power and won't respond to the directional signal."

For a while the two scientists feared that it might be necessary to disconnect the homing device completely and resort to manual control. But at last, after several hours of work, Tom managed to correct the difficulty.

When father and son finally entered the s.p.a.ce station, they were greeted by Ken Horton, commander of the outpost, a slender man of about thirty, with dark, close-cropped hair.

"Welcome, strangers!" he greeted them, shaking hands with the Swifts.

"Tom, I'm eager to hear about this matter-making machine of yours."

A former Signal Corps officer, Horton had become the Swifts' first s.p.a.ce trainee and had helped to build the station.

"The machine's still experimental, Ken," Tom replied. "I'm hoping to perfect it up here."

At that moment Bud nudged Tom and pointed to Ted Spring with a worried look. The young cadet was slumped on a bench in a hopeless, dejected att.i.tude.

Tom felt a pang of fear. Had Ted succ.u.mbed to the dreaded "s.p.a.ce sickness" which often struck new recruits on their first trip into the void?

CHAPTER IX.

BLACKOUT!.

STEPPING over to the young cadet, Tom laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Feel all right, Ted?" he asked.

Ted looked up, forcing a smile. "Sure, skipper. I-I'm just a bit worried about my folks, that's all. Haven't heard a word from them since they left Shopton."

"We'll check right now," Tom promised. "Come with me."