Tom Swift and the Asteroid Pirates (2 page)

"I was hoping you fellows could tell me," Tom replied. "And I’m very concerned about our guys on Nestria."

"
I’ve got Rockland on the other channel, Tom. No damage or injuries at Base Galileo—but their signal is blooey. We’re filtering and enhancing, but it’s pretty bad. Here, I’ll patch you through.
"

After a click, Kent Rockland, director of the American research installation on the tiny moonlet, came on line. "
We’re okay up here, Tom, thank goodness. But the space tracking station is telling me the blast occurred very close to the surface and the base. Lit up everything. It’s dimming out now, though.
" His voice was eerily distorted by the processing required to filter out the static, and it faded in and out like a ghost. "
I’m waiting for a report from Jatczak. Oh—Simpson and Chow are here with me.
"

"Put them on, please."

Doc Simpson was Swift Enterprises’ young medical officer as well as a researcher in his own right. He had recently been ferried to Nestria to assess the long-term effects of reduced gravity on the colony team. Chow Winkler, Enterprises’ executive chef and Tom and Bud’s close friend, had asked to accompany him to "to treat them folks up there to some decent victuals fer a change."

"
This is... so far no ...
"

The voice wavered in and out of audibility. "Doc, is that you? I can hardly make you out."

"
Yes, boss, it’s me. They say the radiation... the problem. I can barely... through all the static. But here ...
"

A different voice came on, but the words were a mishmash of indecipherable sounds.

"Repeat, Galileo. Chow, is that you?"

"
Brand my hamhocks, son, I cain’t ...
"

"Yup, it’s Chow," Bud confirmed, winking.

"How’s everybody doing up there, cowpoke?" asked Tom with an affectionate grin.

"
They ’as all doin’ peachy-fine up till now! But that there ...
"

The voice faded out suddenly with a sound like a grating hinge, and did not return. After a moment Ken Horton came on again. "
That’s all, Tom. We can’t squeeze any more out of the signal. We’ll keep at it.
"

"Thanks, Ken. It’ll get easier as the radiation dissipates. Signing off now, but give Fearing or Enterprises a call the second you get any more data."

"
Roger.
"

Tom unbuckled his seat belt and stood up. "Take over, Bud," he said thoughtfully. "Keep an eye on the test readouts. I’m going up to the astrodome for a better look."

"Right, Skipper! I guess we’ve got the best seat in the house to watch the blast, except for the ― " Bud broke off with a yelp of surprise. A queasy falling-elevator feeling swept over the youths, then subsided with a jolt. "What was
that
?"

"What does the control panel ― " Tom’s response was interrupted as the same sensation surged through them, longer and more severe.

As it faded out again, Bud gibed nervously: "What is this, air travel by pogo stick? Something’s gone wrong with the balloon-bag!"

Tom’s deep-set blue eyes scanned the monitor dials. "No, the Inertite shell is stable. It’s the repelatrons. The radiation is affecting the telespectrometers—we can’t get a precise fix on the air composition. In other words ― " The young inventor gulped as the XAIP took another unexpected plunge! He finished: "—we’re out of tune!"

"Good night! Will we lose lift completely?"

"No. In fact, conditions will improve pretty quickly," Tom responded reassuringly. "As we reach the denser atmosphere, less of the interfering radiation will get through to us. I’ll start taking us down."

"Seems to me we’re already on our way, Skipper!"

As Tom used the gravitexes to steer the descending XAIP, he kept the mysterious patch of light in view dead ahead in the sky. It still seemed to be expanding, but more slowly now. It’s brilliance had faded to a dull glow against the black of space.

What had caused the explosion, Tom wondered silently—if it
had
been an explosion? It was certainly no official American nuclear test in space, he reflected, or the Swifts, and scientists and governments around the globe, would have been given advance notice. An unannounced atom-blast in near space could set of a nuclear alert, even trigger a war!

And why had the event occurred so close to the base on Little Luna?
The young prodigy racked his brain for an answer, but without success.

Using the gravitexes and the lift-bag, which was stable again, Tom guided the XAIP back to its pad at Fearing Island. Touching down at last, the two hastened to the blockhouse to make a brief report to the research team. As they came out again, the Atlantic sky was turning pale with sunrise. The blob of light from the explosion was no longer visible.

