Part 11 (1/2)
”Buck up, pal,” Bud said stoutly. ”We'll find 'em-and soon!”
Nevertheless, it was a gloomy crew of searchers who returned to the s.p.a.ce station aboard the Challenger.
”Any luck?” asked Ken Horton as the station 105.
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crew gathered around anxiously to hear the news.
Tom shook his head. ”Looks as if we have three choices-a natural phenomenon, the s.p.a.ce people, and earth enemies. If it's the last group, we'll probably hear from them.”
The young inventor was too downhearted to blame the radarmen who should have detected any marauders on their scopes. But Chow reeled off a few scorching remarks of his own.
”I ain't namin' no names,” the cook growled, ”but if certain hombres had been keepin' watch like they were supposed to, no kidnapers could 'a' gotten within a hundred miles o' this here spread!”
”Now, wait a minute, Chow!” A tall, lanky radarman stepped forward angrily.
”I was manning the detection radar from twelve to four, and I can guarantee I didn't miss any blips on the scope!”
Tom's eyes sparked with interest. ”In that case,” he declared, ”our enemy must have a powerful device that drew Dad and Ted off to a great distance and then took them into a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p!”
Bud clenched his hands. ”Just like that animal rocket was drawn off so mysteriously during our race to the moon. I'll bet this proves your s.p.a.ce friends are the ones your dad is with!”
Because a strange disease was attacking the animal life on fheir planet, the s.p.a.ce people had recently sent a rocket containing infected animals, hoping the Swifts might find a cure. Later, MESSAGE FROM NOWHERE 107.
after the infection was conquered, the s.h.i.+p was propelled away by some mysterious and invisible force.
”You may be right at that, Bud.” Tom frowned thoughtfully.
”Sure, I'm right,” said Bud cheerfully. ”And I wouldn't call them kidnapers either. Remember, your dad had a radio in his s.p.a.ce suit, so he could have called for help. I have a hunch that when a chance came to go off with the s.p.a.ce people, he just couldn't resist the temptation. You'll hear from him, skipper, and probably soon.”
”I sure hope so,” Tom said.
He was not altogether convinced and took the Challenger out on trip after trip, hoping to find a clue to the missing pair. He was in constant touch with Harlan Ames. But two days went by without any report from Mr. Swift or Ted.
Tom's fears mounted. Even if his father had had no chance to signal by radio at the time he left, Tom thought, surely he would have sent news by now, if he were with friendly beings.
On the third day after the disappearance, Tom was trying to eat some breakfast, although he had no appet.i.te, when a radioman came rus.h.i.+ng into the mess compartment.
”Hey, skipper!” he shouted, waving a sheet of paper. ”We've just had word on your father!”
Tom sprang from the bench, amid a babble of excitement. ”Word from where, Steve? What's the news?”
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”I don't know who sent the message,” the radioman replied. ”The sender didn't identify himself. Here, read this!” He thrust the paper into Tom's hand.
Tom read the message aloud to the eager crewmen: TOM SWIFT, OUTPOST IN s.p.a.cE. YOUR FATHER AND COMPANION.
ARE SAFE. FURTHER INFORMATION WILL FOLLOW.
”See! I told you, pal!” Bud exclaimed. ”Your dad and Ted must be with the s.p.a.ce people!”
”I'm not so sure, Bud,” the young inventor replied slowly. ”They've never communicated with us before in our own language.”
”They've never had your dad aboard their s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p before,” Bud pointed out. ”He probably worded the message for them.”
”Could be,” Tom muttered. ”If so, let's hope he signs the next one in person before I go off my rocker wondering what's happened!”
To keep his mind off his worries, Tom plunged back to work on his solartron.
He made several more experiments in his laboratory and then asked Arv and Bud to help him install the machine in the Challenger.
”We'll try it out with the energy collectors,” Tom told them. ”If the setup works okay, we can start planning for a moon expedition.”
”Lead on, Moon Boy!” Bud whooped.
Within two hours, the matter maker had been torn down and rea.s.sembled on board the s.p.a.ce- MESSAGE FROM NOWHERE 109.
s.h.i.+p. The energy collectors, baled into small bundles, were there already, leaving only the tanks of helium gas to be stacked on the s.h.i.+p.
Soon the Challenger was streaking off from the outpost. Tom continued to increase the speed, then settled into an orbit far from the station.
”Where do we stage the test, skipper?” Arv Hanson asked.
”This area will do,” Tom replied, easing off on the repelatrons.
With the s.h.i.+p coasting along at orbital speed, Arv, Tom, and two of the crewmen donned s.p.a.ce suits and hauled the energy collectors out through the air lock. Standing on the s.h.i.+p's landing platform, they unloosened the bales, then nudged them off into the void, using jet scooters. The free ends of the gas tubing were fed back into the s.h.i.+p through a special airtight fitting on the hull.
”All set, skipper?” Bud's voice came over the intercom after the work party had returned to the s.h.i.+p. Tom and Arv had gone to the compartment where the solartron and gas tanks had been installed.
”All set,” Tom replied. ”Watch through the view panes and tell me how the sheets unfold.”
”Roger!”
Opening the stopc.o.c.ks on the gas tanks, Tom fed helium into the tubing.
”Going fine, Tom!” was Bud's report. ”The 110 .
sheets are opening without a hitch!” A few moments later he added, ”Okay.
Shut off the gas! They're wide open now!”
Tense with excitement, Tom and Arv hurried up to the flight compartment where Bud was tending the controls. A thrilling spectacle greeted their eyes through the pilots' windows. Streaming off in the blackness of the void, the energy collectors had opened to their full extent, like vast silver lace sails. The tubes glistened with dazzling brilliance in the suns.h.i.+ne. The sheets reflected no light.
”Man, what a sight!” cheered one of the crew who had gathered to watch the experiment.