Tom Swift and His Repelatron Skyway (16 page)

The work crews had now merged into one camp, and that night it was a scene of celebration that lasted late into the starry, steamy night under the high ribbon of skyway. But finally the many weary workers and technicians went off to their tents.

Bud yawned mightily—and also wiped away a stream of perspiration. "Good night, somebody turn down the thermostat!" he complained to Tom. "If I plan to get any shut-eye in this heat, I’d better dress for it—in mosquito netting!"

Tom gave his pal a supercilious grin. "Heat? What heat? And I’m wearing a leather jacket!"

"Yeah, chum, you’re wearing your own
personal
thermostat!" grumped Bud humorously. "I’ll wrestle you for that darn CoolJack of yours."

Sometime in the middle of the dark, Bud awakened. Looking to the side, he found that Tom was no longer in their shared tent—and he could hear excited voices that suddenly became shouts of fear!

What the heck’s goin’ on?
he murmured mentally, trying to cast sleep aside and stagger to his feet.
And what’s that noise? Thunder?

It sounded all too much like roaring!

Bud darted through the tent flap and froze. What he saw jolted him like an electric shock.

Monsters of nightmarish size were surging forward out of the darkness, plunging among the tents and scattering the groggy workers!

T-rexes on the rampage—destroying the camp!

"BUD! Run for it!" yelled Tom, sprinting by. Seeing that his pal was standing frozen to the spot, staring upward in disbelief, Tom ran back and grabbed Bud’s arm. "Get moving—they’re all over!"

There was no doubt of that! There were at least a half-dozen of the thick-legged, dagger-toothed reptilians tearing about the camp, hissing, roaring, stumbling over equipment, and sometimes bending low to grab the plastic tents in their ponderous jaws and shake them to shreds like a terrier with its prey. As the workers darted this way and that, the security men were unloading their rifles at the marauders—but to unnervingly little effect. The creatures seemed to merely shrug off the spray of bullets.

"Tom!" called out Ted Spring, "Hank and I’ll fetch the electric rifles!"

"Me too!" came another shrill voice—Akomo.

"I’ll try shooting at them from the― " Tom began, glancing back toward Bud, then stopping. Bud had disappeared!

In fact the dark-haired youth was pounding across the camp as fast as his athletic muscles could drive him, clutching a powerful flashlamp that he had managed to scoop up. "
Can’t let—those big lizards—bring us down—!
" he panted desperately. He was running right into the thick of the stampede!

Bud darted between two of the saurians, hoping that they would choose not to butt heads in trying to snag the tiny thing scrambling between their clumsy feet. They roared in rage, whipping their colossal heads about and turning to pursue.

At the edge of the camp clearing, where thick jungle began, Bud paused and whirled about. He switched on the flashlamp and swept the beam back and forth across two pair of beady, gleaming eyes. Further enraged, the Rexes clomped forward and their prey plunged into the trees and shadows.

It was a nightmarish run through dark and darker-dark. The ground shook, and the thunder behind him swelled to many voices as the first two dinosaurs drew the others away from the camp—and toward Bud Barclay!

The trunk of a great palm suddenly whammed into the ground not ten feet away from the panting youth. Jumping frantically, whirling as he jumped, Bud saw a gargantuan face roaring downward through the treetops. He stumbled back from the blast of its wet, hot breath!

And then—

The T-rex rose into the sky like a hot-air balloon!

Bud gaped and boggled. "Wh-what in the—how― " And then he saw several deep creases encircling the giant’s body, and the glint of metal ribbons. Heaving and struggling violently, the colossus was being dragged into the air by the Workchopper like a fish. Tom had snagged it with the helicraft’s extension arms!

Tom’s voice resounded from the Workchopper’s exterior speakers. "
Bud, run off through the jungle to your right! When I come back over, flash your light my way!
"

The young inventor’s plan was to use the captive saurian as bait to draw the others away from the camp and back into the deep jungle, hoping they would give up the assault and head for home—wherever that might be. Tom released the dinosaur, and quickly realized that his strategy was working. He could make out six enormous backs pushing though the trees toward a more remote part of the great swamp.

Tom didn’t track them, but turned sharply about. He picked up Bud from the small clearing where he had found refuge. "Bud!—that was stupid, reckless, and― "

"And—?"

"Fantastically brave."

