Tom Swift Jr - And His Space Solartron Part 1

TOM SWIFT AND HIS s.p.a.cE SOLARTRON.

By VICTOR APPLETON II.

CHAPTER I.

MORE POWER!.

"Calling Tom Swift!"

"Power failure in the wind tunnel!"

"Hey, the presses have stopped in the metal-stamping department."

Excited voices blared out over the loud-speaker in Tom Swift's private laboratory at Swift Enterprises' vast experimental station. The telephone was jangling shrilly. A lanky, blond youth of eighteen with deep-set blue eyes switched off his experimental equipment and scooped up the receiver.

"Tom Jr. speaking."

"For Pete's sake, take it easy, skipper!" gasped a voice at the other end of the line. "You've popped the main circuit breaker!"

"The load's off," Tom reported. "I just stopped my experiment."

As he hung up, a husky dark-haired youth burst into the laboratory. "Hey, what's going on, 2 .

genius boy?" Bud Barclay demanded. "Are you trying to sabotage this place?"

Tom grinned wryly. "Relax, Bud. I was just running a test on my new matter- making machine. I arranged with the power plant to cut in the stand-by generator, but even that wasn't enough to handle the current load."

Bud slumped down on a lab stool and mopped his forehead. "Whew! I thought someone was blowing up the joint! Even the radio tower started to-"

Suddenly his voice trailed off and he stared at the young inventor. "Did you say a matter-making machine?"

Tom chuckled at the surprised look on his friend's face. Bud Barclay was his closest chum and acted as copilot on Tom's air and s.p.a.ce nights.

"That's right, pal," Tom explained. "This pilot model rigged up on my test bench is designed to turn electrical energy into matter."

Bud shook his head. "Man, that'll be a better trick than pulling a rabbit out of a hat. You'll be making something out of nothing!"

"Not exactly." Tom grinned. "You wouldn't call an atomic explosion nothing, would you?"

"I'd say it's nothing to fool around with," Bud quipped. "Why?"

"Well, with atomic fission, you're turning matter into energy. This setup does just the reverse. Both cases depend on Einstein's famous equation - me2, which means that energy and matter 3.

are interchangeable. They're simply two different forms of the same thing."

Bud scratched his head thoughtfully. "Like water and ice, I suppose. Sounds good, but how do you do it?"

Tom grabbed a pencil and paper. "It's quite simple, really-at least the idea is simple. Einstein has shown that as matter approaches the speed of light, its ma.s.s increases. He worked it all out in this one little equation."

As Tom's pencil flew over the paper, Bud gulped. "You call that one little equation, pal? Looks like a whole night's homework in math to me! Keep it simple, please."

"Okay." Tom laughed. "What my new invention does is take a particle of matter and whirl it around faster and faster until it's going almost at the speed of light."

"And the faster it goes, the greater its ma.s.s?" Bud asked.

"Right. In my experimental rig, the results only show up as a slight increase of ma.s.s on this platinum screen that I'm using as a target. But I'm building a new model which I hope will produce enough matter so that I can actually weigh it."

"Wonderful, professor!" Bud exclaimed, slapping his pal on the back. "But what's this machine for-a scientific magic show?"

"No," Tom replied. "It's to help us explore s.p.a.ce-perhaps colonize the moon."

Bud's eyes grew round with excitement. "Now 4 .

you're talking my language, skipper! Give me the low-down!"

"Well, on the moon, or when we're traveling through s.p.a.ce," Tom explained, "we'll be cut off from our source of supplies. If this machine could produce oxygen, water, maybe even fuel and food, then we could exist away from the earth as long as we wanted to stay."

"Wow!" Bud bounced off his lab stool. "That means we could really explore s.p.a.ce, Tom-even visit the farthest planets!"

The young inventor nodded, grinning. "Exactly. But don't get your hopes up too soon, pal. My machine isn't perfected yet, and I'll need a lot more power to carry out my experiments."

Tom was interrupted by a third voice. "Wai, brand my buckshot, next time try an' carry 'em without blowin' all the ee-lec-tricity on this here spread!"

The boys looked up with broad smiles as a chunky, bowlegged, weather- beaten figure came into the laboratory. Chow Winkler, the Enterprises cook, wearing a white chef's hat and high-heeled cowboy boots, was pushing a lunch cart in front of his ample midriff.

"Sounds as though you've had some trouble, Chow," Tom said sympathetically.

"Trouble? Pardner, I've had real misery! And all on account o' your experimentin'. My mixer went dead jest when I was beatin' up some lemon meringy. My electronic range wouldn't work. An' there I was with two dozen half- baked pie sh.e.l.ls."

5.

Chow grunted with disgust as he served the food off the cart. "So there's your lunch, wranglers- cold beans an' applesauce."

"Looks good to me," said Tom, as both boys piled into the food hungrily.

"It better be, son, 'cause that's all I got to offer. Jest lucky you didn't electrocute yourself into the bargain, messin' around with all them volts an'

killywatts!"

Tom chuckled silently. He knew that under the old Westerner's leathery hide beat a heart as warm as Texas sunshine. Chow Winkler had been a chuck- wagon cook when he met the Swifts during one of their atomic research projects in the Southwest. He had become so fond of Tom that he agreed to go back to Shopton with them and take on the job of chef for the Swifts at Enterprises.

When they went on expeditions, he usually accompanied them as cook.

"In case you didn't know it, Chow," Bud put in slyly, "Tom's inventing a new way to make all your groceries, so you won't have to take any along on our next s.p.a.ce trip."

