Tom Swift and His Subocean Geotron (18 page)

"Chum, this
might
be an occasion for some justified cost overruns," Bud wisecracked. "So what is it?"

"It’s a material that’s ultrastrong and resistant to deformation in final form, but completely malleable—bendable and moldable—during certain stages of the production process," was the reply. "It’s a molecular-engineered metal alloy I call metallumin."

"You intend to make the geotron’s hull out of it?" asked Tom’s father.

"It would be an outer shell, fitting right over the existing hull like a second skin, with just a few seams for the tread extenders and the division of the hull. The repelatron spacewave fields pass right through it, of course."

"Sounds great," Bud exulted. "So, I guess you’ll use it to make the Institute’s deep-sea tank out of it, too."

Tom nodded excitedly. "And it’ll turn the tank from just a big container to a real aquarium—because metallumin is as transparent as glass!"

"Hunh? See-through
metal
?" Chow had entered from the galley bearing sandwich nutrition for rescued geonauts. "Mighty fine fer supermarket canned goods, boss."

"But—transparent metal?" Bud’s skepticism was involuntary.

"Why not?" smiled Tom. "Rock is about as opaque as anything, yet it consists of a crystalline structure, though fragmented. You can’t see through a sheet of lead or iron, yet metallic ores are also crystalline, basically."

"It’s all a matter of the mutual orientations of the component lattices," Mr. Swift observed.

"Sure is!" put in the local cook.

"The scattering axis. Applying some of the same methods used in the translimator machine, I was able to ‘build’—from the bottom up, you might say—an alloy whose lattice arrays transmit photons, passing light along almost unimpeded, even through thick sheets. In fact, metallumin is much less reflective or refractive than standard window glass, or even Tomaquartz. Except at sharp edges it’s almost completely invisible to the eye!"

"Okay!" laughed Bud Barclay. "Invest in metal windows!"

Bud’s quip was prophetic. As Tom worked at top speed to redesign the raised but dented geotron, it became evident that the transparent metallumin shell would permit the
Gee
to have true pilot viewports after all, curved contour windows for the pilot compartments, fore and aft.

The other project also went forward. Cyrus Springthorpe was thrilled at the prospect of meeting the Marmor Trust’s deadline. "These sketches you’ve sent are fantastic!" he exulted from the
Luciente
, far distant around the bend of the world. "A walk-through,
see
-through aquarium for the rarest and strangest life forms on Earth!"

"We’ve begun construction at our affiliate, Swift Construction Company," said Tom. "My father is keeping an eye on the aquarium project while I continue with my subocean mission."

"And as to that," came the response, "I think you’ll be interested to hear that the light wheel has been sighted again!"

"Where?"

"The location is the same. We observed it late last night, from a greater distance. It’s hard to believe this phenomenon isn’t connected to your mission—whatever it is you’re after down there on the bottom."

Tom agreed, adding, "My cousin Ed Longstreet has told me of rumors floating around Easter Island. Other sailors have started reporting the wheel. It might be appearing more frequently, getting more active."

"Which means, I gather, that there’s additional pressure on you to continue your search." The young inventor smiled at Springthorpe’s choice of words—
pressure
! "It’s odd, though..."

"What is, sir?"

"That these local rumors haven’t been wafted my way by my friend Rogerio Moreno. He knows of my interest in your project and the possible significance of this phenomenon."

Tom hesitated. He had deduced some things that Springthorpe was unaware of. "Ed has been told he’s gone on temporary medical leave."

"Oh really? I had no idea. Hopefully just some minor matter."

Yet Tom suspected otherwise. Before Lieutenant Moreno, effectively in charge of Chilean police interests on the island, had dropped out of sight, the youth had already spoken of his misgivings to Harlan Ames.

"You think he’s playing with the other side, Tom?" asked the security chief.

"Let’s say some things don’t add up," replied Tom, "things that I’ve had lurking in mind for a while. When we spoke on my second visit to Easter he told me that there was no sign of cult activity; yet I remember Ruykendahl telling me that Moreno had spoken before of current problems of exactly that kind."

"But Nee Ruykendahl is already a suspect himself. He may not be trustworthy."

"That’s true, but there’s another thing. Moreno told me to my face that Halspeth had departed the island the day before Bud and I were hospitalized. Just a few days later, the story had changed. The ‘new reality’ was that they’d been able to question Halspeth, that he’d flown out during our seacopter search. The island airfield authorities confirm the second version."

