Tom Swift in the Race to the Moon (16 page)

The ship landed again in sight of the space ark, and Bud once again transmitted the signal that had had such an unexpected effect on Tom. And this time, at long last, it worked—Tom Swift was suddenly standing atop the saucer, Nicky on his shoulder!

As the crew cheered joyously, none louder than Bud, Tom radioed that all was well and reboarded his waiting Repelatron Donkey. He returned to the ship and the warm bearhugs of his friends, the spaceship rising to meet him.

They exchanged stories. "You really outsmarted them, flyboy, Hank!" Tom exclaimed with gusto.

"But what we did can’t compare to what you’ve found within the capsule," said Anton Faber soberly. "Intelligent, telepathic animals! Fantastic to think of all you discovered in such a very short span of time."

Tom smiled but looked slightly puzzled. "Thanks. But it wasn’t all that brief, you know—several hours, wasn’t it?"

Bud laughed. "Several hours? Maybe it seemed that way to you, chum, but you were only inside the ark for about fifteen or twenty minutes at most."

"But—but that
can’t
be!" Frowning, Tom looked at his suit chronometer. It matched Bud’s estimate perfectly!

"How could they control my subjective sense of time without altering the objective flow—" Tom began, when their came an interruption from the communications cabin.

"A message coming in!"

"From the Brungarians?" Tom asked.

"From deep space! I’ll send the oscilloscope output up to your console."

Tom rushed to the control panel and watched as space symbols appeared on the scope. In a few moments words in English began appearing as provided by the electronic translator.

TO TOM SWIFT. WE ARE FRIENDS. WE ARE AWARE OF YOUR CONTACT WITH THE TRANSMISSION VEHICLE. ANIMAL SPECIMENS CANNOT LIVE LONG. LIFE SITUATION ON OUR PLANET IS DESPERATE. REQUEST YOU CARRY OUT OPERATIONS WITH GREATEST POSSIBLE SPEED. DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS MESSAGE. DANGER TO US IS PROBABLE RESULTANT.

Chow groaned colorfully, scratching his bald head. "Typical! What sort o’ cockamie plot twist are they spoutin’ off about now? Why don’t they want you to answer?"

"It may have something to do with the relationship between the Martian base and the ‘masters’ on their home planet," Arv Hanson suggested. "They may be defying a direct order by contacting us now, without higher-level permission."

"Wa-aal," grumped Chow, "the more I hear about this here Planet X, the more I appreciate the X in Texas!"

"We have no time to waste, lads," said Evan Glennon softly. "Now that we have our enemies helpless, we three bioscientists must go aboard the ark and tend to the animals as best we can."

"As far as I can see, you guys won’t be completely safe as long as those Sentimentalistas, or whatever they call themselves, are hangin’ around right over our heads," Bud said bitterly. "I don’t trust them any further than I can repela-throw them!"

A crewman chimed in. "Barclay’s right, Tom. Let ’em drop on the moon while they’re still helpless!"

Others urged the same course, but Tom shook his head. "As long as they’re in our power, we can’t let them crash to their deaths. That may be
their
way, but it isn’t ours. Some day we may teach the world’s fanatics to play square."

"Why not call the Brungarians and parley a bit more?" Dr. Faber suggested in a quiet voice. "If we offer to share with them the scientific honors and the chance to work with the infected animals, or at least observe our own activities, perhaps they’ll reconsider their attitude. They might allow some of us onto their ship, to ensure their safety from any more 'hostile' acts."

Some of the listeners groaned. Tom shrugged. "We tried it once and it blew up in our faces, but it certainly won’t do any harm to make another offer. We’re in a position of strength now, I guess."

But the Brungarian ship promptly returned a negative answer. "To allow you onto our ship, that is something you can hardly expect of us. But consider this counter offer. Permit me, with two of my scientists, to join you inside the vessel. We will observe, nothing more. And of course we will be at your mercy. The
Dyaune
can make no moves against the ship while we accompany you."

Tom accepted the logic of Volj’s proposal. He agreed to rendezvous with the three Brungarians on the hull of the saucer.

"Brand my six-shooters, what’re we waitin’ for?" Chow whooped. "Let’s saddle up our repelly-jet broncs an’ get movin’, buckaroos!"

