Victor appleton tom sw.., p.1
Victor Appleton - Tom Swift Jr 03, page 1
TOM SWIFT AND HIS ROCKET SHIP
BY VICTOR APPLETON II
No. 3 in the Tom Swift Jr. series.
From the inside cover:
The third volume of the new TOM SWIFT JR. series takes the brilliant young inventor into outer space in a rocket ship o£ his own design.
On Fearing Island just off the Atlantic Coast, Tom’s space craft project attracts the attention o£ the spies and agents of a foreign scientist whose plan is to rule the world and space.
Tom Swift’s advantage over his competitors is that he has perfected a rocket fuel which can carry his ship into and out of orbital flight. But it takes all of Tom and Bud’s ingenuity to outwit the ruthless efforts of the foreign scientist and his desperate gang of henchmen.
The flight through space makes thrilling reading-the more exciting because you know the details of the flight are scientifically accurate.
Readers of TOM SWIFT JR. AND HIS FLYING LAB, the first book of this new series, will recall the message that came in the shape of a meteorlike object falling into the Swift plant enclosure. In. this story another message from the same mysterious source proves very valuable to Tom as he is flying through space.
The Tom Swift Jr. series:
1 Tom Swift and his Flying Lab (1954)
2 Tom Swift and his Jetmarine (1954)
3 Tom Swift and his Rocket Ship (1954)
4 Tom Swift and his Giant Robot (1954)
5 Tom Swift and his Atomic Earth Blaster (1954)
6 Tom Swift and his Outpost in Space (1955)
7 Tom Swift and his Diving Seacopter (1956)
8 Tom Swift in the Caves of Nuclear Fire (1956)
9 Tom Swift on the Phantom Satellite (1956)
10 Tom Swift and his Ultrasonic Cycloplane (1957)
11 Tom Swift and his Deep-Sea Hydrodome (1958)
12 Tom Swift in the Race to the Moon (1958)
13 Tom Swift and his Space Solartron (1958)
14 Tom Swift and his Electronic Retroscope (1959)
15 Tom Swift and his Spectromarine Selector (1960)
16 Tom Swift and the Cosmic Astronauts (1960)
17 Tom Swift and the Visitor from Planet X (1961)
18 Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung (1961)
19 Tom Swift and his Triphibian Atomicar (1962)
20 Tom Swift and his Megascope Space Prober (1962)
21 Tom Swift and the Asteroid Pirates (1963)
22 Tom Swift and his Repelatron Skyway (1963)
23 Tom Swift and his Aquatomic Tracker (1964)
24 Tom Swift and his 3D Telejector (1964)
25 Tom Swift and his Polar-Ray Dynasphere (1965)
26 Tom Swift and his Sonic Boom Trap (1965)
27 Tom Swift and his Subocean Geotron (1966)
28 Tom Swift and the Mystery Comet (1966)
29 Tom Swift and the Captive Planetoid (1967)
30 Tom Swift and his G-Force Inverter (1968)
31 Tom Swift and his Dyna-4 Capsule (1969)
32 Tom Swift and his Cosmotron Express (1970)
33 Tom Swift and the Galaxy Ghosts (1971)
ILLUSTRATED BY GRAHAM KAYE
GROSSET & DUNLAP
COPYRIGHT, 1954, BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
1 A Vanished Pilot
2 The Fuel Kicker
3 Following a Clue
4 The First Test
5 Sabotage
6 The Rocket Launching
7 A Crack-Up
8 Stowaways
9 An Inventive Escape
10 A Robot at Work
11 A Coded Threat
12 Dangerous Acid
13 A Startling Ascent
14 Emergency Orders
15 An Attempted Theft
16 Operation Shuttle
17 An Important Capture
18 Zero-Hour Interruption!
19 Sealed Instruments
20 Ghost Winds
21 An Unexpected Mishap
22 Messages from Space
23 Ominous Signs
24 An Attack
25 A Record Victory
CHAPTER 1
A VANISHED PILOT
“SOMEBODY’S FLYING into our restricted area!” Tom Swift cried as an alarm bell broke the midnight stillness of his rocket laboratory on Fearing Island.
