Tom Swift and His Ultrasonic Cycloplane (17 page)

Tom gave Slim’s shoulder an understanding squeeze. "I’m glad you’re okay now. I’m sure Bud will be too."

The conversation was abruptly interrupted by a shout from Red Jones. "Hey, look over here! I think I found another tunnel!" Tom and the others excitedly rushed to the redheaded crewman’s side. He was pointing upward toward a spot near the top of one wall, where several boulders fit together unevenly. In the i-gun glow they could barely make out the edge of a horizontal slit in the wall.

"I stuck my hand up, and could feel air flowing through," Red explained.

"Wa-al, if’n you wanna call
that
a cave, then I’m as skinny as a beanpole!" snorted Chow. "No way in Texas I’m gonna be able to squeeze my borderline through that dinky hole."

"But it looks as though we can widen it," said Tom. "Let’s see!"

"Guess we don’t have much else t’do," Chow admitted.

As it turned out, the rocks around the opening were loosely packed and easy to pry apart. One by one the men scrambled through the widened opening, which proved to be the mouth of a narrow cave. "This is definitely artificial," Tom declared with growing excitement. "And feel that breeze—fresh air!"

"It might be an abandoned access tunnel dug by the original builders of the city," suggested Ed. "In which case it may lead us right out to the open!"

The troop worked their way along the tunnel single-file, guiding the helpless Bud and assisting Slim, who was still weak and dizzy.

"Man, this is as long as a New York subway!" complained Hank Sterling. "We can’t be under the volcano anymore."

"But we haven’t hit daylight either," grumbled Gil Muir.

In a few more minutes, Tom whistled softly, halting those following him. "Careful—light ahead." Moving with great caution, they emerged one by one into a dim light. "Aw, no!" groaned Red. "It’s another cavern!"

But Tom Swift’s eyes sparkled as he took in the scene. "Not
just
another cavern!" he exclaimed in a hushed voice. "It’s a
miracle
—and maybe a way out!"

TOM’S HOPEFUL words surprised the men.

"Now, Boss," said Chow scratching his bare head. "I’m all fer optimism, but I don’t exactly see much reason fer it right now."

The cavernous hollow into which they had emerged was much smaller than the other, with high rough walls that slanted together like the inside of a cone. At the peak of the stone ceiling was a jagged, irregular gash through which the dimmed daylight of the storm region fell in a narrow beam. Most of the cavernous chamber was thick with shadow.

Hank Sterling stared up at the opening, shading his eyes with his hand. "We must be inside the other volcano," he theorized. "That’s the lava fissure up there, but all the lava’s been dug away underneath."

"Look down at the floor," Tom urged, pointing. The men murmured in puzzlement.

The weak sunlight from above fell upon an open, circular pit with sides like a funnel, terraced into a series of levels. The earthen sides glimmered with every color of the rainbow!

"The rare earths quarry!"
Doc Simpson exclaimed. "We’ve found it!"

Tom gave a vigorous nod. "Men, I think both these peaks aren’t real volcanoes at all! They’re cone-shaped mounds of fitted stone, like pyramids, which wind and rain and plantlife have eroded down over the centuries until they no longer appear artificial. The openings at the top may have been for ventilation and light, or to let cook-smoke escape. The opening over the hidden city has collapsed and is blocked-up, but this one is still wide open to the sky."

"Okay, chief," said Billy doubtfully. "But why did they do it? What’s the purpose?"

Ed Longstreet spoke up. "There are plenty of reasons to want to conceal a settlement from plain view. Safety, for one—it’s like living in a stone fortress. Furthermore, this was obviously some kind of sacred site for the ancient people. Perhaps they made pilgrimages here to worship their gods. The entire hidden city may really be one big temple, so to speak."

"It makes sense, I suppose," remarked John thoughtfully. "But what about this structure here?"

"That’s the unbelievable thing—if my theory isn’t just a lot of hot air," declared Tom. He approached the edge of the pit, which was about one hundred feet across and forty feet deep in the center. Wrapping his shirttail around his hand for protection, he took a copper penny from deep in his pocket and reached down into the pit. A mere touch of the coin against the side sent up a shower of sparks! At another spot the young scientist-inventor cautiously gouged a small chunk out of the ground as the men watched curiously.

