The captain said the kidnapers had fled in their own plane by the time the troopers had arrived.
“And there’s more bad news,” he said. “They burned your plane.”
“Burned it?”
“We found nothing but the charred remains.”
“Well,” Tom said ruefully, “that’s better than stealing it. Thanks a lot for the good try.”
Before Tom and his father left the house, Ripcord Hulse arrived in a taxi. He declared himself completely well and ready for the test hop. Over a second breakfast he gave the Swifts some amazing information.
“I’ve just learned,” he said, “that the Air Force deserter I’m trying to find falsified his name and birthplace. He’s a Eurasian by the name of Leeskol. He has joined up with a rebel state in South America called Verano.”
“What!” Tom cried. “He’s probably one of the gang that’s been the cause of our troubles.” At a nod
102 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB
from his father, Tom told Rip some of the details of their secret mission to outwit the rebels.
Mr. Swift mentioned that though rebels the leaders apparently had both sufficient money and education to carry out their plans. It was suspected that they were holding certain top-notch Hemispak scientists from whom they had forced vital information under threats against their families.
“A bad situation,” Rip agreed. “By the way, would you have room for an extra passenger to Verano, if I can persuade Uncle Sam to send me there?”
“Indeed we would,” Mr. Swift replied. “And now for your preview of the Sky Queen.”
About a half-hour later when they reached the second level of the mammoth ship, Tom unlocked the door to the laboratory and rolled back the fireproof door. Rip stared in astonishment. Then, as they went from one laboratory section to another, he exclaimed:
“Why, this is fabulous!” he gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“You sure haven’t,” said a voice behind him and Chow came in. Tom introduced him. “This ole lab,” the cook went on, “has got more bottles than the biggest drugstore in the world. An’ look at them tools!” He pointed to one wall of the laboratory. “If there’s one kind missin’ from that there collection
well, brand my cactus, I’ll eat a pound o’ Texas sand!”
Another section of the laboratory was given over to numerous machines ranging from tiny scales to an
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ore crusher. Many of them were unknown to Rip, who shook his head in wonder at the neat arrangement of the manually and electronically operated devices.
“Tom, kin I show Mr. Hulse the lights?” begged Chow boyishly.
“Sure. Go ahead.”
Chow went from one battery of lights to another. The Swifts were amazed that he had picked up so much information from listening to the engineers when the various switches had been installed.
“This little fellow”the cook pointed to a midget green bulb“that don’t connect to nothin’, jest needs impulses out o’ the air to make it light up. An’
this giant hereshut your eyes, Mr. Hulseit’s fearful powerful.”
The pilot did so, and Tom explained that this was really his father’s giant searchlight with a few new improvements, and no one would use it unless he was wearing special lenses to protect his eyes.
“What’s this gadget?” Rip asked as the tour neared an end.
“The Swift Spectrograph,” Tom answered, unable to keep a note of pride from his voice. “In a matter of a split second you can analyze anything, including radioactive ore.”
“Well, all I can say is, congratulations.” Rip grasped Tom’s hand. “I’d call this a scientist’s dream come true.”
Tension and excitement ran high at the Swift Enterprises as news spread that the giant craft would be given its test hop the next morning. Tom and his 104 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB
father met Rip Hulse and Bud at the plant early, with all the engineers and mechanics on hand.
After a last-minute checkup in the underground hangar, Tom turned a switch on a wall panel. As if by magic the roof slowly split in two. Huge gears lifted half the structure to one side, the other half in the opposite direction.
“Okay,” Tom shouted to one of his engineers. “Ready for the elevator.”
Slowly the hydraulic lifts pushed up the floor beneath the Sky Queen. When the edge of the floor came even with the ground level, the elevator stopped.
Four rubber-tired tractors pulled the plane out to the flying field.
“What a beauty!” Rip exclaimed. “Even better than the preview, Tom!”
Engineers and workmen exclaimed over the giant plane as it was towed to a specially marked spot on the runway. The area, a quarter of a mile square, was made of special ceramic brick to withstand the blasts of the atomic lifters.
