Tom Swift and the Cosmic Astronauts by Victor Appleton II

Author:Victor Appleton II
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

TWO LOST TREKKERS

THE WEIRD plume of material, glittering in the harsh space sunlight and slightly luminous against the ebony background, spread rapidly in all directions.

"Nothing on radar," Tom murmured. "The telespectrometers read blank."

In moments the hazy cloud had rushed against the hull of the Challenger. It bounced off like a fine spray, swooshing up, down, and around until the spaceship was completely surrounded.

"I can hardly see it now," stated Felix as the cloud spread and thinned.

"But I’m sure it’s still there," Tom said.

"Wa-aal brand me fer a liar, boss, ain’t we got repelly-trons all over this space scow?" demanded Chow. "Let’s jest slough it off!"

Hank answered for his young employer and friend. "Chow, we can’t tune the repelatrons to it if we can’t tell what it’s made of."

"It’s like it isn’t there," said Bud. Then he added in a tentative voice: "But skipper… something about it seemed kind of familiar."

"Yes, I thought so as well," Felix declared. "I can’t put a finger on it, though."

"I know what it looks like," pronounced Tom decisively. "It looks a lot like that icy mist we ran into near the disappearing iceberg. But I don’t plan to stick around to study and speculate, not with that vulture hanging out there." The phantom rocket was standing-to a couple hundred feet off the Challenger’s "front porch" launching deck.

Tom fed a burst of power into the repelatrons that were still facing the earth. There was no response!

"Ain’t we gonna hightail it out, like you said?" asked Chow nervously.

Tom only frowned, eyes fixed to the control readouts. Bud followed his chum’s gaze and said in puzzled tones, "No problem with power—the ’trons are getting a full load. Where’s the hangup, Tom?"

"Near as I can tell," replied the young inventor, "the repelatron waves aren’t penetrating that floating stuff. The field itself may be getting through, but it’s not coherent. Out of focus and not maintaining element configuration."

Hank nodded in grim understanding. "So it’s not reacting against Earth."

"Are you saying, then, that we are adrift?" asked Felix Ming.

"I’m afraid so, for the moment." Trying to remain calm, Tom turned his attention to the communications panel. But repeated attempts to contact either Fearing or the space outpost raised only silence. "Nothing’s getting through. And you know what? Thanks to the particle cloud, I’ll bet the Challenger has disappeared from radar, too."

"Good grief!" Bud gulped in dismay. "They’ll thing we blew up or something!"

"Now look, ever’body, jest settle yer blood on down and let Tom think," commanded Chow with authority. "Don’t jostle him. He’ll get us out of this."

Felix gestured toward the viewpanes. "Look, the Fanshen is moving." The mystery ship was rotating, turning its nose away from the Challenger and revealing its stern propulsion assembly.

Tom’s scientific curiosity couldn’t help but break through. "Funny looking thrust tubes, don’t you think, Hank? Doesn’t look like conventional deflection cowlings."

"But not like ion drive or anything similar, either," commented Arv Hanson. "In any event, they’re leaving the scene of the crime." Powerful rocket blasts, bright as magnesium flares, erupted from the thrust tubes, and the phantom began to accelerate away.

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