Tom swift and the Captive Planetoid by Victor Appleton II Page A
Authors: Victor Appleton II
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sounds like you’ve written him off, Mr. Demburton.”
“Don’t think ill of us, Tom. He made his real contribution in his youth.”
“They may say the same thing about me.”
“Yes. Well, surely not. Mm—we’d just like you to understand our position.”
“Yes sir,” replied Tom. “I really do understand.” But I don’t understand everything! his thought added.
The balance of the day was spent in discussion of the towering new space project. Tom met at length with his father and Jake Aturian, head of the Swift Construction Company affiliate and always something of the more cautious “voice of reason.” They solicited off-the-cuff opinions from the engineering and technical departments, and distributed copies of Neil Gerard’s many yellowing articles for comment. “We’ll have to look very carefully for ways to build the science into this kind of years-long voyage around the sun,” noted Mr. Swift. “But even as a ‘stunt,’ it’s an extended experiment in human adaptation to the space environment.”
“And much more than that!” exclaimed his son. “The planetoid could function as a base for research and close-up observation for distant parts of the solar system.”
“Does the planetoid have the right sort of orbit for such a research effort?”
The young inventor grinned broadly. “Well—maybe not yet !”
Tom ended his long day back in the Security office, for a brief head’s-up meeting with Ames and his assistant, Phil Radnor. The latter said, “Skipper, I don’t think I’m tracking you on this. What’s the worry about Demburton having gotten early word on the Follower asteroid?”
Harlan Ames smiled. “Come on, Rad. Worry is a good policy around here.”
“All too true,” chuckled Tom ruefully. “It just seems unexpected—surprising—that this fellow in Madagascar happened across such a hard-to-find object just before Dr. Jatczak, probably the world’s greatest astronomer, discovered it. Dr. Jatzak’s instruments are ultra-sensitive and very advanced, and his post on Nestria gives him a tremendous advantage in this case.”
“In other words,” said Radnor, “coincidence is getting stretched like taffy. Usually an early-warning signal for trouble on its way.”
“The Madagascar connection, and what looks like a link to the island raiders by way of this Bose family—all very striking,” pronounced Ames. “An attack on a spaceport, a proposal for a space project. And what links them together?—”
Tom completed the thought. “Space.”
“About the emptiest clue there is.”
Over the next several days, as contracts were debated and ultimately signed, Tom and his talented engineering team worked on their ongoing enterprise, the durathermor system and its application, the duratherm wing. “Look at this!” Tom told Bud jokingly, handing him a sheet on which long strings of formulae had been written.
Bud looked it up and down. “Mm-hmm. Must be what they call free-form poetry.”
His friend laughed affectionately. “Poetry in motion! If the muses are with me, this Durafoam reformulation is all we’ll need to get rid of that burnout problem with the durathermor.”
The final reformulation tested out satisfactorily. The problem with the heat terminals handled, Tom was at last able to send up a small model of the D-Wing, designed by Arv Hanson, for a brief, crucial test in space.
As the tiny booster rocket flamed into the Shopton sky from Enterprises, Tom and Bud rushed to the monitoring station. “Everything right on the button!” the young inventor announced happily. Presently came the word, via telemetry, that the D-Wing model was in low Earth orbit. Tom let it make one circuit of the Earth; then, as began to draw near again, he turned the monitoring and control operation over to Hanson and Hank Sterling. “C’mon, pal,” he said to Bud. “Let’s watch the test on the megascope!”
The two hastened to the plant’s domed observatory building,
“Don’t think ill of us, Tom. He made his real contribution in his youth.”
“They may say the same thing about me.”
“Yes. Well, surely not. Mm—we’d just like you to understand our position.”
“Yes sir,” replied Tom. “I really do understand.” But I don’t understand everything! his thought added.
The balance of the day was spent in discussion of the towering new space project. Tom met at length with his father and Jake Aturian, head of the Swift Construction Company affiliate and always something of the more cautious “voice of reason.” They solicited off-the-cuff opinions from the engineering and technical departments, and distributed copies of Neil Gerard’s many yellowing articles for comment. “We’ll have to look very carefully for ways to build the science into this kind of years-long voyage around the sun,” noted Mr. Swift. “But even as a ‘stunt,’ it’s an extended experiment in human adaptation to the space environment.”
“And much more than that!” exclaimed his son. “The planetoid could function as a base for research and close-up observation for distant parts of the solar system.”
“Does the planetoid have the right sort of orbit for such a research effort?”
The young inventor grinned broadly. “Well—maybe not yet !”
Tom ended his long day back in the Security office, for a brief head’s-up meeting with Ames and his assistant, Phil Radnor. The latter said, “Skipper, I don’t think I’m tracking you on this. What’s the worry about Demburton having gotten early word on the Follower asteroid?”
Harlan Ames smiled. “Come on, Rad. Worry is a good policy around here.”
“All too true,” chuckled Tom ruefully. “It just seems unexpected—surprising—that this fellow in Madagascar happened across such a hard-to-find object just before Dr. Jatczak, probably the world’s greatest astronomer, discovered it. Dr. Jatzak’s instruments are ultra-sensitive and very advanced, and his post on Nestria gives him a tremendous advantage in this case.”
“In other words,” said Radnor, “coincidence is getting stretched like taffy. Usually an early-warning signal for trouble on its way.”
“The Madagascar connection, and what looks like a link to the island raiders by way of this Bose family—all very striking,” pronounced Ames. “An attack on a spaceport, a proposal for a space project. And what links them together?—”
Tom completed the thought. “Space.”
“About the emptiest clue there is.”
Over the next several days, as contracts were debated and ultimately signed, Tom and his talented engineering team worked on their ongoing enterprise, the durathermor system and its application, the duratherm wing. “Look at this!” Tom told Bud jokingly, handing him a sheet on which long strings of formulae had been written.
Bud looked it up and down. “Mm-hmm. Must be what they call free-form poetry.”
His friend laughed affectionately. “Poetry in motion! If the muses are with me, this Durafoam reformulation is all we’ll need to get rid of that burnout problem with the durathermor.”
The final reformulation tested out satisfactorily. The problem with the heat terminals handled, Tom was at last able to send up a small model of the D-Wing, designed by Arv Hanson, for a brief, crucial test in space.
As the tiny booster rocket flamed into the Shopton sky from Enterprises, Tom and Bud rushed to the monitoring station. “Everything right on the button!” the young inventor announced happily. Presently came the word, via telemetry, that the D-Wing model was in low Earth orbit. Tom let it make one circuit of the Earth; then, as began to draw near again, he turned the monitoring and control operation over to Hanson and Hank Sterling. “C’mon, pal,” he said to Bud. “Let’s watch the test on the megascope!”
The two hastened to the plant’s domed observatory building,
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