Tom Swift Jr - And His Space Solartron Part 9

CHAPTER X.

LARIAT LIFELINE.

TOM was startled. "Did you report the damaged plates to Harlan Ames?"

"Sure," Arv replied. "Security got on the job right away. They dusted the cracked plates for fingerprints, but there were none. Evidently the plates had been knocked off a shelf. They were badly scratched and marred. Security also looked for fingerprints in the whole working area, but all they found were mine and those of the other fellows a.s.sisting me on the job."

"Then there are no clues?" Tom asked.

Arv hesitated. "Well, Amby Lintner suggested one possible explanation."

"Lintner?" Tom was surprised. "He's not working on this project, is he?"

"No, but he pointed out that Bob Dowell had brought his dog into the photographic lab the day it happened. Bob wanted to use him as a subject for some high-speed camera experiments,

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Amby said the dog may have broken loose and knocked the plates down."

"What do you think?" Tom asked.

Arv Hanson shrugged. "Bob says the dog was never out of his sight and that Amby's just trying to make himself look smart. I suppose it could have happened, though."

Tom frowned thoughtfully, remembering the mysterious eavesdropper who had knocked over the bottles in his office. Could it be that the same person was responsible for both accidents?

"Oh, well," he decided finally, "we can't let the accident stop us. Get busy on some new plates, will you, Arv?"

"We're already working on them, Tom," Hanson reported. "We'll rush the job through as fast as we can, but it'll probably be a couple of days before the sheets are ready."

"Okay, do the best you can."

At lunchtime in the company cafeteria, Tom related the incident to Bud.

"Does that mean your work is stalled until the energy collectors are ready?"

Bud asked.

Tom shook his head as he spooned up the last of his oyster stew. "No, I'll go back up to the outpost and finish work on my second machine. I believe I can rig up a temporary power device. Want to come along?"

"Try to leave me behind!"

By midafternoon, the castings and other parts which Tom had requested by radio were finished. These were loaded aboard a cargo jet which Tom LARIAT LIFELINE 87.

piloted to Fearing Island. From here, he and Bud blasted off in the Challenger for the return trip to the s.p.a.ce station. They reached it on schedule.

After a few hours' rest, Tom plunged into work on the second model of his s.p.a.ce solartron. In three hours it was a.s.sembled and ready for testing. The huge machine took up most of the available room in Tom's s.p.a.ce laboratory, and the dial-studded control panel stood head-high to the two boys.

"Wow! What a monster!" Bud gasped. "You figure this will make other elements besides oxygen?"

"It should if I've designed it properly," said Tom. "See those push b.u.t.tons marked Element Control and Isotope Control?"

Bud nodded. "What are they for?"

"By altering the velocity of the speeded-up particles, these control b.u.t.tons will enable us to select any element-or any isotope of an element -that we want to produce," Tom explained. "Solid matter will be condensed in this receiving tank, after pa.s.sing through the heat exchanger. And gases or liquids can be drawn off through this valve."

Bud scratched his head. "Looks as though it'll take enough power to drive a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p! Have you rigged up that temporary power source you were talking about?"

"That's our next job." Tom pointed to a bale of metal foil which he had brought along with the machine parts. "We'll go outside the station 88 .

and erect this foil in the shape of a huge parabolic reflector. I'll use it to concentrate the sun's rays into a bank of energy-conversion cells just like the ones on the Challenger."

After recruiting the help of Ted Spring and several crewmen, Tom explained the job and ordered his work party to don their s.p.a.ce suits.

Chow Winkler, who was itching for an excuse to join them, slipped into his galley and returned with a coil of rope. "Boss, I ain't practiced ropin' since I left Texas. You reckon mebbe I could go outside an' try throwin' a few loops while you hombres are workin'?"

Tom grinned at the roly-poly cook. "Sure, pardner. Hop into your s.p.a.ce duds!"

One by one, the work party emerged through the station air lock. In spite of the brilliant suns.h.i.+ne which made every object glitter, the s.p.a.ce void was an inky black. It was broken only by the steely twinkle of the distant stars and planets.

Two of the crewmen used jet scooters to haul the heavy bale of foil and other equipment. The other members of the work party propelled themselves around by means of the reaction pistols on their suits.

Chow acted especially frisky. "Brand my cosmic sagebrush, I sure wish I had a bronc to ride up here on this sky range!" he proclaimed over his suit radio.

"Then I'd really show you bucka-roos some fancy ridin'!"

"Maybe I can oblige," Bud signaled back. "I'll tell you where to find a horse in s.p.a.ce!"

LARIAT LIFELINE 89.

"You funnin' me again?" Chow demanded.

"No-on the level, Chow," Bud replied.

"Where kin I find this hoss?"

"A mere nine hundred trillion miles away." Bud chuckled. "He's Pegasus, the Winged Horse constellation."

As Chow glared at the youth through his transparent bubble helmet, Tom explained with a grin, "Bud's talking about a group of stars."

"He'll be seem stars one o' these days if he don't stop pullin' my leg!" the cook snorted.

Under Tom's supervision, the bale of metal foil was unfolded and formed into a dish-shaped reflector by means of a wire framework. This in turn was connected to a small motor which would rotate the foil so that it faced the sun at all times.

