Tom Swift Jr - And His Space Solartron Part 17

"I've found it, Bud!" The young inventor held up a small plastic case containing a rolled-up paper. In the boys' haste to remove Ted, they must have knocked it from the holder above the door. Tom opened it and read a message printed in English: 166 .

TOM SWIFT JR. IF YOU WISH TO HAVE YOUR FATHER RETURNED.

SAFELY, OBEY THESE ORDERS. LEAVE THE COMPLETE PLANS,.

DRAWINGS, AND CALCULATIONS FOR YOUR MATTER-MAKING MACHINE.

INSIDE THIS ROCKET. YOU AND YOUR ENTIRE CREW MUST THEN LEAVE.

THE MOON AND RETURN TO YOUR s.p.a.cE OUTPOST. YOUR FATHER.

WILL BE SENT THERE BY ROCKET AS SOON AS THE PLANS ARE IN OUR.

HANDS. IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY, YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR FATHER.

ALIVE AGAIN!.

The message carried no signature. Tom's eyes misted and his throat constricted for a moment. But Bud gave a snort of fury. "Those sneaking s.p.a.ce rats!" he gritted. "Tom, you're not going to give in to them, are you?"

"Of course not. Dad wouldn't want me to," Tom retorted grimly. "Come on.

Let's get back to the ship! I want to take off before I blow my top!"

While flying back to the Challenger, Tom checked with Arv Hanson by radio and learned that the ship was ready and the crew mustered. On reaching the s.p.a.ce craft Tom told him briefly about the ransom note, then hurried up to the flight compartment with Bud. A few moments later the mighty s.p.a.ce cruiser took off from the moon area.

"Automatic pilot all the way?" Bud asked as the Challenger zoomed through the void.

Tom nodded. "The computer will guide us to the interception point. We should meet their FLAG OF TRUCE 167.

orbital track somewhere above the Indian Ocean."

Hours went by. As the time for interception approached, Tom pa.s.sed the word over the intercom. Mike watched the radarscope intently.

"No sign of 'em, skipper," he reported after scanning the area carefully for ten minutes.

Tension mounted with every pa.s.sing moment. Tom clenched his jaw in disappointment as the enemy rocket ship failed to appear.

"I can't understand it, Tom!" Ted Spring groaned. He blamed himself for the failure. Hopefully he added, "Maybe they've gone back to earth."

Tom preferred not to think of this angle. It might mean his father was dead or beyond hope of rescue. "Look, Ted," he said, "are you positive you sighted the same spot on earth each time?"

Ted shrugged hopelessly. "As sure as I can be. Of course the area was partly blotted out by cloud drifts, and I caught only a few quick glimpses. But it certainly looked like the African coast. Why, I could even make out the line of mountains!"

"Mountains?" Tom repeated. "Can you draw me a map?"

"Sure." Ted sketched out the contours of the land ma.s.s which he had seen, and shaded in the topography roughly.

"Those mountains were the Andes, Ted!" the young inventor exclaimed. "You must have been looking at South America!"

"South America?" Ted was thunderstruck.

168 .

Tom nodded. "Both South America and Africa have much the same coast outline. The two continents each bulge at the top and taper down to a narrow point at the southern tip. It would be easy to confuse them. Let's refigure our calculations for the orbital track, a.s.suming my hunch is correct!"

Turning over the controls to Bud, the young inventor hurried to the computer room with Ted. Here he fed in a new set of data. Then, as the electronic brain altered its flow of impulses to the navigational instruments, Tom returned to the flight comparment and slid back into the pilot's seat.

Bud flashed him a questioning look. "Got the new course figured, Tom?"

"Right! Keep your fingers crossed, pal!"

At lightning speed they arced through the vast reaches of s.p.a.ce, thousands of miles above the terrestrial atmosphere. Below, they watched the turning ball of earth, with its tapestry of oceans and continents.

Suddenly the intercom buzzed. "I've picked up something, skipper!" the radarman reported. "Looks like a rocket ship, dead ahead!"

The news electrified the crew. Within minutes Arv had sighted the craft by telescope, and soon it became visible through the pilots' windows.

"That's it!" Ted cried out. "I'm sure that's our enemy's rocket!"

Tom flicked on the radio and spoke into his microphone. "Swift ship Challenger calling FLAG OF TRUCE 169.

nearby rocket! This is Tom Swift Jr. speaking! . . . Swift to nearby rocket! . . .

Come in, please!"

His call was followed by silence. Tom tried several frequencies but still got no response.

"They're playing possum," Bud muttered.

Tom nodded grimly, maintaining his course straight toward the enemy.

Suddenly a rocket port opened in the ship's side. There was a burst of smoke and flame as a missile came streaking toward the Challenger!

"They're firing at us!" Bud yelled.

Tom's hand shot toward the control panel, tuning up the antimeteor repelatron to full power. Instantly the missile was held immobile by the ship's force wave! Losing momentum, it plunged out of orbit, eventually to burn up in the earth's atmosphere.

