Tom Swift and His Megascope Space Prober (16 page)

Tom was able to peer through the hole. He looked into a large room, bare but for a broad ornate desk. Seated behind the desk, half draped in shadow, sat Comrade-General Li Ching, his strangely narrow, high-cheeked countenance unsmiling and formidable.

Three of the sisters stood at a respectful distance across the room. Tom saw that Julia held one of the Private Ear units in her hand. "We’ve brought you the Swift communicator, sir," she said. "They were able to finish it before they—um― "

"Before they took to the air in our little dome. Which ended up in Lake Huron, I’m told. But I see only one of the pair of units."

"We left the other down in the car, so we can demonstrate it for you. We’ll drive a few miles, then call you."

What were the Women With Issues up to? Tom wondered. He knew he and his father hadn’t fixed the PERs. Had some of Li’s technicians completed the job?
But he’d already know it if they had
, reasoned the young inventor, puzzled.

Li didn’t respond to Julia’s explanation. Instead he said: "Come no closer, please. I’m feeling shy tonight. And tell me, where is the fourth of my darling girls?"

"We—we left Angela behind," stammered Lana Pellasen nervously.

"Oh? But why?"

Julia took a deep breath. "I’ll be very frank, sir. We love our sister, but Angie doesn’t seem to have the stomach for this kind of work. We’ve come to feel she isn’t very dependable."

Li Ching gave a dispassionate nod. "The possibility of betrayal, perhaps?"

"We don’t like to admit it."

"Of course not. One should show loyalty to one’s flesh and blood, hmm? But don’t infest yourselves with guilt, ladies—that is, you ‘Women With Issues’, as I’m told you’ve begun calling yourselves."

Even in the dim light Tom could see the sisters turn white with dismay. "It’s just a little joke," declared Julia.

"One you chose to share with Tom Swift, when you unwisely decided to taunt him with a note. Which, I might say, was only one of several recent instances in which you exceeded my instructions." The snakeman shook his head thoughtfully. "I raised you—had you raised, at least. I saw to your education. I gave a purpose to your foolish lives, did I not? Ah me, the disappointments of offspring. ‘
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth
,’ they say. And am I not the serpent?"

"If we’ve done anything wrong― " began Mireva in a panicked voice. But Julia cut her off with a sharp motion.

Li continued, "Wrong? Have you done anything
right
, I might ask. You were to administer certain thefts and certain deserved punishments for the boy. I did not instruct you to make an attempt on the Swift girl. Did you think to curry favor with such nonsense? Perhaps it never occurred to you that I would be watching with my flying eye, and a frigid ray to inflict a penalty for disobedience. Try as I might, my anger sometimes gets the better of me. Not my fault. And as for your own sister, my little Angela..." Li Ching paused, then looked down at something in front of him. "Well, let us be organized and not waste time, a most valuable commodity. I have made a little list—bullet points, they call it.

"First, then, is the fact that your undependable sister has
already
betrayed you. She contacted me hours ago and gave a very comprehensive account of your actions and intent.

"And thus—second—I know that this radio unit doesn’t work. Except, of course, to kill me when you activate the explosive device within it. From your car, while I hold it anxiously to my ear.

"Third, much as I applaud your ingenuity, I won’t tolerate your vengeful designs upon me. Ingratitude, ingratitude."

"
You had our parents killed!
" snarled Julia. "Did you think we’d never figure it out?"

Li almost smiled. "It took you rather a long time. I presume these are your ‘issues,’ eh? Please understand, my dears, your parents were quite unstable mentally and getting worse with time, a weakness which I now perceive to run in the family. They had come to enjoy playing with explosives, a self-indulgent vice I cannot afford in my employees. And so—and so.

"Ah, but you’ve diverted me from my bullet points. My fourth point reflects my own self-indulgence, I suppose. But does not a trace of wit leaven the spirit? When you pulled the door shut behind you, a door fated never to be unlocked, you activated a timing mechanism. In a little while—oh my, I see it’s less than two minutes now—a precise signal of my own will actuate the explosive in your little box. No doubt it will render this desk of mine utterly unusable. But it won’t penetrate down to the floor below, I am assured."