A team of eight was quickly selected—Tom, Bud, Hank, Arv, Chow, and the three scientists. "I suggest you make it nine, Tom," urged Violet Wohl. "As a form of earthly animal life with some near-human characteristics, Nicky could be valuable to you—sort of a telepathic relay station."

Tom nodded. "You’re right, Doc Vi. Nicky deserves to come along." The little monkey had shown no further signs of enhanced intelligence since leaving the interior of the space ark, but Tom was curious to observe the effect of further exposure.

As all the remaining crew rushed to their posts, Tom and his team descended to the
Challenger
’s hangar. Doubling up on some of the Donkeys, they soon were standing on the alien hull, where Nattan Volj and his colleagues were already awaiting them. Glennon, Faber, and Wohl had brought along cases containing instruments and medical supplies of different types.

"It will not be to your advantage to disappear as you did before," Volj warned Tom.

"I have no control over it," was Tom’s cool answer. He radioed the
Challenger:
"Transmit the signal."

An instant later, the top of the hull of the ark was blank. Even the Repelatron Donkeys had vanished!

"B-b-brand my somethin’ ’r other!" stammered Chow. "If’n you hadn’t o’ warned me, boss, I think I’d be spread out on this here deck about now!"

The large group, and their equipment, stood in the curving corridor that surrounded the zoo enclosure. The inner barrier wall was as transparent as when Tom left it.

The bioscientists reacted with amazed awe at the sight of the other-planetary life forms. "Wonder of wonders!" cried Dr. Glennon. "The dinosaurs live again, eh?—in miniature!"

"Do you propose to examine and treat those creatures through this transparent wall?" asked Volj.

Tom smiled. "Watch us, Professor!" He led the way right through the soft barrier, and Volj and his men followed, eyebrows raised.

"I imagine the wall was included for our own protection, in case we didn’t want to get close to them," Tom replied. "Or perhaps to help maintain the special environment they require."

"Let’s set up the equipment," urged Anton Faber, his brow creased at the sight of the animals. Soon various pieces of examination apparatus, including the leptoscope that they had brought along, were in place and ready for operation.

"At last we can begin the real job," Dr. Faber said with satisfaction. "Tom, this project is a zoologist’s dream!"

"You sure these babies won’t bite?" Bud asked, eying the animals cautiously.

"They hardly look as if they have enough appetite," Tom remarked. "And look how calm and friendly they are toward us!"

"Not quite all of us," whispered Arv Hanson. Tom and Bud grinned as they noticed how the creatures skittered away from Nattan Volj as he tried to approach them with hand outstretched.

"Like you said, Tom, them’s mighty smart animals!" Chow exclaimed approvingly. "Reckon they’s good judges o’ character, too."

"More of their mind-sensing powers, no doubt," Evan Glennon observed. "In any event I’d say they’re either too sick or too docile to harm us, perhaps both. Look at the way that poor fellow’s ribs stick out. Probably hasn’t put away a square meal for days."

"Well, don’t look at me—I’m no candidate!" Bud said hastily.

Chuckling, Glennon went up to one of the dinosaurs, took its head between his hands, and proceeded to inspect its heavy-lidded eyes. His gentle manner and friendly murmurings in Welsh seemed to have a soothing effect on the beast.

Tom and Bud looked at one another, grinning. "You’d think he was an old hand with these space monsters," Bud whispered.

Meanwhile, Dr. Faber and Violet Wohl were similarly engaged. During the next half hour, they examined all the animals cursorily, conferred together, and finally reported to Tom.

"The symptoms are similar to those of Brucellosis," Wohl announced.

"Is that good news or bad?" Tom asked.

"Both, in a way," Faber explained. "The symptoms are very familiar. But of course, despite the symptoms, the etiology is quite different."

"Now we must track the effects to their causes," said Glennon. "Perhaps the trail shall lead down to molecule and atom, where my own quantum expertise shall prove a blessing to us."

As Professor Volj and his crewmen looked on with a keen and cunning interest, Hank Sterling rolled the leptoscope scanner up to the first selected animal, a creature shaped like a large mongoose but covered in layers of iridescent feathers. As the engineer switched on the apparatus, its slight hum seemed to alarm the animal. It shrank back in evident fear, and even Glennon’s Welsh coaxings failed to persuade it to come closer.