"As usual."

"As usual."

Gazing down through the curving cockpit dome, Bud exclaimed suddenly: "Hey, there’s something down there between the trees—a light!"

Tom saw it. "Flickering. But it looks too small to be a campfire... " He pressed a button to record the position coordinates. "We’ll take a look at it first thing tomorrow. Right now I want to see to the camp and the workers."

With the silencing of the thunder, the workers had begun to filter back to the camp. "Better than I might have thought," muttered Mr. Kiuma. "They hardly act like― "

"Listen to me, Mr. Kiuma," Tom interrupted sharply. "I don’t care what you think. That’s your business. But I don’t want to hear
one more word
from you about the Ulsusus. If you can’t respect them as members of this project—get your things together and I’ll fly you back to Huttangdala!"

Kiuma glared at the American. Then, with a surly nod, he turned and stalked away.

The next morning Tom and his companions were examining what had been found in the jungle, suspended over a small, banked "hearth" that had burned itself out during the night.

"Jest what is it, boss? A fancy stewpot?" Chow asked.

Hank answered for Tom. "Yeah, but it’s a stew you wouldn’t want to eat! This canister contains some kind of chemical combo."

"It reacts to heat," continued Tom. "For most of the night it must have been giving off a stream of vapor."

"Why?" Ted Spring mused. "Poison gas?"

The young inventor shook his head. "No, I think it’s a
scent
that the Rexes are drawn to. They get frantic for it, and follow the trace upwind—and our camp was right in the way!"

Chow nodded with understanding. "Shor enough—
dinosaur catnip!
"

"This just can’t go on, genius boy," Bud grated with angry resolve. "The damage wasn’t too bad this time, but next time—! Tom, we’ve got to take the fight to the enemy."

"Yes. I agree. It’s time."

"I agree also!" declared Akomo excitedly. "I will lead the way!"

Tom smiled but his voice admitted no arguments. "No, Ako. You’re staying right here. Help Hank and Ted and Chow protect the camp. Okay?"

"Okay, sir-sir. I will do it brilliantly."

After studying the chemistry of the canister, Tom laid out an idea that had come to him. "We’ll set the canister away from the camp, but in the general direction the saurians seemed to be headed. Then, when the wind’s right, we’ll apply heat to generate the scent-vapor."

"Which’ll bring the Rexes running, hmm? But look," Bud objected, "how’ll we be able to make out the trail they leave through that thick canopy of trees? Or do you plan backtracking on foot?"

"No—from the air, in the Workchopper. You see, as soon as we catch sight of one of them, I’ll switch off the canister heat by remote control. As the smell dissipates, I’m betting the dino will lose interest and turn back toward home. It shouldn’t be too difficult to follow him with the motion-sensing radar."

By mid-afternoon the trap had been set, and—after a tense wait—sprung. "Here comes one of them!" Bud cried out, sitting next to Tom in the hovering copter. "I see his head between the treetops!"

"Okay. Switching off the canister."

They waited as the breeze scattered the plume of vapor. The Tyrannosaur slowed, hesitated, and seemed to wander aimlessly for a time. Then, to the youths’ excited delight, he put about and began to lumber back toward the swamp!

The Workchopper followed, minute by minute. But suddenly there were no more glimpses, no moving splotch on the radar. The creature had vanished. "What’s going on?" breathed Bud.

"The dinosaur pen must be under a roof, or some kind of camouflage netting," Tom speculated. "Like it or not, I think we’ll need to land and try to pick up the trail on foot after all."

Bud gulped. "Long as you’re not planning on any hand-to-hand combat, Skipper!"

The trail was obvious at ground level. Among ripped branches there were gouges and huge footprints all about them, most full of water but still distinctive. Soon they made out a cage-like high wall of stripped tree trunks standing upright, camouflage draped overhead.

"A stockade," whispered Tom. "Good night, the whole thing must be a block square!"

"Uh-huh—with plenty of head room."

Awe defeated caution. Tom and Bud approached the wall. The trunks were set widely enough apart that they could step right through the gap. The shadows were deep, but the moist gloom was full of hissing and scuffling—and smell. The youths could make out huge dark shapes on the further side of the great pen-yard, dragging about stuporously.

Near them was a structure meant for human use, light in the windows. They could hear the faint whine of a generator. Concealing themselves as much as possible, they edged up to a window and looked in—right into the face of a man!