"This is something like mica," said Tom musingly. "You know—the flaky substance that’s used in making electrical insulation and condensers."

Some of the queer materials from the pit remained caked on the penny. Tom carefully rubbed the stuff between his fingers, and it flaked away at the touch.

"Do you realize what this mineral bed really is?" Tom asked. "Look at these things lying all over the place."

"What, those big vines?" asked Sam.

"Not vines—power cables!"

"What!"
cried Hank. "Are you serious?"

Tom grinned. "Dead serious!"

The others stared at the young inventor in amazement, then Red Jones pleaded, "Explain it real simple-like, so the rest of us non-geniuses can understand."

"Sure, that’ll be easy." Tom smiled. "Notice how this bed is made up of thousands of layers of mica with layers of that steel-like material between?"

"Yes."

"That steel-like material is cerium, another one of the rare earths. Cerium is used in photocells. It makes electricity! Out of the daylight that pours down through the opening above—which was much stronger before the storm got in the way—the veins of rare earths create a voltage potential that can be tapped by linking them through conducting materials like copper, silver, or even iron."

Ed gaped. "You’re implying that this civilization achieved a highly advanced level of scientific know-how thousands of years ago!"

"That’s a lot to get for one copper penny, skipper," joked Arv Hanson skeptically.

Tom responded with a shrug. "You all know that rare earths have unusual electrical and magnetic properties. At Enterprises we experimented with certain rare earths alloys in developing the solar batteries, but the expense of acquiring the materials in quantity was prohibitive. Now what I think," the young inventor continued, "is that these ancient people—probably just their priestly class or artisans—discovered that if separated veins of the rare earths were connected by long strips of metal and exposed to sunlight, a magical force was created. We call it electricity!"

Chow’s jaw had long since dropped wide open. "You tryin’ to tell me these stone-age folks had electric power?"

Tom laughed. "Not as we understand it. They didn’t have electric motors or lights. But one of the things about that hidden city that amazed me was the way rare earths alloys had been incorporated right into the walls and pavement, layered on like a metallic paint that didn’t peel off. Now I know how they did it!"

Hank interrupted Tom with a shout. "Sure!—
electroplating!"

"Right—somehow they discovered the basic technique and learned how to use it. And this chamber was their power station—
a giant natural solar battery!"

The men broke into an excited babble at Tom’s astounding theory.

"Say," Arv Hanson broke in, "maybe those guys were even more advanced than we thought. Aren’t those
radar dishes
up around the opening?"

Looking up again, Tom and the others noticed for the first time a number of circular, dish-shaped reflectors just beneath the lip of the fissure, somewhat hidden in shadow. Tom frowned. "Nothing ancient about
that.
I’ll bet it has to do with Strang’s and Bartholdis’s storm-making machine!"

They could now make out power lines looping down the inside of the cavern walls. Following the wires, Tom soon discovered a large, dial-studded metal cabinet concealed in a recess in one wall.

"What’s that, the control mechanism?" inquired Ed.

Tom pressed an ear to the metal casing. "An electrical hum—it’s probably some kind of polymodal-wave oscillator. No sign of a dynamo, so it must run off batteries." Tom tried to pry open an access panel, but the metal chassis resisted his efforts. "Too bad—I’d like to see how it’s set up."

"Well, I’ve had about
enough
of that storm!" grated Slim Davis, who seemed to have recovered rapidly. With a fierce expression Slim strode up to the cabinet and took hold of a handful of the power leads to yank them loose from the antennas above. But Tom put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Not yet!" he warned. "If we shut off the storm, our enemies will realize where we’ve got to. We need to do some planning first."

Slim nodded. "You’re right, skipper."

They began a hasty exploration of the chamber, and soon discovered a portal that undoubtedly led to the outside, as Tom had foreseen. But it was covered by a metal door, securely locked from the other side.

Doc snorted. "We won’t be getting out
that
way!"

Chow arched his back and gazed far up at the opening, through which the black swirling clouds could be seen. "Mebbe we kin use them wires like climbin’ ropes, an’—"

"They’d just pull loose," Tom observed. "Besides, I have another possibility—in my pocket!"

The young inventor unzipped his pants pocket and drew forth a small rectangular object, holding it up for all to see.