"I have an idea," Tom said. "Doc Vi, see if you can get Nicky to stand under the receiving antenna." Almost before Tom had finished speaking, the monkey had scurried over to take his place. Not quite sure of what he was doing, Tom sent Nicky "good thoughts"—feelings of comfort and reassurance.
You’ll come to no harm—trust us!
Tom "transmitted," hoping that somehow the gist of it would be spread to the other animals.

The method worked! The mongoose-bird suddenly seemed to take heart and crept its way into position, gently nudging Nicky aside, as if thanking him.

Now a lengthy period of study ensued. Though as before the personal time of the visitors seemed to stretch out while "real" time was almost slowed to a stop, everyone was well aware that another sort of clock was also ticking. The planet of the space friends was facing catastrophe.

As the three bioscientists approached Tom in a group, he glanced at them expectantly. "Any cure?"

Dr. Wohl spoke for them. "Tom, there simply is not enough time. What could we have been thinking, to imagine that we could work out an alien biology in a few hours? It’s hopeless!"

Tom shook his head. "I can’t accept that, Dr. Wohl. Tell me what you’ve found, what you’ve observed with the instruments."

"Ach, most interesting, lad. But in this case, I think ’twould be better to be boring and familiar." Evan Glennon shrugged helplessly. "As previously determined, their tissues do have an inner structure somewhat akin to our own—something like cells, something like cytoplasm, something like a nucleus. Under the electron microscope, the minute sample we extracted reveals twisted braids of organic molecules—chromosomes, genes, alien DNA. But then…"

He activated the taped record of the instrument’s visual output. "Good grief, what are
those?"
Bud gasped.

"The enemy!" pronounced Dr. Faber.

The screen showed strange geometric forms, rotating and moving about in a determined way, constantly changing shape, as if able to grow appendages at will.

"Look more like spots in front o’ your eyes than germs," muttered Chow in awe.

"Nanobots," pronounced Tom grimly. "I’m almost sure of it!"

"A sort of virus, chief?" asked Arv.

"In a way—but not the kind we’re used to," he responded. "I think we’re looking at something artificial, molecule-sized robots that can manufacture replicas of themselves using local materials. Highly-adaptive mechanisms, in other words, with some sort of basic programming that has turned destructive. Perhaps the space people themselves created them; it might be how they originally began to manipulate the genetic instructions of their animals."

"But there was a major malfunction somewhere along the way," commented Hank. "Now they don’t have a clue how to attack the problem."

Faber nodded. "Our speculations were along the same lines, Tom. The symptoms of illness are the reactions of the animals’ bodies to the invasion."

"To a great extent, I think the bodies have been quite effective in fighting the infection," put in Violet Wohl. "The nanobots seem to be confined to ‘colonies’ in a certain central organ that all these animals share. But the techno-microbes trapped there are ‘experimenting,’ so to speak, and they’ve developed resistance factors more rapidly than the immune systems can wipe them out."

"You’d almost have to, somehow, switch off all the mechanisms at once," said Dr. Faber. "If that happened, I’d think the animals would be able to eliminate the deactivated remains as waste."

Professor Volj now approached them closely. "Most interesting, these speculations from you academics of the decadent West. But tell me, what probability is there that this infestation could be used against—that is, cross over to—terrestrials?"

The scientists exchanged glances. "It depends on the details of how the nanobots are programmed, of course," Glennon replied. "But I tell you, my man, there is no reason to presume that they
couldn’t
cross over. And should such a thing happen, abandon all hope—we humans would have no defense at all!"

"WE HAVE to exercise our human ingenuity," said Tom with fierce determination. "The space friends set this problem for us because they knew that as an entirely different form of life, there was a good chance we’d have a completely different ‘take’ on it. Let’s prove them right!"

"American optimism, the envy of the world!" snorted Volj. "I suggest we take some tissue samples to Earth with us in sealed containers, for further study. Then I offer the use of certain materials from the
Dyaune
to incinerate this sad tank of disease."

Tom glared at the Brungarian. "Bud—Chow—Arv—keep watch on the Professor and his colleagues. Herd them off in a corner somewhere before I start the next world war!"

For some time Tom and Hank conferred in quiet tones with Wohl, Glennon, and Faber while from across the zoo Bud and the others looked on with whatever watery optimism they could muster.