Ames nodded. "It could hardly have been some sort of innocent error, assuming Halspeth hadn’t flown back to Easter in the interim. Moreno’d be in a great position to work hand in glove with local cultists—or maybe just thugs for hire—and with Halspeth himself. Moreno might have engineered your kidnapping!"

"And now he’s disappeared."

After developing some further plans for investigation with his young boss, Ames said:

"By the way, I just heard from John Thurston. The CIA has been told by government investigators in Mexico that the motel fire business may have importance well beyond the borders of little Las Mambritas."

"How so?"

"Pretty worrisome business," the older man continued soberly. "They’ve found traces of a substance known to intelligence and military circles as
kwanggi
. It’s an advanced pyrolytic agent—a fire accelerant—first developed by China during the Vietnam War era."

"China," Tom repeated grimly. "Betrayed homeland of Comrade-General Li Ching! And we know he has the contacts and technological smarts to find and use such a thing. It sure ties the motor-court fire to the Black Cobra!"

"Kwanggi is impractical for battlefield use because it spreads too slowly and there’s no good way to control its perimeter. It’s like a sort of heavy fog. It spreads along the ground. And it’s hypergolic, Tom. You don’t light it with a match. You wait for the cloud to expand, then you spray a catalyst on some little corner of it—instant flashfire. Everything within the perimeter is utterly incinerated."

"Sounds like an efficient way to get rid of unwanted waste—such as evidence," noted Tom dryly.

One hovering unknown was the size and shape of the crypt. Since the recovery of the complete beacon, Enterprises had exchanged several messages with the Planet X communicators. When Tom described the airlock in the geotron, which in this case would double as a freight hold for the recovered crypt, there was an immediate response.

HIGH PROBABILITY MEMORY CRYPT CAN BE CONTAINED IN THE VOLUME YOU HAVE INDICATED. OBJECT IS STABLE FOR RELOCATION BY TOM SWIFT METHODS WITHOUT HARM TO DATA MEMORY.

WHEN CRYPT IS ABOVE CRUSTAL LAYERS AND CAPABLE OF UNIMPEDED ASCENT WE WILL REMOVE IT FROM YOUR PLANET. REQUIRED THAT YOU PLACE BEACON OBJECT IN IMMEDIATE VICINITY TO ESTABLISH CONDITION PARAMETERS FOR OUR ACTION.

"It seems they plan to use the beacon object as a ‘sight’ to focus their transport mechanism on the crypt," suggested Mr. Swift. "Or it may even function as some sort of antenna or relay device."

Tom agreed. "I’ll bring both Ed’s and Nee’s half-pieces along on the flight and take them aboard the geotron, as well as the complete beacon I found."

"All very efficient," smiled Mr. Swift. "One could almost forget that we haven’t actually found the crypt!"

"I know, Dad. But even though we didn’t detect anything before, I still think that light-wheel phenomenon is a clue. It surely indicates
someone’s
idea of the most likely location. Whether it’s part of the Black Cobra’s search effort or something the Others are doing themselves, I plan to use it as a signpost—whether they like it or not."

Damon Swift gave a warm squeeze to his prodigal son’s shoulder. "Let pirates beware—Tom Swift has the treasure map, marked with a big glowing X!"

Tom laughed. "More like an asterisk!" He couldn’t help adding, mentally:
And asterisks sometimes lead to unexpected footnotes.

Its tests completed, the reworked geotron was freighted to Long Island and at long last was put aboard the
Sea Charger
for fast transport to the Yupanqui Basin area, with its wheels of ghostly sea-fire.

Preparing for his own departure from Shopton two days later, Tom took a call from Milan. "One moment, Mr. Swift," said an accented employee of ZandinAlfaGiovo. "I have here Miss Matopoeia to speak with you."

"Hello, Tom, from Italy," chirped Ona Matopoeia cheerily.

"Hello, ma’am."

"First, I thank you for the reports you have been sending me. I wish to tell you, my own work of detection has found further evidence of questionable conduct by Nee Ruykendahl. Even as he has worked with you, by your side, it seems he has been pursuing contrary interests. It may not be merely a matter of fraud, but a real danger to you and your employees!"