The blond, eighteen-year-old scientist, tall and rangy, laid two wrenches beside the freshly machined, titanium metal column-the heart of the rocket-on which he had been working. Turning to a husky, dark-haired youth standing beside him, he said:
“Hurry, Bud! Switch on the patrolscope!”
Tense with excitement, Bud Barclay reached up to the wall and flicked a switch beneath a large screen. Three green points of light were moving clockwise in a large circle. Suddenly one of them made a beeline toward a small white dot.
“Our drone planes are after the pilot!” Bud exclaimed.
Each of the pilotless jets carried an amazing mechanism called the landing forcer, an invention of Tom’s. This instrument, directed from a beeper box in the control tower, could capture and steer intruding planes to Fearing’s airstrip.
“This might be an attack to wreck our rocket base!” Bud cried.
“Let’s get moving!” Tom urged, dashing toward the door.
As the boys ran from the building Tom took a quick glance at two rocket ships which stood out against the night sky. One was a pilotless dummy for a test run; the other was a needle-nosed giant in which Tom and Bud hoped to conquer space.
The wailing of the siren system shrieked over the sandy island. Immense floodlights had been switched on the instant the robots had veered toward the intruding plane. The glare nearly blinded the boys as they stared upward over the center of the island.
“It’s a small cabin plane-in a terrific power dive!” Tom cried.
“The interceptor drone has made contact,” Bud said elatedly. “It’s forcing the plane down!”
Leaping into a jeep, both boys sped past the two multistage rockets.
“Say, Tom,” Bud asked, “you don’t suppose that pilot was making a suicide attempt to wreck the rocket ships?”
“Possibly,” Tom replied. “Certainly all licensed pilots know that this is a restricted area.”
As the boys roared along the road to the airfield at the east end of the three-mile-long island, the sound of the sirens tapered to a hum.
“They’re landing!” Bud cried.
Tom stopped the jeep and the two boys jumped out. Dead ahead, the fiery red glow of the robot’s light outlined the captive plane as both craft banked in side by side. Tom and Bud watched tensely as the drone, only half the size of the intercepted plane, taxied in with its prize.
The instant the planes stopped, Tom and Bud hurried forward. Tom forced open the cabin door and peered in. The next moment, he drew back and cried:
“The plane’s empty!”
“Empty!” Bud echoed. “Maybe it’s radio-controlled.”
“No, this is an ordinary commercial job,” Tom replied. “Bud, I believe the pilot bailed out before the robot intercepted the plane!”
“There’s a chance, then, that he’s out on the water and may swim to the island!” Bud said.
“A very good chance,” Tom replied grimly. “We’ll search every bit of beach.”
From the hangar he phoned the control tower to sound the alarm which would start an all-out search of the island and the surrounding waters.
“I’ll take a copter up,” Bud said, and ran toward one of the fast, new helicopters.
Speedboats roared into action from the north and south docks, and streaked away from the cone of light that covered the island. They started zigzagging, sweeping the choppy sea with their searchlights.
Meanwhile, on the south beach, Tom, carrying a walkie-talkie to keep in touch with his men, led a ground search party. It included Hank Sterling, chief engineer of the patternmaking division of Swift Enterprises, whose great skill was indispensable to the precision job of rocket building. Tom had moved most of his rocket staff from the Swift Enterprises plant on the mainland, a four-mile-square enclosure of modern laboratories and factories where he and his father carried on their experiments.
Hank scanned the sky. “The plane was coming in a southerly direction,” he said, “so if my theory’s correct, the pilot will be heading for this side.”
“Right!” Tom agreed.
Tom Swift, the nation’s youngest rocket expert,had set up the robot defense on this Atlantic coastal island after entering the world-wide rocket building race. He hoped to be the first person to pilot a rocket into space and circle the earth in a two-hour orbital flight.