Chow glared at the young copilot. "None o' your whoppers, Buddy boy!"

"It's true," Bud insisted. "He's going to make all our food out of electricity."

"Out o' ^e-lec-tricity!" Chow's tanned, lined face went pale with dismay.

"Great jumpin' Je-hoshaphat, boss-is that true?"

"Well-in a way," Tom replied hesitantly.

"Brand my buffalo stew!" Chow groaned. "You 6 .

think I can fry up ee-lec-tricity on a cookstove, or sling up a dish o' boiled electric current? Why, first thing you know, I'd be blowin' the s.p.a.ceship-"

"Whoa! Hold on, Chow!" Tom interrupted with a grin. "It's true that I'm trying to produce matter from electrical energy, but that doesn't mean you'll have to cook up any volts or amperes." He explained his invention briefly as Chow listened with a worried frown. "And besides," Tom ended, "I don't even know yet whether my invention will pan out."

"Wai, let's jest hope we don't all wind up gettin' carried out-on stretchers!"

Chow grumbled darkly.

Still chuckling, Tom finished his food, then picked up the phone and called the Shopton Power and Light Company. He asked the manager if arrangements could be made to increase the supply of power to Enterprises from the town's generating plant.

"Sorry, Tom," the manager replied. "Our facilities are already overloaded. I'm afraid we can't help you until we get our new reactor plant built."

"I understand. Well, thanks, anyhow," the young inventor said and hung up.

At that moment Tom's father came into the laboratory and both boys jumped to their feet as they said "h.e.l.lo."

There was a close resemblance between father and son, especially in their keen, blue eyes, but 7.

Tom Jr. was the taller and rangier of the two. After Mr. Swift had seated himself on a stool, the boys sat down and Tom told his father about the power failure.

"No luck with the electric company?" Bud asked.

Tom shook his head. "Looks as though I'll have to go out to the Citadel if I want to continue my experiments." The Citadel was the Swifts' great atomic research center in the Southwest. "With our new generating plant out there, I should have all the power I need."

"That might be your best bet, son," Mr. Swift said. "By the way, why not take Ted Spring along?"

"Good idea, Dad. If he's going to accompany us on future s.p.a.ce flights, he may as well familiarize himself with this project. I'll phone him."

A few minutes later Ted Spring reported to the laboratory. Twenty-two years old, he was tall and athletic with light-blond hair. After graduating from an aeronautical engineering school, he had taken special training as a s.p.a.ce pilot before joining Swift Enterprises.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. Swift. Hi, fellows!" he greeted them. "What's up? Do I get my first s.p.a.ce cruise soon?"

"I'd say you're about ready for it." Mr. Swift smiled warmly. "But first we'd like you to go out to the Citadel with Tom to work on a new project."

There was a warm feeling of closeness between 8 .

Mr. Swift and the young engineer-pilot. Ted's father had been not only an old friend but a crack test pilot for the Swift Construction Company. He had lost his life on a recent test flight, and since then Mr. Swift had taken a fatherly interest in young Ted.

"I'm trying to develop a machine which will convert energy into matter," Tom explained. "My test rig here looks promising, but I'll need a tremendous amount of energy to perfect the real model. That's why it's necessary to continue my experiments at the Citadel."

Quickly Tom explained the principle of his new invention and showed the blueprints for his first working model. Ted was greatly impressed.

Mr. Swift put an arm around Tom's shoulder. "Son, this is the most advanced experiment ever undertaken by anyone since the development of atomic energy.

I'd say you're on the right track, and if your project is successful, it'll be a milestone in science!"

Tom flushed with pride. "I wouldn't have got this far without your help, Dad,"

he said quietly.

"Nonsense, son." Mr. Swift smiled. "This is your own project. But let's talk more about it this evening. Ted, will you join us at dinner? You too, Bud."

"With pleasure, sir!" Ted agreed, as Bud nodded eagerly. Both were familiar with Mrs. Swift's hospitality and delicious cooking, and Bud had an extra reason for looking forward to the evening. Tom's blond, vivacious younger sister, Sandra, 9.

who was Bud's favorite date, would be there.

As expected, the dinner of fried chicken and oven-hot mince pie was delicious. As Bud and Sandy, next to each other at the table, joked and chatted, Mrs. Swift turned to Ted. A pet.i.te, attractive woman, she avoided the public attention focused on her famous husband and son and devoted her time to homemaking and entertaining the many visitors who came.

"How's your mother, Ted?" Mrs. Swift asked solicitously.

"Fine, thank you," Ted replied. Suddenly a worried look shadowed his face.

"That reminds me. I had an odd experience the other day."

"What was it?" Tom asked.

Ted said he was embarra.s.sed to mention it but thought the Swifts should know about it. "A man named Hampshire phoned me. He said he was a lawyer and claimed he could get a lot more money for Mother and me, in connection with my father's accident, even though Swift Enterprises had made a large financial settlement.

"You understand," Ted went on, "that we are well satisfied with everything.

You folks have treated my mother very generously. But I felt I'd better tell you what Mr. Hampshire said."

"You're absolutely right, Ted. I'm glad you mentioned it," Mr. Swift replied.

"What else did this fellow Hampshire say?"

Ted frowned. "That's the funny part of it. He said he wanted no fee for handling the case, just some information in return. Of course I wasn't 10 .

interested, so I put him off. But since then I've been worried that he might be up to something underhanded."

"I think we should check on him," Tom said firmly.

"I agree, son." Mr. Swift nodded gravely. "Why not call Ames at the plant security office and see if he can trace this Mr. Hampshire?"