Tom covered his eyes with his hands.
“Ow! Those colors really dazzlel” Then he added warmly, “It’s great to see you, Chow. We’ve missed you.”
Chow, whose real name was Charles, had been a chuck-wagon cook in the Southwest for many years. He had become acquainted with Tom and his father while they were working on atomic research near a ranch at which Chow was employed at the time. It had not been long before he and Tom had become fast friends, and when the Swift expedition returned North, Chow had attached himself to the party.
“Say, a feller at the gate put this lil ole good-luck charm on my arman electric whatchamacallit!”
“You mean one of our electronic amulets.” Tom laughed. “Without that little bracelet, Chow, you’d have our radarscopes working overtime.”
“How come?” Chow asked.
“It sounds complicated, but it’s really simple,” Tom explained. “The little bracelet traps radar im-e TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB
pulses and keeps them off our scopes. There’s a giant scope on top of the main building now for everyone to see, and a special one down here in the office for the underground hangar.
“So,” Tom went on, as Chow looked perplexed, “anyone who doesn’t wear an amulet causes a little dot of light to show up on one scope or the other. That’s how we can tell if a spy has sneaked in.”
“Well, your ole radar kin have the day off, far as I’m concerned.” Chow chuckled. “Jest thought I’d come ‘round an’ find out how you-all are.”
“Wait until you see what we’ve set up for you in the Flying Lab,” Tom said. “By the way, we’re calling it the Sky Queen. Our three-decker has everything, including”
“Three-decker? You mean this here Sky Queen has three floors?” Chow leaned so far back to look up at the big ship that he almost fell over on his balding head.
“That’s right,” Tom answered. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
He climbed a ladder through a hatch beneath the wings. Chow followed.
“This first level is partly for storage,” Tom explained as they stood inside.
“We’ll keep spare equipment, experimental supplies, and luggage down here.
But look back in this end. See those sliding doors to the outside? Behind the doors is our hangar. We’re going to carry two baby aircrafta small jet plane we call the Kangaroo Kub and a jet-lifted helicopter, the Skeeter.”
A MESSAGE FROM SPACE 9
Chow’s eyes widened. Then he said, “Where’s the galley? We got to eat!”
“We’ll come to it.”
Next, they went up a flight of narrow, steel-ribbed stairs and into the largest sector of the ship’s interior. Forward was the control room containing the pilot’s and copilot’s seats. Every bit of wall space was covered with dials, switches, and gadgets. Chow rubbed his eyes.
“Say, you’ll need a big crew to push an’ pull all those buttons an’ levers.”
Tom smiled. “Chow, this is so simply arranged that the Sky Queen could almost fly itself. The only men who’ll be on the ship are Dad, my friend Bud Barclay, and you and I.”
The cook, utterly amazed, shook his head.
“Where’s the laboratory itself?”
“Mid-fuselage. It’s partitioned off from the rest of the ship and is a soundproof, air-conditioned room, or series of rooms. One’s my physics lab, another’s for chemistry. Then there’s a place for experiments with animals”
“Hold on!” Chow begged. “We goin’ to carry a zoo along?”
Tom laughed. “Some day perhaps.”
He slid back the door and switched on a light. The huge room was partitioned off into cubicles with walls shoulder high. Chow gazed in awe at the physics division with its six-foot electron microscope and X ray, ultraviolet and infrared absorption apparatus.
fll
10 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB
He shook his head. “Mighty fine,” he said, “but it’s beyond me. I’ll stick to my galley. Where is it?”
Tom chuckled at the cook’s impatience as he led the way to the third deck.
Forward was a comfortable windowed lounge, complete with easy chairs and a small library of scientific books and magazines. Back of this were the sleeping quarters, and in the rear was the galley. Chow surveyed the layout of modern equipment in pleased astonishment.
“Well, brand my skillet!” he said. “Will I cook up some fancy dishesl”
He was about to inspect his new quarters when Mr. Swift called up anxiously from the first deck. “Tom! Tom! Come to my office! Quick!”
