Tom Swift and His Polar-Ray Dynasphere (14 page)

Bashalli smiled slightly. "I must say, a nicer system than what they gave me in my cellar."

"We Vishnapuri are a nicer people," smiled Prince Vusungira.

They returned to the main boulevard. Suddenly Tom felt a nudge. "Across the street," muttered Harlan Ames. He indicated a young, dark-skinned man in western garb who carried a large, flat leather case beneath his arm.

Bud looked too. "Hey now! Whattaya know, Hugh Mortlake!"

"He told us he’d be here," noted Tom. "Let’s say hello."

Ames held back. "You two go. Too many might make him—more cautious than we’d like."

"But make sure to tell him he can come visit us in the—ahem!—sacred royal palace!" Sandy called out.

Tom and Bud caught Mortlake’s eye as they approached. "Well! Our paths cross!" He added dryly: "Need any rescuing today?"

"Did you bring your rocks?" asked Tom with a smile.

"I have a couple on me at all times."

Mortlake invited the boys to join him in a nearby coffee-cafe, outpost of a familiar franchise. "Even in the Himalayas!"

"Yeah. I hear they’re putting one in on top of Mount Everest," Bud joked.

As they chatted over cups that steamed thickly in the cold, dry air, Tom mentioned Sandy’s invitation. "By coincidence, I was visiting the palace just this morning," responded Mortlake.

Tom tried to keep his voice even. "Oh really? A shame we didn’t run into you."

"A shame. They said you were all out touring the city."

"Got business with the royals, Hugh?" challenged Bud in blunt tones. His gray eyes flicked toward Mortlake’s leather portfolio case.

The man’s smile seemed to turn cool. "Oh, just visiting an acquaintance. It’s expected. You see, Bud,
courtesy
is important here in Vishnapur."

"I don’t doubt it."

After some talk and more than a few exchanges of veiled glances, Tom offered, "Let me buy you something at the counter, Hugh—my pleasure." As the two walked to the counter, Tom maintained a constant flow of conversation.

When they walked back into the street and parted company, Tom repeated the invitation for Mortlake to join them at the palace some time during the rest of the trip, and the man accepted politely.

"How shall we reach you?" inquired the young inventor.

"Good question," was the reply. "I’m afraid the cell service in Chullagar is pretty spotty, and I’ve decided to change hotels. I’ll call you in a couple days."

After Mortlake had sauntered off on his way, the young inventor turned to his pal with inquiring eyebrows.

"Invasion of privacy? Not for Tom Swift!" Bud declared jokingly. "But Barclay has no scruples."

"What’s he got in that case?"

Now Bud turned serious. "Skipper, I’m sure he’s up to no good—maybe even real
bad
! What he’s got inside are big flip-page notebooks full of drawings!"

"Artistic stuff?"

"Not to my eyes," Bud snorted. "It’s sketches, real detailed—of things like buildings and machinery. That factory we toured is in there. I also saw tanks, artillery, aircraft, and what looked like a military base with guards in the uniforms of the Gen. Utrong’j crowd! Also hand-drawn maps."

"We’ll have to tell Harlan," responded Tom. "It just might be that Mortlake is collecting information that could be of use to subversives, the way spies use secret photos. And the fact that he admits to being at the palace this morning ties him to the theft of the cassette."

His friend grinned. "That thought
had
crossed my mind."

The busy day concluded with a quiet, casual dinner, which both princes attended, and a late-night report to Harlan Ames. "Good info," he pronounced. "It’s clear something’s going on with Mr. Mortlake."

"What do you think about this Gen. Utrong’j, Harlan?" Tom asked.

The security chief shrugged. "He’s pleasant enough. Very professional. The sort of person who’s hard to read; but I’ve
heard
security guys like to play things close to the vest. Anyway—we’ll see, hmm?"

The next day Sandy and Bashalli were invited to accompany the
Nej’hli
, Queen Aju, to several public functions that showed the guests how the women of Vishnapur participated in the Festival of Chogyal. Chow and Ames joined the Enterprises employees for some shopping and sightseeing. Thinking of the poison lake problem as well as the space-lightning mystery, Tom proposed to Prince Jahan that he take a sightseeing flight with him and Bud over Vishnapur in the
Sky Queen
.

Jahan was delighted. "It could hardly take very long—you can almost take in the whole country in a single glance—but I’d love to experience your famous jet-ship. As you know, I have made a hobby of flying. Though our skies are awfully small, eh?"