Lana began to shriek in terror. "Y-you mean—you’ll blow yourself up just, just to― "

"Certainly not. I’m very valuable. I am the future, you know. You see—yet you don’t!—the person before you is not a person at all, but an image on a marvelous digital video system. I hate to have it ruined—I stole it from the Brazilians. No loss to them, really—television programming in Brazil is utterly pathetic. The yearning populace must get their bread and circuses in the form of disgustingly violent American programs relayed by the Swift space station.

"That was my fifth point, and my last. I have reached the end of the page, my darlings, as have you. This is the
Fanshen
, signing off."

Tom heard these words, and the frenzied cries of the Women With Issues, as he struggled to work his way backwards to the outside. He knew he could do nothing to help the sisters. He wasn’t sure he could even help himself!
When that bomb goes off, this little crawlspace will be like the mouth of a cannon!
he gulped inwardly.

Tom could visualize, in fearsome detail, what would happen next. In mere seconds a powerful concussion would flash through the room—blasting him out into the air, to hurtle helplessly sixteen stories to the ground!

Tom Swift, Human Fly, was about to become Tom Swift, Human Cannonball!

TOM slipped through the wall opening, which seemed to have shrunk since he entered it, and switched on the gravitexes as he turned to face the wall. They took hold with a kick, pressing him forward, and he began to scramble down and sideways, frantically.

The blast came just as his head sank below the level of the ledge. It was a big one! A viper’s tongue of fire shot out through the opening some thirty feet into space. The wall shook violently—and for a nightmarish instant the young inventor lost contact with it and began to fall!

The gravitexes reasserted themselves, again slamming Tom forward. He had already slid down some distance toward the ground. He decided not to try to reach the lift device, but to continue scraping his way down the side of the building by his own unaided efforts, the thick chameleon suit protecting him from abrasion as he skidded earthward.

Tom didn’t stop when his feet touched the concrete walk, but continued limply until he was lying flat on his back and looking up the side of the Selland Building. A puff of whitish smoke was now the only sign of the explosion on Floor Sixteen.

"The Women With Issues didn’t complete their mission," he whispered aloud. "But
I
sure did!"

At the motorhome Gary greeted the young inventor calmly. "So how’d it go? Didn’t take you very long."

"Oh, it went fine," Tom replied, beginning to peel the suit off; "
all things considered.
"

Jetting back to Shopton in a somber mood, Tom made his reports and received his adulations as modestly as possible. Then he slept deeply for the rest of the night—and the first half of daylight.

Another afternoon and night, and it was the morning of the launch of the
Highroad
from Cape Canaveral. The Swifts were gathered in the observatory next to the megascope screen, as were Bashalli Prandit and a number of Swift Enterprises employees.

"Say, lookee," exclaimed Chow, pointing. "Ain’t that Kaye, yer TV feller?"

"That’s right," Mr. Swift answered. "He’s there from the Key West station to broadcast the launch over our videophone network. The Barclays are watching at our San Francisco office."

They watched Bud and the other members of the crew ascend the gantry and enter the
Highroad
, so clear and close they seemed to be walking along beside the astronauts. "As always, Budworth is confident and cocky," Bash observed. "But that one there, standing next to him—that must be the obnoxious Chipper."

Tom nodded, and Chow put in: "Don’t much like th’ looks o’ that one. Weasely kind."

The hatch was sealed and the countdown commenced, relayed by a broadcast network’s audio feed. "Oh
dear
!" Sandy murmured. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped Bashi’s arm. "Tom, couldn’t we see Bud inside the capsule?"

"I’m afraid not, San. Too much metal in the area. It’ll be easier once they’re up in space, though," he replied quietly.

The countdown ran to zero and white fire belched from the Astrodyne booster. The rocket rose on a flaming column, slowly at first, then suddenly faster.

Tom adjusted the megascope to follow the path of the craft, using positioning data Bud had provided. The
Highroad
streaked through clouds that fled by like bullets. Tom checked his watch. "It’s at max-Q—maximum dynamic pressure. Looks good so far."

As the sky darkened around the vehicle, the Astrodyne, a single-stage booster, began to eject spent storage tanks to lighten its weight. Presently Mr. Swift said, "Well, there goes the Astrodyne. Good separation, wouldn’t you say, Hank?"