The young inventor’s stomach tightened. "We’re dealing with a lot of that nowadays."

"I’ve just reviewed photographic evidence that Mr. Ruykendahl met with certain unsavory characters while he was on Easter Island with you. These men have been involved in securities fraud and the like, and they are known to be violent—perhaps even murderous. I believe Ruykendahl is seeking investments from dubious sources to keep afloat his cruise business and what is left of his celebrity image. The egotism of the man is boundless!"

"It sounds like you’ve really gotten to know him," Tom commented.

"When one tracks someone so long and far, it’s like a marriage! Tom, I ask you—do you think you can protect yourself? Neither I nor ZAG wish to put your life at risk. Yet admittedly, your watchful eye and close contact could be crucial to the legal case we’re making."

"Miss Matopoeia, we’re used to danger at Swift Enterprises," Tom declared wryly. "He’s kept himself out of the way since we’ve returned to Shopton, but I promised he could accompany us during the next phase of our research project. We all leave again for the South Pacific this evening."

"Then I pray for your safety, Tom. If you have enemies, this vain, desperate man is among them!"

At last confirming word came from Zimby Cox, Tom’s friend and a veteran of many Enterprises oceanic projects, from aboard the
Sea Charger
. Having sped around the bottom corner of South America, the ship was nearing Easter Island and the Yupanqui Basin search area. "See you in a few!" declared Tom happily.

The long arc southward was made in the versatile cycloplane. As Nee Ruykendahl exclaimed and marveled in the back seat, Tom and Bud quietly discussed the mission in guarded language. How much did they dare trust the adventurer, with his celebrated past and shadowed present?

It was night, beneath an overcast Pacific sky, when the
SwiftStorm
began its smooth descent to the deck of the mighty
Sea Charger
.

"Rain, I think," remarked Nee. "Even storm. Nothing to worry about—I’ve been through many and much, and here I sit, not dead, eh? Ruykendahl the survivor!"

Tom and Bud didn’t answer, their eyes drawn to a sudden trace of movement far below.

Then a hazy glow suddenly suffused the cabin as the ocean filled with sweeping bands of luminescence, horizon to horizon!

"Jetz!" cried Bud. "
The Wheel of Light!
"

NEE RUYKENDAHL was not one to be struck speechless. "Incredible!" he cried. "A spinning wheel of the ocean deep! A whirlpool of living light! Or perhaps we should say that those bands are the octopus arms of a plea for help."

"A master of hype," Bud muttered.

Tom studied in silence the weird sight. Springthorpe’s video had failed to capture the wheel’s sheer vastness. The human eye and brain could scarcely cope with the concept of a visible
something
with luminous arms that extended outward mile after mile, engaged in steady rotation.

Ruykendahl was still spreading the pleasure of his own voice. "Ah, ah! What memories. I stood upon a high mountain cleft and gazed out upon a misty valley as the sun rose behind me. My shadow spread wide upon the bank of fog, and suddenly I confronted a thousand-foot giant who mimicked my every move. Gestures of fantastic size,
hie
? Talk about your religious awe, boys! And now I feel the same sort of thing."

The phenomenon was suddenly no more. The sea was a restless sheet of black.

"Was it enough of a signpost, genius boy?" asked Bud.

"We’ll find out. I’ve recorded the precise location of its hub. The
Luciente
was never in a good enough position to pinpoint it. An elevated view is what was needed."

Bud gave his friend a thoughtful look. "Sounds like you think it has a fixed location."

Tom nodded. "Springthorpe’s reports suggested that, even though the coordinates were a little loose. If there’s some kind of craft pursuing a subocean search, it’s focused on a very small area. And that’s exactly where
we’ll
be tomorrow in the geotron."

They made ready to land on the deck of the
Sea Charger
, which was as large as an aircraft carrier. As they swooped down, Bud pointed aft. "There she is, Tom." The
Gee
had been latched to a swing-arm derrick on a floating pad, used for rocket launching, that was separated from the ship.

After greeting Zimby Cox and other Enterprises employees, Tom and Bud—and presumably Nee Ruykendahl—slept the remainder of a fitful night. After breakfast they gathered in the yellow morning light at the side of the waiting geotron.

"You are quite sure there’s no room for Ruykendahl up front in your wheelhouse?" inquired the man in a challenging tone.