The sleek silver craft jet-lifted off from the airfield and headed northward, the rising terrain forcing them into a constant stairstep climb. Tom and Bud were amazed at the gorgeous variety of the scenery in tiny Vishnapur. Rice-terraced slopes rose upward from valleys strewn with lush mountain forests. At higher levels, the slopes flattened into bleak plateaus, slashed by breath-taking gorges. Here and there could be seen a lonely hilltop lamasery or a mud-walled mountain village. Straggles of amazed Vishnapurians could be seen pointing skyward in disbelief. "They probably think we are Rempbol, the watchful
devi
of the skies, who pushes the Moon," commented the prince.

Bud chuckled. "We paid him a visit a while back."

In the distance ghostly, snow-capped peaks soared against the deep sky. Jahan pointed to the most majestic, murmuring, "That is Chogyal."

Veering toward the mountain, they presently passed over a broad, treeless valley, the largest they had yet seen in Vishnapur. In the midst of the valley floor, almost covering it completely, lay a lake. It had the look of a slate, somber but flecked with the distinctive blue of the yorb algae. A line of moving specks indicated a train of pack mules, but otherwise there was no sign of human life or habitation beyond some farms that appeared weed-strewn and abandoned.

Tom was struck by the stark loneliness of the scene. "So that’s it. Boy,
there’s
a grim-looking spot!"

"Grim indeed, my friend—the poisoned gift of Chogyal," said Jahan. "It is the Lake of Krei’i Bu, where they say Shankaru lies hidden in sleep."

"I’d like to take a closer look," Tom said. "I see a spot where we can set down."

As the Prince nodded, Bud asked, "Um—the poison won’t be a problem, will it, Jahan?"

"You’ll smell it, but in the air the chemical isn’t concentrated enough to do harm."

"And nobody knows what it is?"

"The scientists say it’s a variant of the normal exudations from the yorb algae, perhaps the result of some kind of underwater fermentation."

Bud laughed. "Good night, a lake of beer!"

Tom was curious to know more. Landing near the lakeshore, he scooped up a sample of the murky water in a bottle. Using a Swift Spectroscope and a gas chromatograph, he analyzed it aboard the Flying Lab. The test showed an organic substance containing chlorine, carbon, and nitrogen, as well as some unfamiliar compounds that he assumed were associated with the algae. "But it’s definitely from organic sources, Your Highness, rather than minerals in the soil," he told Prince Jahan.

Jahan shrugged. "I don’t know whether that news is good or bad."

They went back outside. By now, the pack caravan with its tinkling bells was approaching the
Sky Queen
. The native mule drivers, awed by the huge plane, halted to chat with Tom’s party.

One, who managed some sparse English, said: "We see now that this is an airplane. At first we wondered if
gur’tu’laksma
had risen early."

"Who’s that?" Bud asked.

"He is saying
cloud fire demon
," explained Jahan. "I don’t know what he means, though."

"The word is still ‘caught in Chogyal’s ear’ and has not reached the city," said the muleteer. "It is all recent, just weeks. Some nights we see fire in the high clouds, even sometimes in the mists of early day, between the peaks." He pointed northeast. "That way."

"The border is that way, very close," Jahan said thoughtfully. As the muleteer proceeded with his account, it developed that the sky-fire usually took the form of a circular phosphorescence in the clouds, often marked by flashes. "What do you think could cause a weather phenomenon like that, Tom?" the Prince inquired.

"I don’t know," Tom answered. Then he flashed Bud a meaningful look. "It sounds like some strange kind of
lightning
!"

JAHAN looked surprised. "Lightning? Perhaps the very lightning you― "

"Could be," stated Tom.

"What’s up there around the mountain, Jahan?" Bud asked. "A secret military installation, maybe? To watch the border?"

The Prince smiled. "No. Nor hidden caverns or camouflaged laboratories, so far as I know. One thing only—I’ll show you from the air."

Bidding the muleteer goodbye, they reentered the Flying Lab and lifted off. As they swerved low about the peak of Chogyal, Prince Jahan pointed. "There. Does it look ominous?"

Below them, half-carved directly into mountain rock, was a weathered structure of arches and ancient statues in bas-relief. "A lamasery?" Tom asked.

"Yes, the lamasery of Mahachogyal, dating from the year 1291. It has been studied very thoroughly by archaeologists and historians. Still in use. No mad scientists, though."

