Tom Swift in the Race to the Moon by Victor Appleton II

Author:Victor Appleton II
Language: zul
Format: epub
Published: 2013-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

THE FINAL TEST

AS TOM, Bud, and Hank stood boggling at the disaster, emergency vehicles with blaring sirens came charging out onto the airstrips and launch areas—firetrucks and ambulances. All about, stunned ground crewmen stood gaping at the damage.

"What happened?" Bud demanded faintly, horrified.

"This flying powerhouse of ours practically flattened everything in sight," Hank replied.

Shocked by the sight, Tom said dolefully, "No doubt about the cause. When we rose, the buildings took a massive blast of repulsion force—an even stronger thrust from the repelatrons than the ground did, because they were closer."

"But weren’t the repelatrons tuned to repel only the elements in the ground?" Bud asked.

Tom nodded unhappily. "Right, but those same elements are present in the building materials, asphalt, concrete, glass—almost everything around us. The computer was supposed to have adjusted each repelatron radiator to exclude the waveforms of specific combinations we didn’t want to repel—"

Hank sighed, dismayed and disgusted. "We thought we’d overcome this problem with the new circuitry, but the interference from such a huge number of sources must’ve overwhelmed the analyzers. Now, the repelatrons aren’t being selective enough—the space-wave pattern is too general."

"Does this mean—the trip’s off?" asked Bud. "Do the Brungarians win this one?"

"We can’t allow them to," stated Tom firmly. "This damage here on Fearing is nothing compared to the catastrophe an alien contagion could cause!"

"Then I’m putting all bets on my pal!" Bud declared with a reassuring grin.

"Any way to correct the problem?" Hank asked Tom. "I’m stumped."

The young inventor shrugged. "I’ll have to redesign the radiators, so they’ll direct the repulsion wave downward in a much narrower, focused beam. But it’ll take time and we may not have much time left." Tom leaned over the edge and yelled down to one of the employees he knew, "Anyone hurt, Narsa?"

"I think not, Tom. Nearly everyone was outside watching the take-off when the walls started to crumble."

Fortunately, the only injuries were minor cuts and bruises from falling fragments, and the damage to the buildings mostly involved the older structures left from the island’s earlier use by the United States military. A work crew was promptly organized to clear away the debris.

Meanwhile, Tom gave orders for the repelatron radiators to be removed from the ship. One was carted to Tom’s private laboratory, where the young scientist-inventor worked the night through, determined to correct the radiator design as quickly as possible.

By morning he had worked out an improved antenna-reflector design and turned it over to Fearing’s large machine shop facility for immediate production and substitution onto all the repelatron units. Yawning, Tom leaned back in his chair and stretched his weary muscles. Suddenly a voice behind him said:

"How about a nice juicy steak to warm up your innards, pardner?"

Looking around, Tom saw Chow Winkler waddling into the laboratory.

"Sounds mighty tempting, Chow, but I still have some things to attend to."

"Now don’t argue, son," the old Westerner protested. "Besides, I got a mystery fer you to clear up. I kinda think it might be important."

"A mystery?" Tom frowned, thinking: just what I need!

"That’s sure what I’d call ’er, boss.

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