Tom Swift and His Megascope Space Prober Read Online Free PDF Page B

almost out of runway!" Mr. Swift murmured.
    Tom applied brakes harder and harder. Just short of the boundary, the craft finally stopped, bowed forward, and fell back.
    Bud mopped his pale forehead, then pumped Tom’s hand in silent gratitude.
    Mr. Swift patted his son quietly on the back. "Well done," he said. "Masterful flying, Tom."
    "Tom—and Bud ," the youth retorted, thinking: Bud—soon to be off in space far far away.
    The three climbed out and Tom immediately started tracing the cause of the trouble. As emergency vehicles roared up, Tom was pointing at the underhull of the fuselage. A dark oval discoloration stood out against the silver white.
    "More of the cold-scorching?" Bud asked, crouching down next to Tom.
    Tom nodded. "Worse, too. The beam affected the fuselage coating as it penetrated. And right here― "
    "I know," said the youthful pilot. "Those smart-metal servoflexor rods of yours. I’ll bet we’ll find a pile of metal flakes when we open her up."
    Tom snorted. "Flyboy, we can open her up right now!" He poked a finger into the discolored patch—and the metal shattered like a thin piecrust.
    "This couldn’t have happened more than seconds before the stick froze up," declared Tom, as puzzled as he was angry. "That means they must have been in a boat down below, zapping us just as we banked over for that last loop. Some kind of speedboat, probably—they tailed us in parallel as best they could. They’d hardly have been able to keep pace, but the device must work over quite a distance, miles apparently, with a precise focused aim like a laser beam."
    Mr. Swift had broken away from directing the emergency crew long enough to overhear Tom’s remark. "But the question remains, what tipped them off to our trip?"
    Tom shrugged. "For all we know they have operatives ready for action in every big city on the Atlantic coast!"
    "Right—‘ evil operators are standing by’! " Bud snorted.
    That evening Sandy was thrilled when she learned that Bud was going on the Venus probe project. "This calls for a farewell celebration!" she decided implacably.
    "Dear, if I might make a suggestion," said Mrs. Swift, "why not combine your farewell party with the welcome home party for the Sterlings?"
    Hank Sterling, Enterprises’ young chief engineer and a close friend of the Swifts and Bud Barclay, had just flown back to Shopton from a long vacation trip to South America with his wife and children. With their usual aplomb, Sandy and Bashalli had already taken charge of planning a celebratory gala at Range View Inn in the hills on the far side of Lake Carlopa. "Mother, what a wonderful idea!" Sandy bubbled. "Tomonomo, why don’t you come up with ideas like this?"
    Tom grinned. "Sorry, San. Guess I’m just not the imaginative type."
    The event had been scheduled for the day before Bud was to report to Cape Canaveral. Range View Inn, isolated among the pines, catered to hikers and flying enthusiasts. The inn maintained its own small flying field on level ground nearby.
    The appointed day arrived. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, Tom’s parents, and the many other guests decided to take the drive up to enjoy the scenery. Bud Barclay’s parents, and his much-older sister and brother, had flown in from San Francisco and would be driving up by rented car.
    Tom, Bud, Bashalli, and Sandy decided to fly. They whooshed off from the Enterprises airfield in a small jet-assisted helicopter called the Skeeter Two . In a handful of minutes the jetrocopter had crossed Lake Carlopa with Sandy, a trained and certified pilot, at the controls.
    "Is it my imagination, Sandra, or are you taking us on a rather circuitous route?" inquired Bashalli. "Surely the point of air travel is to proceed along a straight line?"
    Sandy answered, "This is what Big Brother asked me to do. For safety."
    "The ray-gunners seem to know right away where we’re going and what we’re doing," Tom pointed out. "But unless they can read minds, they can’t anticipate a