"Any Mocking Buddhas?" joked Tom.

"If so, the archaeologists have overlooked them."

After a long look, the young inventor continued, "I don’t see any signs of high-tech equipment. And actually, the mule driver was pointing in a somewhat different direction."

"Yes," Jahan agreed. "He seemed to be indicating peaks across the border. Perhaps our large and oversensitive brother China is behind these phenomena."

The
Sky Queen
returned to the Chullagar airfield, and the three motored back to the palace. As their limousine passed through the great gate into the courtyard-park, Prince Jahan called their attention to the mahouts washing the royal elephants, six of them, outside the mansion-sized stables. Bud and Tom chortled. Chow was helping them!

"He must have taken a shine to one of the elephants," Tom said with a chuckle as they pulled to a stop.

The Texan was whistling happily as he sloshed water over the huge beast’s wrinkled gray hide. "Hi, folks!" Chow called. "Figgered an ole Texas wrangler like me oughtta get acquainted with the ridin’ stock around here. Met this’n the other day."

Tom grinned. "The elephant certainly looks as if he’s enjoying that bath. You two seem to be pretty good friends."

"Yup, we sorta understand each other—got me a nice gentlin’ way with ani-mules, remember. Only it’s a she. Her name’s Chini, meanin’ ‘Sugar."’ Chow added, "She’s got false teeth."

"False teeth! Are you serious?" asked Bud.

"Sure. Bein’ a lady, her tusks don’t grow very big, so they fit her up with wooden ones." Chow tugged at one white-painted tusk to show how it came loose. "See? Jest like my ol’ Uncle Earlie has. Fer parades, they even gold-up her toenails."

"Same with your uncle?" Bud inquired innocently.

"Heh. An’ you know what, boys? These critters are ticklish!"

Tom looked affectionately skeptical. "With those thick hides?"

"Honest Injun—I’ll show you." Chow ran his fingers softly over the elephant’s flank.

A mahout bringing a fresh bucket of water exclaimed, "Stop, Sahib!—it is dangerous!"

The warning came two late! Chini reared skittishly and trumpeted. Then the beast plunged its trunk into the bucket of water and arched its trunk menacingly. "Chow’s gonna get it now!" Bud warned with a laugh.

Then the elephant sprayed Bud from head to foot! The young pilot stood spluttering and dripping while his audience shook with laughter.

"Brand my poncho," Chow mumbled gleefully, "Guess m’ little lady knows enough t’ treat her boyfriend right!"

He stepped toward his little lady to give a pat of appreciation—and slipped with a
whoop
!, plopping down in the water puddle she had just made with a mighty splash. The laughter became universal, the drenched cowpoke included.

That evening Tom found out, via PER, the amazing test his father had arranged for the now-completed
Dyna Ranger
. "Good night!" Tom laughed. "This’ll sure give George Dilling some headlines about Enterprises!"

Mr. Swift laughed as well. "It occurred to me when I read developments in the newspaper. What could be a better test for your ‘satellite catcher’s mit’? The Smithsonian is thrilled, obviously."

The conversation was expanded to include Hank Sterling and others, and the details took shape. The new spacecraft had already passed its initial flight tests, Hank having taken her on a suborbital space jaunt in which the new dynasphere had been given a successful wring-out. It was determined that Hank would fly the
Dyna
to Vishnapur
immediately
, with veteran Enterprises astronaut Neil MacColter as copilot. "But don’t forget, with this baby immediately means hours, not minutes," the engineer reminded Tom. "It takes a long time just to clear the atmosphere!"

Clicking off, Tom excitedly scouted up Bud to tell him the news. "You’re not kidding?
Jetz
!" the black-haired youth enthused. "I knew it was dying up there, but I didn’t think anybody wanted to bring ’er back down!"

"It didn’t seem possible," Tom explained. "But the dynasphere makes it possible, and the Smithsonian would sure love to put it on display."

The test target was to be the world’s most famous unmanned satellite, the Hubble Space Telescope! NASA and the consortium managing it, called AURA, had announced that its recently completed repair mission would be the last one. In a low orbit, its aiming gyros no long functioning, the mighty instrument was doomed to a decaying orbit that brushed Earth’s atmosphere. It would eventually plunge to fiery death—but as with the Kronus, there was a strong likelihood that parts of it would survive to pose a danger to ground-dwellers. "This will be a real dress-rehearsal for the Kronus rescue," Tom pointed out happily.