Tom Swift and His Electronic Retroscope (4 page)

"Primitive nonsense," muttered Hutchcraft.

But Tom accepted the chief’s request gracefully. "We may need a little extra luck," he told his companions with a chuckle.

The entire tribe gathered around the stone fireplace in the center of the village. All bowed their heads as a priest of the native race, passing through from a church in another small village some miles distant, blessed the guests from America and offered prayers in Spanish.

"The imported faith of the new society," commented Castillez softly. "For these people, all that has happened in Mexico since the time of Hernan Cortés is recent! Now you will see a remaining trace of the old religion, which the Europeans were never able to extinguish."

A Maya, taller than the others, stepped forward. He wore arm bands of worked metal, shell necklaces, a skirt made of jaguar skin, and a parrot-feather headdress.

"Now the real show begins," Hutchcraft whispered contemptuously to the other Americans as he stood a ways back. "This fellow is a shaman, a medicine man. He and his sort cling stubbornly to the pagan practices of their ancestors. The Church tolerates it. Not that they have much choice."

Several native bearers brought a large flat stone for the medicine man to stand on, He mounted it and began to utter an incantation in what Castillez explained was the old Mayan tongue, much corrupted with time.

Suddenly Tom’s eyes bulged in surprise. The stone bore a number of odd carved symbols, which the young inventor had at first assumed were purely decorative. But as he looked more closely they began to appear strangely familiar.
Good night!
he thought excitedly.
Space symbols! I’m sure of it!

Groupings of similar symbols, mathematical concepts expressed through geometrical figures, had been found on a missile from outer space which had landed on the grounds of Swift Enterprises under the exacting direction of unknown extraterrestrials. Tom and his father had managed to decode the message and to reply by means of a powerful radio transmitter. Later, signals had been picked up with a special receiving antenna, using an oscilloscope-type imaging screen. Assisted by a slowly-growing "space dictionary" in computer form, they had become increasingly proficient at interpreting the halting, strangely oblique messages from space.

Almost without realizing it, Tom stepped forward to get a better look at the stone. The carvings on it were faint, almost weathered away.

A muscular native grabbed his arm and jerked him back. "Do not interrupt the sacred ceremony!" the man hissed in broken Spanish.

Tom waited tensely for the ceremony to end. He could hardly contain his curiosity as questions surged into his mind.

Was he mistaken about the carved symbols on the stone? Or were they really the same as those used in messages from his space friends? If so, how had they happened to appear in this remote jungle village?

Bud inched close and nudged his pal. "Am I seeing things?" he whispered. "Those carvings—"

"We’ve got to find out!" Tom murmured with fierce intensity. "We may have stumbled on a fantastic discovery!"

"WHAT’S wrong, boss?" Chow Winkler asked, approaching and noting Tom’s puzzled frown.

"Take a look," Tom whispered, pointing to the stone on which the medicine man was standing. "Do those carvings strike you as familiar?"

Chow gasped in amazement. Doc Simpson was also dumbfounded as his eyes followed Chow’s pop-eyed stare. Both recognized the symbols immediately.

"Brand my buckboard!" Chow muttered under his breath. "They look jest like the stuff that comes through on the space TV—them squiggly pictures!"

Tom nodded. "I certainly want to get a closer look."

As soon as the Mayan medicine man finished his incantation, the bearers lifted the stone to take it away. Tom touched Hu-Quetzal’s arm.

"May I see the carvings on that stone? I find them very interesting."

The
ahau
’s eyes narrowed. He pondered a moment, then said,
"Muy bien."
He signaled the bearers to bring the stone over to Tom, adding, "But remember,
mi amigo,
you are gazing on our most sacred possession."

Sacred! This made the find even more important, Tom thought.

He bent low and scrutinized the carvings. Some of the symbols were so weathered and faded that they could hardly be seen. But calling upon his memory, Tom was able to decipher at least part of the inscription. His heart beat with a thrill of discovery!

Looking up at Ahau Quetzal, Tom pointed to one cluster of interlocked symbols. "
‘Fifty of us came here without mishap’
."