"Wonder if the outpost has anything new on it?" Bud murmured.

"Ken said he’d call, but let’s try him again."

They made way quickly to the communications center in Fearing’s control tower. As they arrived, the operator on duty told Tom that he was to contact George Dilling at Swift Enterprises immediately. Dilling was in charge of the Enterprises office of information and was usually "in the loop" with respect to unusual events that might stir public inquiries.

"Good thing I came in early to work up a press release," he told Tom in harried tones. "The nightshift guy in the space communications room told me a message came in about an hour ago through the magnifying antenna. It was the space friends, Tom!"

Tom’s eyebrows peaked in surprise. The space friends, mysterious other-planetary beings who had established radio contact with Tom, communicated with Earth by a visual code of mathematical symbols which were mot easily translated, even with the assistance of the computerized "space dictionary" Tom and his father had developed. "What was the message, George? Has it been translated?"

"Demassin’s come up with something by using the computer, but the space people had to send several different versions. He thinks the last one was simplified—even so, I’ll leave it to you to figure out what it means. Here, I’ll digi-fax it to you now."

In moments Tom and Bud were gazing at the message in perplexity. Beneath the array of strange hieroglyphics was the tentatively translated text in English.

WE ARE FRIENDS. TRANSPORT CONTAINER FROM TOM SWIFT SINGULARITY EXPONENTIATION BY OPPOSED FORCE MATTER.

"Uh huh," grumbled Bud. "These guys need a good ‘English as a second language’ course."

Tom was frowning deeply. "I can’t make it out either, pal. Still, it’s just a rough approximation. Dad and I will study the symbols. Anyhow, let’s get Ken on the horn."

Before he could signal the space station, a beep announced that the outpost was calling in. A tense, excited voice came over the speaker. "
Sky Haven to Fearing! Do you read me?
"

"We read you, Ken—Tom here. But your signal is fading in and out."

"
We don’t know what’s causing it, but... Bad news, Tom. That burst of light? Well, it must have been one of our unmanned cargo rockets ferrying the monthly supply packet to Nestria. Evidently it exploded!
"

Tom and Bud were stunned! "Are you
sure
it was the rocket, Ken? I mean—the shuttle drones are just ordinary combustion-thrust rockets. There’s nothing aboard that could cause a nuclear explosion."

"
We’re positive, Skipper. We pulled up the tracking data. All of a sudden it disappeared at the same time and at same spot as that burst of radiation. It must have disintegrated.
"

"But what caused the explosion?" Bud asked over the microphone. "Any clues?"

"
Not so far, hombre. It’s a total mystery,
" Horton replied.

Tom’s face was grim. "Okay. You know how serious this is, Ken. Stand by and keep us informed," he directed. "I’m taking the
Queen
back to Enterprises."

Tom immediately called his father in Shopton, awakening him. "Lord!—this could quickly become a crisis, son. I’m sure it’s occurred to you that we may be dealing with sabotage."

"I know," Tom stated. "And the deadliest kind—nuclear sabotage. The only explanation I can come up with is that someone planted some kind of thermonuclear device aboard the rocket!"

"What a horrible thought!"

Puzzled and worried, Tom guided the Flying Lab back north. Bud was at his side as always, his young face full of question. As Tom banked the huge jetcraft into a sweeping turn and began the steep descent into the ship’s underground hangar at the Swifts’ vast experimental station, he was no nearer the answer.
Thank goodness there was no crew aboard the lost rocket,
he thought.

Easing down past the massive ceiling doors of the hangar, the
Sky Queen
set down by means of its jet lifters and the boys and the XAIP scientists disembarked. As Tom and Bud hurried across the morning-lit Enterprises airfield on one of the ridewalk personnel conveyors, a messenger on a scooter came speeding out from the control tower to intercept them.

"We just had a flash from Fearing Island, Mr. Swift," he told Tom. "They’re saying they’ve lost all contact with Nestria! The men on the base don’t respond to our calls!"

Tom turned white at the news. "Dad was right, Bud—it’s a crisis. And I’m afraid it’s turning deadly!"