The International Rocket Society had formalized the contest by offering a one-hundred-thousand-dollar prize. When rocket research teams in several countries signified their intention to participate, the Defense Department had cooperated by declaring the thumb-shaped island to be a restricted area.
“Some of you comb the ground a few yards inshore,” Tom suggested. “That pilot could be hiding behind one of the low dunes.”
“You’re right,” Hank replied. “Some of those spots provide real foxholes.”
Tom’s search party fanned out and extended the hunt westward. Bud was cruising a short distance offshore, beaming a giant searchlight downward from the helicopter.
Suddenly Tom s walkie-talkie crackled and Bud’s voice came excitedly from the helicopter. “I’ve just spotted him! He’s almost at the shore. Looks all in.”
Rushing to the beach, the searchers followed the beam from the helicopter and spotted the swimmer. The man was trying to combat a heavy surf and was obviously tiring fast. As the stranger’s strength failed, Tom kicked off his shoes, made a long dive into the waves, and with strong strokes soon reached the helpless swimmer.
Holding the stranger’s head above water, he brought him to shore. The man, wearing only shorts and shirt, gave a great sigh, then collapsed on the sand. All efforts to revive him were unsuccessful.
“We’d better carry him to the infirmary and let Dr. Carman take charge,” Tom commented.
Sterling offered to attend to him while Tom went to his room for dry clothing. After he had changed, Tom returned to the hangar to meet Bud. When the helicopter had been berthed, Tom proposed that the boys investigate the mysterious plane brought in by the robot.
“Sure thing,” Bud replied. “There might even be a logbook that will tell us who this guy is. But what I can’t understand is when and why he jumped.”
“Because he figured that swimming in was the only chance he had of getting on the island,” Tom said. “Our radar picks up boats, so he couldn’t have used that method of landing.”
When the boys reached the plane they found a logbook in one of the compartments in the panel board.
“Boston. Eleven p.m.,” Bud read, looking over Tom’s shoulder. “Edward Gates, pilot.”
“Call the dispatcher there and check this, will you, Bud?” Tom said. “I’m going to alert Dad at Shopton.”
Tom quickly telephoned a private number at the Swift Enterprises plant. He asked the operator to put the call through to his home. The elder inventor answered.
“What’s the matter, Tom?”
“I think it’s a sabotage attempt, Dad, but everything is under control.” Tom explained briefly and added, “Our enemies might strike at Shopton too. Better use extra guards.”
“Okay, son. Be careful.”
When Tom hung up, Bud was still on the line to Boston Airport. Checking the log, he was told that the time of departure listed was precisely the same as the dispatcher’s record. Bud questioned the dispatcher further about the plane’s occupant.
“I’d never seen him or his friend at the field before,” the dispatcher said.
“His friend?” Bud echoed. “The log lists only the pilot, Edward Gates!” He told of the single rescue. “Did he have an unlisted passenger?”
“He may have.”
The dispatcher was able to give only a general description of Gates and his unknown companion, but added that Gates spoke with a slight accent and was the taller of the two. Both were dark and of medium build. Bud thanked the man, hung up, and told Tom the startling news.
“Bud! On the double!” the inventor cried. “Get the search party out again! There may be another swimmer coming in. Or he may already be on the island. Warn the guards at the rocket ships and at the lab.”
“Where are you going?” Bud asked, as Tom started off.
“Back to the beach.”
“Not by yourself,” Bud cried. “Hold on, inventor boy. You’re too important around here to be bumped off.”
Tom paused while Bud gave instructions over the loudspeaker for a renewed search. Then, while the sirens wailed once more, the two boys jumped into the jeep and headed for the beach.
Bud, riding on the carrier behind Tom, gripped the spotlight and swung it slowly. The bright beam, shaken by the speeding jeep, moved jerkily along the dunes.
“Tom, look!” Bud cried suddenly. “I just caught a man in the spot beam. He threw himself down the minute the light struck him!”