"Keep it aimed away until we have everything set up for the test," Tom warned his men.

Next he turned his attention to the job of hooking up the energy-conversion cells. These were installed in position near the hub of the s.p.a.ce wheel, with conductors leading inside to a transformer in Tom's laboratory.

As work progressed, Chow happily twirled his lariat and practiced tossing a loop around a k.n.o.b on the station's hull. At first he found it difficult to control his toss while enc.u.mbered by his bulky s.p.a.ce suit. The lack of gravity also made him misjudge his first throws. But soon the old cowpoke was la.s.soing the target with expert skill.

"Nice going, old-timer!" Bud applauded. "How about giving me a try?"

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"Why sure, Buddy boy," said Chow. He chuckled with satisfaction at this chance to get back at the young copilot. Red-faced, Bud failed again and again to rope the k.n.o.b.

"I reckon that's not bad for a tenderfoot," Chow sympathized. "You jest keep right on prac-ticin' an' mebbe one o' these days you'll get within a dozen yards or so o' that k.n.o.b!"

Ted and the other crewmen roared with laughter at Bud's discomfiture. Soon they too were begging for a chance to toss the lariat.

Meanwhile, Tom had gone inside the station to complete the hookup. Bert Everett, one of the crewmen, continued working on the energy-conversion cells.

Suddenly Bud and the others were startled as a piercing scream came over their transiphones.

"Look! It's Bert!" yelled Ted Spring.

To their horror, the men saw Bert's s.p.a.ce-suited figure writhing in agony! His limbs thrashed wildly, but he seemed unable to move from the spot where he had been working.

Bud did not waste a second in puzzling out the situation. He triggered his jet pistol and darted to aid the helpless crewman. But as he approached the working area, Bud felt a wave of searing heat pa.s.s through his s.p.a.ce suit.

In a flash Bud realized what was causing it! Somehow, the foil reflector had been turned toward the sun. Like a burning gla.s.s, it was concentrating the sun's rays directly on the spot where Bert Everett was trapped! Not only Bert, LARIAT LIFELINE 91.

but anyone who tried to rescue him, would literally be broiled alive!

"Chow! Get Bert out of here with your lariat!" Bud screamed into his suit mike as he veered away from the danger zone.

Chow responded with the cool skill of a cowboy at roundup time. Grabbing the rope from Ted, he coiled it in a twinkling, and swung the loop above his head.

A second later the lariat snaked out through the void and settled around Bert's shoulders. With a yank, Chow dragged the victim to safety!

Cheers rose from the watching crewmen. But they died away in shocked silence after a glimpse at Bert's deathly pale features.

Both Bert and Bud were hustled into the station infirmary. Here their s.p.a.ce suits were stripped off, so that the doctor in charge could treat the scorched victims. Fortunately, Bud was unscathed. Bert Everett had suffered a severe shock from the intense rise in temperature inside his s.p.a.ce suit. Only the Tomasite covering kept him from instant death. He was put to bed immediately.

"What happened?" Ted asked, as he and the other crewmen stood by his side, still stunned by their comrade's accident.

Tom picked up Bert's discarded s.p.a.ce suit and pointed to the jet-pistol attachment in back. "The heat from the reflector fused the jet nozzle so he couldn't fire it," Tom explained. "Without his reaction pistol, he had no way of moving!"

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Bert grinned up at them wanly from his hospital bed. "It was like one of those nightmares Cheers rose from the watching crewmen as Chow la.s.soed Bert and pulled him to safety LARIAT LIFELINE 93.

where you find yourself rooted to the spot," he commented.

"How do you feel?" Tom asked sympathetically.

"A bit dehydrated, but otherwise okay. By the way, Chow"-Bert turned to the elderly Westerner-"thanks for hauling me out. If you hadn't la.s.sooed me, my goose would have been cooked. I mean really cooked!"

"Aw, shucks, 'twarn't nothin'," Chow muttered modestly.

"Oh yes, it was, old-timer," said Tom, putting his arm around Chow's shoulders. "You deserve a medal. And, Bert, if it's any consolation, you've done me quite a service."

"How's that, skipper?" asked Bert.

"Somehow that reflector motor got just enough flow of current to turn it toward the sun. To make sure that doesn't happen again when some- 94 .

one's working on the setup, I plan to install a thermostatic alarm system."

At this point, Bud, who had slipped away a few moments before, walked into the compartment. He was carrying a small wrapped package. "For you, Chow,"

he announced, handing it to the chef. "A small token of my esteem."

Grinning proudly, Chow unwrapped the package. The next moment his grin turned to open-mouthed amazement. Inside lay a small green Texas lizard! Its beady eyes stared up at the old cowpoke as its throat pouch slowly pulsed in and out.

"Great b.a.l.l.s o' fire!" For a moment Chow could scarcely believe his eyes, then he turned to Tom. "Brand my prairie cactus, boss, did you make this here critter with that machine o' yours?"

CHAPTER XI.

A STARTLING DISAPPEARANCE.

"NOT guilty, pardner!" Tom grinned.