THE sudden news sent a chill of foreboding through Tom and Bud. Once again they had to consider a dreadful possibility. Had the rocket explosion destroyed the personnel on Nestria after all, by some delayed effect?

"This is awful, Tom!" Bud gulped. "Jetz, you don’t suppose—all those poor guys up on the base ― "

"Don’t say it!" Tom shuddered. "It could be just more of the radio interference. Come on, let’s see what we can find out through the space prober!"

With a quick thanks to the messenger, Tom dashed off with Bud at his heels. The two boys hopped onto another ridewalk and sped across the grounds of Swift Enterprises in a different direction.

The experimental station was a high-walled, four-mile-square enclosure, crisscrossed with airstrips and dotted with sparkling modern research laboratories, test facilities, hangars, and workshops. Virtually a scientific city, it was here that young Tom and his equally eminent father Damon Swift developed their many inventions, continuing the family tradition begun by the first Tom Swift, Tom’s renowned great-grandfather.

In moments they stepped off before the astronomical observatory building in an isolated section of the plant grounds, topped by its great rounded dome. Tom and Bud hurried inside, finding Mr. Swift waiting next to the console of Tom’s "Mighty Eye," his megascope space prober.

Mr. Swift looked up and nodded as the boys arrived. He was talking on a portable telephone. "No, sir. As yet we have no due to the cause, but we’ll keep you informed. Dilling’s department will be handling the public statements... Right! Goodbye."

"More trouble, Dad?" Tom queried.

"A bit. Just as we feared, the United States and Canada almost had a nuclear alert," Mr. Swift said wryly. Spare and athletic, with graying hair, he looked a great deal like his son.

"A nuclear alert!" Bud gasped. "On account of our rocket exploding?"

Mr. Swift nodded. "That was the North American Air Defense Command calling. The blast momentarily disrupted its detection and tracking system—even the deep-space satellites. They’re calling it an electromagnetic pulse effect, of extraordinary magnitude."

"Good night!" Tom exclaimed. "And Fearing has lost contact with the base on Nestria!"

Mr. Swift showed instant concern. "I was just told. I’ve had no chance to try your space prober," he said.

Tom’s megascope space prober, a recent invention, was an amazing video telescope of nearly unlimited range. Rather than using magnifying lenses like an optical instrument, it employed a revolutionary quantum-link principle to establish a remote viewing point near its target. A close-up picture of the object being sighted was produced on a monitor screen in astounding detail.

Hands trembling with excitement and anxiety, Tom quickly fed the asteroid’s orbital data into the prober’s tracking computer, then tuned the range control. As the huge antenna shifted into position, the three waited anxiously for an image of Nestria to appear.

The viewing screen remained blank!

"What’s wrong?" Bud asked. Shrugging, Tom adjusted the megascope’s anti-inverse-square-wave generator without result. "C-could something have happened to the whole deal? To Little Luna?"

Tom’s forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. "Apparently the prober’s microwave beam isn’t getting through."

"That may be a good sign," Mr. Swift put in. "Perhaps the researchers on Nestria are alive and well, but simply can’t communicate with us."

"But what’s blocking the signals
now?
" Bud inquired, puzzled. "The fallout from the explosion?"

"Possibly. Or it might just be one of those freakish blackouts due to solar activity." Mr. Swift went on worriedly: "And yet—the megascope’s spacewave guide-tube would be unaffected by electromagnetic radiation. The microwave beam shouldn’t be disrupted."

But Tom pointed out, "Dad, it could be the transparency of the guide-tube that’s
causing
the problem! The radiation could be directly interfering with the beam as it passes along the tube, scrambling its coherence parameters."

"True. But in that case... Try moving the sensor-node away from Nestria."

Tom gave a rueful smile. "I should have thought of that." Tom used the trackball atop the console to shift the megascope’s viewpoint, pulling back toward the earth. He moved the beam-terminus slowly, mile by mile. At first there was no effect. Then, abruptly, a picture flashed into view on the screen.

"There she is!" cried Bud elatedly. "Man oh man, what a relief!"

The curving sweep of Little Luna’s rugged horizon filled most of the monitor screen. The asteroid’s dark, rocky terrain showed a haze of clouds here and there, floating close to the surface in the breathable atmosphere maintained by Tom’s two atmosphere making machines, one at each pole.