Except for an impatient frown, the elderly white-haired man barely reacted to the sight of the two intruders. "All right, all right, I see you," he called out. "Come in. Door on your left. Not wise, standing out in the pen with the pets. Gets them stirred up and cranky."

Disconcerted by what seemed a welcome rather than an armed repulse, Tom and Bud entered a big room full of paper-strewn desks, cages, water tanks, and a variety of scientific apparatus. Tom instantly recognized one piece of equipment as an electron microscope.

The man seemed unexpectedly amiable, if rather abrupt in manner. He offered a gnarled hand, and Tom shook it cautiously. "I’m Tom Swift from the U.S., and this is Bud Barclay. Are you Welkin Eldreth?"

The man nodded. "Yes, the monster maker himself. May I say, I admire your restraint."

"Excuse me?"

"You managed to refrain from saying the traditional ‘
Dr. Eldreth, I presume?’
."

He led them to a pair of wooden chairs, but remained standing as he faced them. "So. You found me—that is,
us
. Tracked Gertrude back, did you? She has the wanderlust, I’m afraid. Haven’t quite bred it out of her."

"Bred... " repeated Tom. "Then it’s true."

"Of course it’s true," Eldreth stated. "I breed dinosaurs. You’ve seen them, haven’t you? Let us get these uninteresting questions out of the way."

Bud cleared his throat. "Er—I have a question on another subject. What are you planning to do with us, Doctor?"

"Do? What do you think? I’m planning to make a breakfast of you two—for Gertrude!"

"I DON’T much like that answer," breathed Bud Barclay with wide eyes.

Eldreth shrugged. "Well, young man, you
did
ask."

"You can’t be serious!" exclaimed Tom.

"No, of course I’m not serious!" retorted the scientist scornfully. "I am a recluse and something of a fanatic, I suppose—not a madman."

Tom asked, "Are we prisoners here?"

"Certainly not. Do you see a gun? I’m not
about
to bother with the care and feeding of prisoners whose only crime is a bit of trespassing. Stay if you care to, leave when you’ve grown tired of me and my lectures. Does that relieve your young minds?" Suddenly less cordial, the elderly man stopped short and regarded Tom with piercing eyes. "In any event it appears my secrecy has become futile. You had my name. You know me? You don’t make a habit of wandering about in the jungle peeping into windows?"

"I’ve heard of you!" Tom snapped. "And I’d like an explanation of why you caused our machinery to be wrecked and had ‘Gertrude’ and friends attack our camp!"

Tom’s words stung Eldreth. "Oh come now. You have brought disaster on yourself!" the professor ranted. "By ruining one of your precious antenna towers I warned you not to continue. But you paid no heed. For years I have pursued my experiments peacefully. Your absurd flying highway would have brought people to The V’moda and ruined my life work!"

"Having your big pets go stomping around our camp isn’t my idea of
peaceful
!" declared Bud hotly. "It’s just luck that people weren’t killed!"

Frowning, Eldreth took a few steps back. "I don’t know what you’re referring to, Mr. Barclay. There was only the one incident, which I have acknowledged. I was present and in control of things. The injury was to a few bits of metal. Was there—
are you saying
― "

Seeing that the man was becoming agitated, Tom diverted the subject. "The highway will serve the people of Ngombia," he stated in a soothing tone. "Besides, it runs
above
the jungle and wouldn’t interfere with your work."

As Eldreth stared at the young inventor uncertainly, Tom added, "Incidentally, I’d like to hear about your experiments. My father and I have studied your technical papers. We’re interested in your theories about the breeding of throwbacks."

Professor Eldreth’s angry expression relaxed as he realized that Tom was sincere. "I’ve often heard of you, Mr. Swift, even before the government announced the highway project," he said. "I keep up with the world’s news. You are an outstanding scientist—yet so young; something of an anomalous phenomenon. Very well—perhaps you can appreciate what I’ve done."

He led the boys into another room. Tom glanced at the array of scientific equipment. It was a fully equipped biological laboratory!

"Most scientists sneer at my work," Eldreth confided. "I imagine you already know this. But here, working apart in this world of the primeval, I have proven my theories! I have succeeded in breeding throwbacks to the dinosaurs that lived many millions of years ago!"