The effect on the chief was amazing! His month dropped open and an expression of awe and fear came into his eyes. Grabbing Tom by the arm, Quetzal drew him aside from the crowd of natives. "You are right!" he gasped. "But how did your eyes know of this, Tom-Swift? Can you read this writing carved by our ancestors many great-suns ago?"

"Some, but not all of it," Tom replied. "You see, I have received messages in such writing myself—from people somewhere in the sky."

"In the sky?" The man looked at Tom blankly. "Do you mean, perhaps, some planet in space?"

Tom grinned at his own assumptions. Using simple terms, Tom summarized the history of the communications received from the friendly space scientists, which both he and his father were certain came from other-worldly beings possibly stationed on the planet Mars.

Chief Quetzal’s eyes grew wider and wider as he listened, even though it was clear that he failed to understand all of what Tom was saying.

"Do you say that some of our ancestors came from the far-place on the other side of the sky? A planet? But it must be so!" Quetzal exclaimed proudly. "This stone has always belonged to my people. Unfortunately," he added sadly, "we have lost the voice of the old ones. The meaning of only one other part of the stone-words has come to us from the ancients."

Pointing to another group of symbols on the stone, Quetzal translated: "
‘Now we will hunt for the rest of the
ixtchacpul.’ Do you understand that word from our old language? It is—it is like—" Frustrated, he curtly waved for Professor Castillez to join them and supply the translation.

"Ixtchacpul?" repeated Castillez. "Oh yes—many long boats with armed men, moving together down a river.—ah!
Armada!"

"An armada of spaceships from another planet!" Tom burst out excitedly. A fleet manned by space beings must have landed in the jungle centuries ago! Was it possible that these space people were so similar to humans that they had intermarried with people who had lived here originally, and were the ancestors of this particular tribe? He dismissed the thought as an impossibility. Yet it crept back upon him.

Tom asked the
ahau
if he could tell him any legends about his ancestors coming to Yucatan, or where the sacred stone came from. But Hu-Quetzal shook his head.

"I can not do it. There are so many old stories, mixed-up, with parts missing as from a jaguar’s bite. One thing I do not understand," he went on. "Why did my people long ago write with these signs, to tell those coming after of these things that happened? They are not like the picture writing the rest of the old firstfathers used."

"It was the space people themselves who left this message," Tom answered. "They may have wished that, if others of their kind came here, they would know what became of the first ones. The space people know that mathematics is the only exact ‘language’—a language which never changes, not even over thousands of years. I believe they wrote in these symbols so that people from any planet at any time could read and translate the message, even though the visitors could not speak or write any earth language."

The chief sighed and looked at Tom with great respect. "You are no doubt right, young one." It was plain that he was very much impressed by the young inventor’s knowledge. "It is said that once we Maya knew much of numbers and such things, and could tell the risings of the moon and the paths of the stars. So much has been lost,
uuhma."

Tom’s brain was seething with excitement. What had happened to the space voyagers? Had part of the armada been wrecked during the jungle landing?
Perhaps traces of their spacecraft could still be found!

Aloud, he said to Ahau Quetzal, "Perhaps your ancestors left other carved stones or relics. May we search the forest?"

The chief shrugged. "The government of Mexico has laws about such things. You must get their permission to do any digging."

"I am empowered to grant the necessary permission," stated Castillez, who had listened with growing astonishment. "I hereby do so."

"We will act with great care and respect!" Tom promised.

Meanwhile, Hutchcraft had been watching the muted conversation from a distance with great curiosity. As the ceremonial rock-slab was carried off to its sacred repository, he plied Bud, Chow, and Doc with questions, trying to find out the reasons for Tom’s interest in the sacred stone. But they politely, or less-than-politely, dodged his queries, thinking it wiser not to reveal any information of importance without Tom’s permission.

"Guess it’s time we started for the
Queen,"
Tom said when he finally rejoined them. "The Professor says he is happy to lend his truck to us. It’s parked just off the road. Do you care to come along, Mr. Hutchcraft?"

"Thank you, but no—I might as well begin my work here," replied the linguist. "Watch out for our friend the jaguar!"

