Part 9 (1/2)
CHAPTER X.
LARIAT LIFELINE.
TOM was startled. ”Did you report the damaged plates to Harlan Ames?”
”Sure,” Arv replied. ”Security got on the job right away. They dusted the cracked plates for fingerprints, but there were none. Evidently the plates had been knocked off a shelf. They were badly scratched and marred. Security also looked for fingerprints in the whole working area, but all they found were mine and those of the other fellows a.s.sisting me on the job.”
”Then there are no clues?” Tom asked.
Arv hesitated. ”Well, Amby Lintner suggested one possible explanation.”
”Lintner?” Tom was surprised. ”He's not working on this project, is he?”
”No, but he pointed out that Bob Dowell had brought his dog into the photographic lab the day it happened. Bob wanted to use him as a subject for some high-speed camera experiments,
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Amby said the dog may have broken loose and knocked the plates down.”
”What do you think?” Tom asked.
Arv Hanson shrugged. ”Bob says the dog was never out of his sight and that Amby's just trying to make himself look smart. I suppose it could have happened, though.”
Tom frowned thoughtfully, remembering the mysterious eavesdropper who had knocked over the bottles in his office. Could it be that the same person was responsible for both accidents?
”Oh, well,” he decided finally, ”we can't let the accident stop us. Get busy on some new plates, will you, Arv?”
”We're already working on them, Tom,” Hanson reported. ”We'll rush the job through as fast as we can, but it'll probably be a couple of days before the sheets are ready.”
”Okay, do the best you can.”
At lunchtime in the company cafeteria, Tom related the incident to Bud.
”Does that mean your work is stalled until the energy collectors are ready?”
Bud asked.
Tom shook his head as he spooned up the last of his oyster stew. ”No, I'll go back up to the outpost and finish work on my second machine. I believe I can rig up a temporary power device. Want to come along?”
”Try to leave me behind!”
By midafternoon, the castings and other parts which Tom had requested by radio were finished. These were loaded aboard a cargo jet which Tom LARIAT LIFELINE 87.
piloted to Fearing Island. From here, he and Bud blasted off in the Challenger for the return trip to the s.p.a.ce station. They reached it on schedule.
After a few hours' rest, Tom plunged into work on the second model of his s.p.a.ce solartron. In three hours it was a.s.sembled and ready for testing. The huge machine took up most of the available room in Tom's s.p.a.ce laboratory, and the dial-studded control panel stood head-high to the two boys.
”Wow! What a monster!” Bud gasped. ”You figure this will make other elements besides oxygen?”
”It should if I've designed it properly,” said Tom. ”See those push b.u.t.tons marked Element Control and Isotope Control?”
Bud nodded. ”What are they for?”
”By altering the velocity of the speeded-up particles, these control b.u.t.tons will enable us to select any element-or any isotope of an element -that we want to produce,” Tom explained. ”Solid matter will be condensed in this receiving tank, after pa.s.sing through the heat exchanger. And gases or liquids can be drawn off through this valve.”
Bud scratched his head. ”Looks as though it'll take enough power to drive a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p! Have you rigged up that temporary power source you were talking about?”
”That's our next job.” Tom pointed to a bale of metal foil which he had brought along with the machine parts. ”We'll go outside the station 88 .
and erect this foil in the shape of a huge parabolic reflector. I'll use it to concentrate the sun's rays into a bank of energy-conversion cells just like the ones on the Challenger.”
After recruiting the help of Ted Spring and several crewmen, Tom explained the job and ordered his work party to don their s.p.a.ce suits.
Chow Winkler, who was itching for an excuse to join them, slipped into his galley and returned with a coil of rope. ”Boss, I ain't practiced ropin' since I left Texas. You reckon mebbe I could go outside an' try throwin' a few loops while you hombres are workin'?”
Tom grinned at the roly-poly cook. ”Sure, pardner. Hop into your s.p.a.ce duds!”
One by one, the work party emerged through the station air lock. In spite of the brilliant suns.h.i.+ne which made every object glitter, the s.p.a.ce void was an inky black. It was broken only by the steely twinkle of the distant stars and planets.
Two of the crewmen used jet scooters to haul the heavy bale of foil and other equipment. The other members of the work party propelled themselves around by means of the reaction pistols on their suits.
Chow acted especially frisky. ”Brand my cosmic sagebrush, I sure wish I had a bronc to ride up here on this sky range!” he proclaimed over his suit radio.
”Then I'd really show you bucka-roos some fancy ridin'!”
”Maybe I can oblige,” Bud signaled back. ”I'll tell you where to find a horse in s.p.a.ce!”
LARIAT LIFELINE 89.
”You funnin' me again?” Chow demanded.
”No-on the level, Chow,” Bud replied.
”Where kin I find this hoss?”