Tom Swift and His Space Solartron Read Online Free PDF Page A

probing—but there’s sure no good reason for somebody to go pointing an antenna our way."
    Ted inquired whether any of the work being done at the Citadel was classified, or of a confidential nature. "Strictly speaking, no," was the reply, "at least not at the moment. But if someone’s listening in on our conversations or trying to find out the details of the solartron—which is possible—then who knows what they might resort to next."
    Chow snorted. "Brand my spyglass, boss, one o’ these days you oughta invent somethin’ nobody wants, jest to keep the spies out of it!" They all laughed—Tom with an occasional wince.
    "Good thing no reporter is taking this down for ForeSite," Bud remarked with a grin. "He’d think we came out here for a lowbrow gag session instead of a scientific project."
    "ForeSite?" Ted inquired. "What’s that?"
    "A new magazine our company’s putting out," Tom explained. "An ‘e-magazine’—a website, in other words. It’ll be mainly a technical journal, with papers contributed by our research staff and engineers, but there’ll be other features too."
    "With a real eye-catching homepage logo," Bud boasted. "Bashalli designed it." Bashalli Prandit was a talented sketch artist and art student enrolled at a school near Shopton, and a close friend. "Only trouble is"—he pretended to shake his head in disgust—"I’m afraid the rest of the site may spoil all the good-looking artwork."
    "How come?" asked Ted with a puzzled look.
    "Oh, the technical stuff isn’t so bad, but there’s one article that’ll really make the readers turn blue. It’s chockful of Greek-letter formulas and Einstein equations by some decrepit fogy named, lemme see, Tom Swift."
    The next moment Bud ducked as Tom let fly another pillow. "Just for that I’ll make you read it!" Tom vowed.
    "Then best do it right quick, afore you run out o’ pillows!" Chow recommended with a throaty western chortle.
    At this point a nurse looked into the room and regarded them sternly. "Visiting time is over, you three. You’re wearing out my patient."
    "Only fair," Bud retorted. "This jumping genius here wore out my patience years ago!"
    As Chow served breakfast to Ted and Bud the next morning in the small private dining room, they were surprised and delighted as Tom came strolling in as if nothing had happened. There were still some small bandages on his forearms, face, and the back of his right hand, but he was obviously stronger and in good spirits. "Don’t worry, folks—my deep-set blue eyes made it through just fine! Seriously, they say I won’t have any scars."
    "But what caused the problem, anyway, T-man?" asked Ted.
    "Power overload, and in a big way," the young inventor explained. "One of the transformers was out of sync, but Chuck has already repaired and tested it."
    "Sounds like you’re back in business, skipper!" Bud offered jovially.
    "Sure am," Tom confirmed. "I’m ready to pick up where I left off, with my full-power test. Come on, if you guys want to watch oxygen and history being made!"

CHAPTER 4
SPACEWARD BOUND
    TOM led Bud, Ted, and Chow to his laboratory, which had been cleaned up and restored to sterile normalcy by Chuck Thornton and the other technicians. The aluminum connector bars had been replaced and carefully tested, and the first-try matter maker was ready and waiting for its creator.
    Chow addressed the machine suspiciously. "You in a good mood t’day, Matty-Matt?"
    "Matty looks all shined up and ready for business," Bud remarked.
    "Tom, since you want me to get the hang of this invention of yours, what exactly is the basic approach?" asked Ted Spring. "Just how do you go about making matter?"
    "That’s what I cain’t figger myself," Chow declared with a scratch to his bald head. "Sounds like you’re gonna make stuff to eat out o’ ee-lec-tricity. But boss, how’m I s’posed to fry up a bunch o’ volts and the like in my fryin’ pan? Tell me that and we’ll both know!"
    Tom spoke as he