"If you don’t need my help, Tom, I’d prefer to stay behind too," Doc stated. "I have in my bag all I need to start off—" There was a sudden interruption. Led by Chief Quetzal, an odd delegation was approaching them.

"Jetz and super-jetz!" Bud exclaimed involuntarily, the only circumstance under which such an exclamation could ever be uttered.

The delegation consisted of five little Maya men, the same that had been introduced to the visitors before. But in place of their usual rough-cotton shorts, the small natives were now wearing ill-fitting city business suits!

One of the suits was bright blue serge, one was brown tweed, and the other three loud checkered patterns. All the clothes were so large for their wearers that the sleeves and trouser cuffs had been rolled back. Each man wore a felt hat pulled down over his ears.

Tom and his friends almost broke into laughter at the sight, but managed to stifle their mirth. Not so Wilson Hutchcraft, who giggled shrilly until Tom silenced him with a warning glance. The five little Mayas were obviously bursting with pride at their citified apparel.

"They look very impressive,
ahau,"
said Doc Simpson cautiously. "But what is the occasion?"

"Have no fear," the
ahau
replied. "They are merely preparing for the journey."

"The journey?"

"Of course, to your far-north, to New York. These are the five of Huratlcuyon who are to accompany you in your great airplane."

"Oh boy," murmured Simpson. "Chief—Hu-Quetzal—there’s been a—you see—"

The
ahau
raised a hand. "I see. Of course. The long ride, in the back of the auto-truck will hurt-like-monkeys the garments they wear. But I will have them take them off and hold them in their laps. That will be well."

Doc shot a helpless look at Tom, and the young inventor stepped forward with a polite smile. "Chief Quetzal, we must apologize to you and to these good men. We did not explain well what we planned to do. My friend Dr. Simpson must first conduct some tests on many of your people. Then we ask you to allow him to make a selection himself—that is what he agreed to do, with Grandyke University."

Hu-Quetzal frowned but gave a single nod, slowly. "It is for you to say." He turned to the men and spoke to them in the village dialect. They appeared disappointed but immediately began to strip off their suits where they stood.

"We will save them carefully until they are needed," stated Quetzal.

Thanking him, Tom complimented the Indians on their fine appearance, and asked the chief where the clothes had come from. "We sent a runner to the city of Mérida to arrange for them," Hu-Quetzal explained. "We have many, many cousins who choose to live like the
huaxixtlen,
in cities. They help us."

Professor Castillez explained that the
huaxixtlen
were the Mexicans of European descent. "From
haciendero,
it is supposed. I fear the word is not always used as a compliment," he added wryly.

Tom glanced at his elaborate wristwatch. "We’d better grab our gear and get going."

Castillez’s old pickup truck proved to be battered, spattered, rusted—and big. As it rattled along the narrow, winding dirt road, so narrow that it sometimes seemed to merge with the lush jungle on either side, Tom, Bud, and Chow had plenty of room in the cab.

Yet comfort was lacking. "Brand my steam iron!" Chow grumbled. "I sure do wish we had a air-conditioner in this rattletrap."

"We do," replied Bud, pointing. "But it doesn’t work."

"Then that gives me another somethin’ t’ wish fer!"

It took the remainder of the morning to finally reach the
Sky Queen,
and by that time the travelers were thoroughly bedraggled and wet with perspiration. Chow’s wrist ached from fanning himself with his ten-gallon hat.

"Hey, strangers!" greeted Slim Davis, calling down from the belly hatch. "What’d you do, swim all the way?"

"Feels like it!" snorted Tom.

They climbed the ladder and immediately began to enjoy the comfort of the climate-controlled Flying Lab. The three took time for a cool shower and a cold lunch, then began to ferry the retroscope equipment into the truck bed, cushioning it with blankets and carefully tying down each component.

"What’s this thing run off of, Tom?" asked one of the crewmen assisting them, Bill Bennings. "Got a generator?"

"No," was the response. "The camera doesn’t take much more electricity than a TV set. One solar battery is more than enough for it."

After loading aboard the special tools and patching materials needed for repairing the grounded paraplane, Tom took a moment to make a quick radio call to his father at Swift Enterprises.