Tom raced down the stairways and ladder and across the concrete floor to the office where his father stood with a smashed cathode-ray tube in his hands.
“What’s up, Dad?”
“Our radar equipmentit’s been broken!” Mr. Swift exclaimed. “And look at the time chart. An intruder was registered at 3:19 A.M.!”
“Someone without an amulet broke in here?” Tom cried incredulously.
Mr. Swift’s face was stern. “Yes. And according to the time chart on the radar, someone who was looking around for five minutes before he broke the radar apparatus. No telling how long he was here after that, nor what it was he wanted.”
“He’s not hiding aboard the Flying Lab,” Tom remarked. “I’ve just been all over her. Say, it’s funny no one reported a dot on the outdoor radarscope.
Maybe the intruder’s still around!”
A MESSAGE FROM SPACE 11
As Mr. Swift picked up the telephone to alert their private police, Tom rushed from the office and up the steps to the ground level. Dashing outdoors, he looked around.
By this time a number of uniformed guards were running to prearranged posts to investigate. Others were speeding away in cars so that every bit of the four-mile-square enclosure would be covered.
Tom stopped one of the guards and asked whether anything had been picked up on the master scope. The man said nothing had, and hurried away.
“The grounds are well covered,” Tom remarked to himself. “But the spare-parts warehouseno one’s looking there!”
Tom ran to the big storage shed and hurried inside. He was just in time to see a short young man with sleek black hair turn and plunge out of a rear door.
The man disappeared near some empty packing cases.
Tom raced after him. He was searching among the big crates when he heard a noise behind him. Turning, he caught a glimpse of glittering dark eyes.
Then came a crashing blow on his head. Tom sank to the ground unconscious!
CHAPTER II
SNEAK ATTACK
AS THE GUARDS fanned out over the grounds, Tom’s father hurried up the hangar steps, opened the door, and looked around. A plant policeman, running toward him, cried out excitedly:
“No one’s been caught yet, Mr. Swift, and the men found the big radarscope disconnected.”
“What!”
“They’ve reported it to the engineers.”
“Good! Where’s Tom?”
Mr. Swift questioned several guards. In the excitement of the search not one of them had noticed the young inventor. Fearful that Tom might have stumbled into trouble, he was about to start a search of his own when a familiar voice hailed him.
“Mr. Swift! What’s all the excitement about? That hole in the airfield, guards running around like crazy”
The speaker was rugged Bud Barclay, Tom’s best friend and copilot, whose family lived in San Fran-12
SNEAK ATTACK 13
cisco. Bud had been out testing the midget helicopter which was to go aboard the Flying Lab.
Mr. Swift hurriedly explained the morning’s excitement.
“I’ll help you hunt,” Bud offered.
The nearest building was the large spare-parts shed. Dashing to the rear of it, he saw three guards combing the interior.
Outside were several empty packing cases. As Bud approached them, he tripped over a heavy tarpaulin bunched on the ground. Something beneath it moved! Tearing the canvas aside, Bud stared in shocked amazement.
Tom lay there unconscious!
Bud quickly examined his friend. Then he called a guard from inside the building to summon Mr. Swift.
“Tom’s hurt!” he cried out.
Three minutes later the man returned, bringing the boy’s father with him. Bud was already giving first aid. Mr. Swift asked the guard to fetch some cold water and a restorative. When these were brought, he administered them to the unconscious boy.
In a few moments Tom sat up and looked around dazedly.
“Are you all right?” his father and Bud asked anxiously.
“I think so. That guy really clipped me.”
“What guy?” Bud demanded.
“The one I was chasing. I figured he was the fellow who’d been in our office.”
14 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB
Bud tried to grasp the edge of the cockpit and “What did he look like?” Mr. Swift asked.
“Thin, dark, short. About twenty-five. Had black hair and dark eyes.”
Mr. Swift immediately sent the guard to give Tom’s description of the intruder to all employees at the plant.
Bud Barclay suddenly let out a cry. “Say, I left the Skeeter over in the woods beyond the runways. If that guy can fly, he may try to get away in it!”