Part 11 (2/2)
”s.p.a.ce-age windjammer, that's us!” Bud quipped.
”They really are like sails,” Tom remarked. ”Only instead of using wind, they'll be drawing power from the-”
His words ended in a gasp as one of the collectors suddenly billowed out of shape and began fluttering wildly in the void.
”Skipper, what's wrong?” cried out Arv, clutching Tom by the arm.
”I don't know, but I'd better find out p.r.o.nto!”
Donning his s.p.a.ce suit hastily, Tom rushed out through the air lock and propelled himself off the landing platform with his jet pistol. The others watched through the view panes.
They saw the young inventor streak toward the billowing energy collector. He reached it and began skimming along its surface, evidently try- MESSAGE FROM NOWHERE 111.
ing to find out what was causing the trouble. Suddenly the framework of foil tubing began to rip loose from the cell leaves!
”Good night! The whole thing's coming apart!” Bud cried out.
Like waving tentacles, the tubes and wiring began to envelop Tom. He was trapped like a fish in a net! His comrades saw him struggle desperately to free himself from the tangle.
”Brand my octopus stew, he's all roped an' hog-tied!” Chow babbled. ”Quick!
Someone get me my s.p.a.ce suit! I'm goin' out there an' save him!”
”And I'm going with you!” Bud added. ”Take over the controls, Arv!”
The copilot scrambled down to the hangar deck, and Chow was close behind him. But by the time they had climbed into their s.p.a.ce suits and emerged through the air lock, they saw Tom returning safely to the s.h.i.+p.
”What happened?” Bud called anxiously over his suit radio.
”Loose joint somewhere in the tubing,” Tom reported. ”The gas leaked out under pressure, and eventually the whole sheet went blooey.”
”You all right, boss?” Chow asked.
”Sure thing.” Tom grinned. ”It was a tough fight, but I finally got myself untangled. How about you two helping me reel up some of that loose tubing?”
”You came to the right party, son,” Chow boasted. ”Reckon that won't be no job at all for an ole lariat expert like me!”
112 .
After twenty minutes of work, the three managed to salvage most of the foil tubing and cell leaves. Then they returned to the Challenger.
”I'll start experiments with the solartron, using the other collectors,” Tom announced.
To everyone's delight, the machine worked to perfection, producing simple elements in large quant.i.ties. Tom, instead of being thrilled over the outcome, seemed halfhearted and listless.
”Guess he's worried sick about his dad,” Arv Hanson whispered to Chow.
The old cowpoke bustled down to his galley. ”Reckon I can cheer him up with a nice tasty mess o' vittles,” he told himself.
Cooking was a matter of minutes on the s.h.i.+p's electronic range. A short time later Chow rode up in the elevator to the flight deck with a loaded dinner tray.
From the covered dishes wafted the delicious aroma of corn fritters, T-Bone steak, and hot mince pie.
”Good night, Chow! What's all this?” Tom exclaimed as the cook came into the pilot's cabin. ”Up here in s.p.a.ce one can't tell whether it's time for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, but this looks like all three of today's meals rolled into one.”
”I'll tell you what it is,” said Chow. ”A special feast for the smartest young inventor on earth or in s.p.a.ce!” He lifted the dish covers, one by one, and displayed his culinary triumphs.
Tom smiled and thanked Chow gratefully. He tried to eat with a show of appet.i.te while the MESSAGE FROM NOWHERE 113.
cook stood beaming over him. But after the Westerner left the compartment, the young inventor barely picked at the food. All his fears and worries over the fate of his father and Ted Spring seemed to come crowding back on him.
”Am I doing the right thing not telling Mother?” Tom fretted. Yet he dreaded the thought of breaking the news to her. ”I'll talk it over with Ames again,” he decided.
Shoving his tray aside with the food less than half eaten, Tom hurried down to the radio compartment. In a few moments he made contact with Harlan Ames at Enterprises.
”Hi, Tom! I was just going to call you,” the security chief said. ”I have some news.”
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SECRET FORMULA.
”NEWS about Dad?” Tom asked eagerly.
”Not directly,” Ames replied, ”but it may have some connection with your father's disappearance.”
”Let's hear it!”
Ames's news concerned the Enterprises Journal. When the first issue was sent out to a restricted mailing list, one of the scientists who received a copy had phoned in a surprising bit of information. He pointed out that a certain formula which appeared in one of the articles had nothing to do with the subject matter of that particular article.
”I checked back on the formula,” Ames continued, ”and it turned out to be part of the circuit design for your new solartron.” He read off the formula.
”Good grief, Harlan!” Tom exclaimed. ”That was supposed to be top-secret!
I'm sure it wasn't 114.
THE SECRET FORMULA 115.
in the article when Dad and I went over the papers!”
”You're right,” Ames said. ”It wasn't. We got hold of the original typewritten ma.n.u.scripts from the printer and found that someone had inserted the formula in pencil.”
”Who was the 'someone'?” Tom asked.
”We haven't been able to find out yet,” the security chief said, ”but I have a hunch it was an inside job.”
<script>