Hank Sterling nodded. "Very clean, and on time."

"And now Bud’s in orbit," Tom pronounced.

"He is not yet on his way to Venus?" asked Bashalli.

"No, Bash, not for a few days," explained the scientist-inventor. "The laser drive provides continuous acceleration but not much power. They’ll spiral outward in larger and larger loops, finally making a close pass by the moon. The moon’s gravity will send them on their way to Venus."

They were expecting a call from Bud on the PER. It came as the
Highroad
had orbited to the far side of the earth. "Went pretty well," said the youth. "I’d almost forgotten what G-pressure is like."

"And how’s that problem you mentioned?" Tom asked cautiously.

"Not critical at the moment, pal. I’m keeping
chipper
. You all zoomed-in with the megascope?"

"Yep—right now we’re floating within arm’s reach of porthole number five."

"Okay, just a sec."

Bud appeared behind the porthole. He gave the watchers a salute, and ended by giving his best friend the promised wave.

"Be good, flyboy," said Tom.

"Oh, I will. Big Brother is watching—right?"

Bud clicked off, and Tom’s mother put a hand on his arm.

The young inventor kept tabs on the rising orbit of the
Highroad
as it mounted toward the moon hour by hour. He didn’t try to make further contact with Bud, knowing that a spaceship’s captain would be engrossed in any number of vital tasks.

That afternoon Tom was put in video communication with Congressman Van Arkyn. "Just got confirmation from Defense, Tom. We got ’er! The Eyeballer came swooping down on Wrightman AFB just as you programmed!"

"That’s fantastic news, sir," Tom grinned. "All it took was for Li Ching to launch the drone for one more flight for my rogue programming to kick in!"

"Yes. He still has the cryo-gun, but we’re in touch with the Germans on how to neutralize it. Now our only big concern is the guidance and control design the man was able to steal from us."

"I wouldn’t worry," said Tom jauntily. "My virus pretty much made hash of the codeware, all the way down to the special operating system Defense came up with. Since the snakeman doesn’t know I got into his control base, I think he’ll assume there was some kind of cumulative flaw in the basic design. By the time his tech people work it all out, our own engineers will have come up with a new approach."

"I suppose you’re right."

"Any comment from Asa Pike? I don’t see him there with you."

"The man
you
call Asa Pike has returned to—to where he came from. But it’s fair to say that he was most appreciative, Tom. I wish we could honor you in a public way for this, but—well, you know."

"I do, sir."

At long last came the day and the hour for the
Highroad
to make its lunar flyby and begin its months-long journey across the inner solar system.

As the time neared, Tom drove toward the observatory by nanocar, eager to watch the critical maneuver by megascope. He slowed as a caught sight of a familiar figure carrying a covered tray.

"Hi, Chow! Got a snack for me?"

"Sure do, boss!" Chow waved. "I ’as jest lookin’ fer you in that observer-terry, and now here you are!" As the cook passed a light snack to Tom, he added, "Say, you doin’ some cookin’ of your own in there?"

"Cooking? No, pardner—why?"

"Aw, nothin’. Y’jest got a beepin’ sound goin’ off, that’s all. Sounds jest like a’ oven timer."

Tom was puzzled as he continued toward the observatory and pulled to a stop. A beeping sound? None of the megascope equipment had a timer...

But then a thought electrified him.
The beep of the Private Ear Radio!
"It must be from Bud! But he said he couldn’t contact us for several hours—!"

Every instinct told Tom Swift that his closest friend was in danger!

Tom ran inside and grabbed up the beeping PER unit. "
Tom here!
" he gasped breathlessly.

"Tom, something’s happened," came Bud’s voice from space. "I’m afraid... Genius boy, it’s a rescue situation!"

"Bud, what’s going on?"

The young athlete’s voice was tense with worry—Tom could feel it. "It’s Holbrook. He’s had some kind of breakdown. A few hours ago, he started acting—strange. I told him to lie down on his bunk. Then just now he came charging into the control deck, babbling and waving his arms. I tried to put him down, but he managed to shove me into the crew compartment where the others were, and he slammed the compartment hatch shut on us. He’s done something from his side—we can’t force it open."

Bud’s words turned Tom to ice. "Then—then he’s― "