The onlookers, standing at a safe distance to avoid being burned, cheered and shouted as Tom and the others went to their designated places. Tom took the pilot’s seat, Rip the copilot’s seat. Bud stood directly behind them.
Mr. Swift had decided to station himself in the laboratory where he could watch the reaction of the flight on the various chemicals, bottled liquids, and the electronic equipment. Everyone flipped on his intercom phones, and Bud took charge of the one to
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the plant, so that Tom could give his undivided attention to the test.
“Chow, are you in the galley?” Bud asked.
“Yes, Bud. But brand my maverick, I’m shakin’ like a bowl o’ jelly.”
Before starting the ascent, Tom flipped on the audiogyrex, which he had designed to eliminate the elevator sensation in rapid rising. Then, gripping the throttle, Tom poured atomic power into the jet lifters. As the crescendo of sound increased to a frightening roar, the Flying Lab began to rise. In a matter of seconds it was shooting skyward.
“We’re airborne!” Bud cried jubilantly. “Oh, brother, did we leave old Earth in a hurry!”
At two thousand feet Tom eased off on the lifters. The mammoth craft stood still in the air, as if supported by an invisible giant’s hand.
“Dad, we’ve done it!” Tom exclaimed, gazing down at the cheering throng far beneath them.
“We have, son!” came the excited reply over the intercom. “Your invention is another great step in scientific advancement.”
“What about the laboratory?” Tom asked.
“Everything took that sudden rise as well as we did. Those pressurizers are beyond expectation.”
Rip slapped Tom on the shoulder. “Magnificent! This will be a great boon to the defenses of our country,” he commented.
Bud leaned forward. “I didn’t think you could do it, Tom. This plane is just one step this side of a trip to the planets.”
106 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB
“Hold on! Not so fast!” Tom laughed. “Verano first.”
Bud was now listening to Hank Sterling on the ground. He relayed the message.
“The crowd down there can’t believe what you’ve done, Tom. And do you know what?” he added with a chuckle. “You’ve tied up automobile traffic for miles around. People are parked on all the roads, looking up at you.”
Tom grinned. “We’ll give ‘em another show in a minute.”
Assured that all parts of the plane were functioning smoothly, he applied the forward thrust. As Bud watched the air-speed indicator he gasped. In a matter of seconds, it seemed, the Flying Lab was cutting through the air at a thousand miles an hour.
“Great day!” he cried. “You could get around the world before sunset!”
“Better throttle back, Tom,” Rip advised. “This is only a test.”
“Right.”
“And I’d advise you to take her up higher, before your enemies catch on to all this.”
“Okay.”
To the spectators below, the big plane suddenly looked like a meteor in reverse. The lifters accelerated the Flying Lab so fast that it was out of sight in thirty seconds.
“S-stopstop!” Chow shouted from the galley. “Brand my dogies, I don’t have enough food for a trip to Mars.”
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“Then we’ll stop off at the moon for supplies,” Bud answered.
The plane’s altimeter suddenly stopped at fifty thousand feet, then began to register a drop. Torn knew after a quick glance at the instrument panel that they were in trouble.
“What’s the matter?” came Mr. Swift’s anxious voice from the laboratory.
“I’ve burned out half of the jet lifters,” his son answered solemnly. “I guess the metal they’re made of can’t take that terrific heat.”
Instantly he resumed horizontal flight.
“I’d better take her down immediately,” he said. “No telling what effect it may have had on the rest of the ship.”
“Yes. Don’t take any unnecessary chances,” Mr. Swift said, adding, “Everyone fasten his safety belt.”
Rip was frowning. “Is your runway long enough to land this big ship under horizontal power?” he asked, plainly worried.
“It wasn’t designed to handle anything this big,” Tom replied, “but”
He quickly gave Bud a message to relay to Hank: “Clear the field and prepare for an emergency landing. Jet lifters conked out.”