"Tom!" exclaimed Gil in surprise. "The remote for the cycloplane! You mean you’ve had it all along?"

The youth gave a happy nod in reply. "Sure did. After the sabotage of the
SwiftStorm—
which I imagine was the work of Strang—I thought it would be best to take the control box with me."

Tom briefly explained the purpose of the device, and Chow broke into a Texas cheer.
"Yahoo!
Then you kin have that there cycle-plane fly down through the hole and pick us up!"

"That’s the general idea," Tom confirmed. "I’m pretty sure we’re still within range."

Tom activated the box and made several attempts to transmit instructions to the cybertron. Each time a small red light flashed on.

"Somethin’ wrong?" asked Chow worriedly. "Got a loose wire?"

"No," Tom replied. "But I’m not getting any signal back from the plane—no ‘handshake,’ as they call it."

Ed asked if the plane were too far away after all. "It’s not that," Tom replied. "I think the thick stone around us, and maybe the presence of the rare earths ore, is weakening the signal. I wonder if I could boost the power a bit…" He opened the back of the box and made various adjustments. Nothing worked.

Tom frowned musingly, deep in thought. Sudden his face lit up. "Good night, what a dope I am! We have all the power we need down here!"

"You mean from the oscillator?" asked Hank. "I thought you couldn’t break open the casing."

"Naw, boys, don’t ya get it?" Chow grinned. "Tom’s gonna plug into that there dirt battery!"

Once more the men were amazed at this bold idea. "Do you really think you can do it, Tom?" Red Jones asked.

"Why not?" was Tom’s answer. "We may have to stir the deposits up a little to deal with surface oxidation, but I’d guess even a small section of the quarry will still generate significant voltage, enough to push the signal over the threshold."

Tom and the men set to work immediately, scooping the oxidized crust off the rare earths deposits by shirttail-insulated hand. Tom was able to make tentative but reasonable guesses as to the composition of several of the bright-hued veins.

Accepting the risk, Tom had the men pull down a couple of the power leads from their antennas, as the ancient cables had long since corroded into uselessness. After pulling out a few thin wires from within Strang’s cables, which would be used to make the final connection to the remote control, the cable insulation was scraped away at several points by vigorous rubbing against the sharp edges of cut stones.

Finally Tom lay the cables across the rare earths veins, burying the uninsulated segments to make a solid contact. Bursts of spark were a sure sign that the project was on the right track. The "battery" was far from dead! Making the final connections, he grinned at the crowd around him. "Cross your fingers, guys!"

Chow retorted, "Me, I’m crossin’ every blame thing I got!"

With a gulp and a silent prayer, Tom thumbed the button on the unit, which now rested flat on the rocky floor.

The light flashed red—failure! But Tom held up a warning hand and carefully rechecked all the connections as the men waited breathlessly.

He tried again.

"Green!"
he sang out happily. "The cybertron got the signal!" The men roared their relief and excitement.

As the cheering faded out, Ed asked his cousin how Tom would be able to maneuver the cycloplane without being able to see what it was doing.

"It’ll be chancy," Tom admitted. "I’m basically having the
SwiftStorm
ascend to a thousand feet, then circle around trying to home in on the signal, which will be strongest over the opening. Then she’ll be in view, and I’ll guide her down visually."

Tense waiting followed. With its noise-suppressing configuration and frictionless drive motors, the slight hum of the cycloplane could not be heard above the rumble from the storm.

"You’re not using the jets?" asked John Yarborough.

"She’d overshoot," replied Tom. "But I can make her creep along slowly by slightly tweaking the axis of the cyclocyls."

Minutes later a shout from Sam Barker electrified the group. "I saw a shadow move across the rocks up there!"

"There she is!" cried Chow, as the
SwiftStorm
glided into view like a modern magic carpet.

"Okay," murmured Tom. "Now let’s see if I can get her down through that gap without a smashup."

It was a delicate, nervewracking endeavor. The cycloplane barely fit through the fissure—no standard aircraft, such as a helicopter, could have made it. But Tom patiently guided his invention in for a smooth, soft landing as his loyal team watched in breathless silence—all but Bud Barclay, who slumped on the cavern floor, eyes lowered, inert, his black hair falling across his forehead. For once an impressive on-the-dime landing didn’t give Bud his "nine cents change."