Tom swung the wheel, and without slackening speed, hurtled the jeep toward the place where Bud was pointing. A hundred yards ahead of them, a dark-haired man, his shirt soaked and his trousers clinging to his skin, crouched in the sand.
CHAPTER 2
THE FUEL KICKER
TOM AND BUD jumped from the jeep and ran toward the half-hidden, bedraggled figure. The man held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I know I’m on restricted ground,” he said in a deep voice with a slight foreign accent. “But my life is more important than anything else.”
The boys were a bit taken aback by this speech. If the man had made an honest error he had nothing to fear.
“Are you Ed Gates?” Tom asked sharply.
The stranger gave a start, then replied, “Why-uh-yes. How did you know?”
“From your log.”
“My plane crashed on the island?” the pilot questioned as if he could not believe it.
“We brought it in,” Tom replied, without explaining how. “Why were you flying in a restricted air zone?”
“Something went wrong. I couldn’t bank away, so I bailed out.”
Tom and Bud exchanged quick looks. Had the stranger really flown toward the island by accident? The young inventor gave the flier his sweater and helped him into the jeep.
“We’ll see that you get transportation to the mainland,” Tom said. “Where are you from?”
“Cincinnati. I fly business planes for the Midwest Steel Corporation.”
As the jeep approached the airstrip, Gates asked, “What happened to my plane?”
“Don’t worry about your plane,” Tom replied. “Aren’t you interested in what happened to your passenger?”
Gates’ face quivered. He gulped. “Passenger?” he repeated.
“Yes. You had another person aboard, although you neglected to log his name.”
The pilot hesitated for several seconds before asking, “Was he picked up?”
“Yes,” Tom answered. “But he’s in bad shape.”
Gates bent forward and clutched his head with both hands, as if overcome with remorse. He kept muttering, “It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault!”
“Why did you fail to enter your friend’s name in the log?” Tom asked.
“Because he wanted to keep the trip a secret from his family,” Gates said quickly.
“What’s your passenger’s name and where’s he from?” Tom asked.
“Arthur Drayton-a salesman from Chicago,” the flier replied. “I’ve flown him several times.”
“Have you your license and other credentials?”
“Right here,” the pilot said, slapping his right hand against an oilskin pouch inside his soaking wet shirt.
“Good. We’ll have a look at them soon,” Tom said. “By the way, why did you both bail out? That wasn’t necessary.”
“We thought so. A plane came right at us, so we parachuted,” Gates replied.
Since Gates apparently had not tried to dodge the robot, Tom’s suspicions were aroused again. As they drove into the hangar, the flier appeared to be very nervous. His hand trembled as he passed over his credentials to Tom.
Everything seemed to be in order, except that there was no photograph of the man. When Tom queried him about this, he replied that he was having a new one made and had thrown the old picture away.
“I’ll leave at once and take Drayton with me,” Gates announced as soon as he had been given dry clothing.
Tom told him that the island’s doctor was taking care of his friend Drayton, who would be moved to the mainland as soon as he was able to travel.
“But I want him to go with me,” Gates said, growing belligerent. “You have no right to keep him here.”
“An unconscious man doesn’t have much choice,” Tom retorted.
Suspicious of the whole episode and wishing to get the stranger away from the rocket project, Tom insisted that Gates depart at once.
“Drayton may come to any time now,” Gates objected. “I ought to get him to a specialist on the mainland.”
Tom decided the matter by telephoning the infirmary. Dr. Carman reported that the strain of combating the rough surf had taxed the patient’s heart and he must not be moved under any circumstances.
“I guess that settles it, Gates,” Tom said with finality. “We’ll gas up your plane if you need it, and you can go-with an escort.”
Gates frowned as Tom whispered to Bud. The latter dashed off, and returned in a few minutes with a stocky blond man about thirty years old.
“This is Phil Radnor of our security police,” Tom said, introducing him to Gates.
Radnor nodded, looked levelly at Gates, and said, “I’ll accompany you to your destination.”