"Terrific, skipper!" Ted cheered, as the crew joined in.

Again the enemy rocket spurted flame, and other missiles followed. All rebounded harmlessly from the Challenger's invisible shield. To ensure ample protection against the barrage, Tom brought two of his main repelatron radiators into play. At last the firing ceased.

"Looks as though they're giving up!" Bud chuckled.

Tom's face became grave. "Bud, I'm worried. If they figure they can't hold out against us, they may decide to kill Dad rather than be taken alive!"

170.

"Good night! I never thought of that!" The copilot stared at Tom fearfully.

"What can we do?"

"I'll try calling them again!" But as Tom began speaking into his mike, a white flag suddenly appeared from the air lock of the enemy rocket!

"A flag of truce!" Bud cried. "They must be ready to surrender!"

The young inventor scowled thoughtfully.

FLAG OF TRUCE.

171.

"That white flag may be a trick, but there's only one way to find out," he replied. "I'll go aboard."

"And I'll go with you!" Bud volunteered.

"Okay. Arv, you take over. Keep a sharp watch and be ready for trouble."

"Roger!"

Donning s.p.a.ce suits, the two boys left the Challenger and propelled themselves toward the enemy craft. The rocket's air lock opened to admit them.

"Guess the welcome mat is out," Bud remarked, with a quizzical glance at his companion.

172 .

Tom shrugged, tight-lipped, and went in through the hatch. Bud followed. As the outer door closed behind them, the inner door of the air lock opened. The boys paused cautiously and removed their s.p.a.ce helmets before stepping into the ship's living compartment. Before they could draw back, strong hands seized the two boys and yanked them inside!

"So sorry," hissed a voice with a thick Mongolian accent, "but Mr. Swift is not here. You will please hand over the complete plans now. Then we will tell you what happened to himl"

CHAPTER XX.

A RACE TO THE RESCUE.

THE boys glared angrily at their captors. The man who had spoken was a short, squat fellow with Asiatic features. His two companions also appeared to be Mongolians. One was nearly bald except for a few strands of black hair brushed across his shiny skull. The other was tall and thin, with catlike amber eyes.

"What's the big idea?" Bud blazed, ready to take on all three with his fists.

"Are you guys-"

"Hold it, Bud!" Tom put a restraining hand on his friend's arm. Turning to the leader of the enemy trio, Tom added coldly, "Have you forgotten about that flag of truce you showed?"

With a sneer the man replied, "International law does not carry into s.p.a.ce.

Besides, I am doing no harm. I am simply offering you a bargain. And I must remind you, my dear Tom Swift, that you and your friend are now our prisoners!"

Despite a feeling of uneasiness, Tom maintained a bold front. "You're wrong!" he retorted.

173.

174 .

"You three are our prisoners any time we feel like taking over this ship."

"Exactly what do you mean?" The man's tone was suddenly different.

"Your missiles can't harm us, and you can't get away. Our ship can outspeed this rocket easily. What's more," Tom pointed out, "I have a large enough crew to overpower you three in a hurry. And they'll do just that if my friend and I aren't allowed to leave this rocket safely!"

Apparently his words struck home. The enemy trio glanced at one another in alarm. Some of the bl.u.s.ter seemed to leave the short, squat leader.

"Please! Let us talk sense," he urged Tom. "You have something we want, and we can supply information that you want. Why not co-operate?"

"If that means giving you the secret of my matter maker, it's out of the question!" Tom snapped. "Tell me, where's my father? You'd better produce him fast! And who are you?"

The stranger, who refused to give his name or that of his companions, answered noncommittally, "The truth is, we cannot produce your esteemed father because he is no longer aboard this ship."

"It is true," the other two men chimed in, nodding their heads vigorously.

The young inventor felt a pang of alarm. "Then where is he?" Tom demanded.

"He disappeared several hours ago." The enemy leader explained that Mr.

Swift had complained of feeling ill. He had begged to put on his s.p.a.ce suit and go outside for exercise after A RACE TO THE RESCUE 175.

his long, cramped imprisonment aboard the rocket. "We knew he could not get far with only the reaction pistol on his s.p.a.ce suit," the Mongolian continued, "so we granted his request."

"Well, what happened?" Tom said impatiently.

"Suddenly a strange-looking s.p.a.ceship appeared. It drew your father inside, and sped off. We tried to follow it and recapture him, using our own force ray. But we were unable to overtake the other craft or draw it to us. It traveled at incredible speed!"

Tom asked what the strange ship looked like. The man replied that it was flat and saucer-shaped, and made of polished blue-green metal, with no apparent openings other than the sliding panel through which Mr. Swift had been taken aboard.

Tom and Bud shot each other glances of comprehension. "Sounds like the s.p.a.ce ark!" Bud murmured, referring to the mysterious craft in which the s.p.a.ce people had sent their infected animals.

Tom felt an inward surge of jubilation. He was sure that the rescue ship must belong to his s.p.a.ce friends. Apparently they had at last responded to his pleas for help or information!

"But this story may just be a hoax," Tom told himself.