Tom Swift on the Phantom Satellite

THE TOM SWIFT INVENTION ADVENTURES

TOM SWIFT

ON THE

PHANTOM SATELLITE

BY VICTOR APPLETON II

This unauthorized tribute is based upon the original TOM SWIFT JR. characters.

As of this printing, copyright to The New TOM SWIFT Jr. Adventures is owned by SIMON & SCHUSTER

This edition privately printed by RUNABOUT © 2011
www.tomswiftlives.com

"TOM! That runaway planet, or whatever it is, will—will it collide with earth?" White-faced with fear, Bud Barclay stared at his friend, Tom Swift.

For a moment the young inventor continued to peer through a powerful telescope in the silent, high-domed observatory that stood like a sentinel on the outskirts of the Swift Enterprises grounds. "Nobody knows, Bud."

But Bud knew the meaning of every tone in his best pal’s voice. "Please, Tom—tell me."

Finally turning to face Bud, Tom said grimly:

"If it keeps on course and maintains the same speed, I don’t see how it can miss us!"

Both young men glanced out the window at the strange, brilliant object gleaming low in the eastern sky, where the rising sun had just begun to spill over the horizon. First sighted only hours before by astronomers in Asia, the mysterious body had been growing larger with every passing moment. Alerted at the nearby Swift residence, Tom and Bud had scrambled to Enterprises at breakneck speed to observe the strange phenomenon and determine its course.

"Jetz!" Bud cried out. "How big
is
this thing and—how much longer do we have before it hits us?"

"Dad’s checking the computations on that now," the rangy blond scientist-inventor replied. Turning once more to the telescope eyepiece, he added, "Bud, this must be what our space friends were trying to tell us about in that message yesterday."

It was now a good many months since the Swifts had begun communicating with friendly beings from another planet. The first message had arrived on a missile from outer space, which had plowed into the Enterprises grounds like a meteor. Later, the great installation’s experimental magnifying antenna had intercepted more messages, which appeared on the video-like oscilloscope screen in the form of strange-looking mathematical symbols. Tom and his father had decoded these, and replied with messages of their own beamed into deep space by the same powerful antenna. The most recent contact had been a spectacular one—a space vessel bearing samples of alien vegetation, sent to earth in hopes that the Swifts, whom the space beings had learned to trust, could help them overcome the environmental factors that prevented their paying a visit to our world in person. But the present events threatened far more than spectacle!

"Why didn’t they warn us it would collide?" Bud demanded in a quavering voice. "They just said something about a phenomenon that would be clearly visible from earth."

"The message was incomplete, Bud. Besides, Dad and I weren’t sure of our translation on some of the symbols. We still have no idea what the object is or where it came from! It approached from the direction of the inner solar system, and the glare of the sun prevented our detecting it sooner."

At that moment Damon Swift, Tom’s father, entered the main observatory room. His expression bleak, he handed a sheaf of scribbled notes and computer printouts to his son.

"Our space outpost is finally in position to probe the object with its instruments. It is definitely on a collision course with earth," he summarized for the boys, "and at its present velocity—well, we have perhaps two hours."

"Two hours!"
Bud repeated in a hoarse whisper. The dark-haired young pilot had never lacked for courage, but nothing had prepared him for worldwide destruction from outer space!

Tom exchanged meaningful glances with his famous father, whose scientific genius he had inherited. "There’s no possibility of an error?" he asked, fighting his emotions.

"I’m afraid not." Mr. Swift put his hand on Tom’s shoulder, adding, "I must call home and talk to your mother. Perhaps we both should go—"

"Listen!" Bud interrupted. He ran to the lower edge of the curved gap in the dome and looked out. From a distance came the frightened babble of Swift Enterprises workers, the early morning shift, who were milling around the low buildings. Every face was turned toward the bead of light in the heavens.

"The men are panicking," Bud said. "Is there anything we can tell them, Mr. Swift?"

As Tom turned back to the telescope, his father pondered the question. What statement could he possibly make at such a time?

Finally, Mr. Swift said quietly, "We owe it to them to tell them the truth—that unless something happens—"

"Wait, Dad!" Tom exclaimed. "Something
has
happened!"

As Mr. Swift drew near, Tom pointed to a set of illuminated dials indicating the coordinates of the telescope’s automatic tracking mechanism. "Look—the delta vector has fallen back to zero!"

"What!" Mr. Swift cried out. "Impossible!"

"What does it mean?" Bud asked.

Mr. Swift answered. "The object is not coming any closer!"

"It’s suddenly slowed down tremendously and changed course!" Tom added excitedly. "Dad, I think it’s going into orbit around the earth! Take a look at these figures."

Tom’s father examined the readouts carefully. In a moment he said, "You’re right, son. By some miracle it won’t collide with earth!"

Bud heaved a sigh of relief. "That Little Luna up there sure looked like the third strike!"

The tension released, Tom and his father grinned at Bud’s nickname for the moonlet. After conferring with his father, the young inventor picked up a microphone connected to the plant’s public-address system. "Tom Swift speaking. We have tracked the object in the sky. The danger is over. Everyone, please return to work. There is no present cause for alarm. The moonlet has gone into orbit. Repeat—there is no cause for alarm."

At once, with a scattering of muted cheers, the loyal employees began streaming back to the flat-roofed, modern laboratories and workshop buildings scattered about the four-mile-square enclosure of Swift Enterprises. Cris-crossed with wide airstrips, Enterprises was the experimental station where the Swifts developed the inventions that had brought worldwide fame to the family for generations.

Meanwhile, Tom turned the telescope over to a young astronomer who had just arrived, named Garrett Baines. "We’ll plot the orbit of our phantom satellite, Tom," Baines declared, "and compile as much data on it as possible."

"Thanks, Gar," Tom responded. "The whole world is waiting for the data, you can be sure!"

Tom followed Mr. Swift to the main administration building, in which they shared an office, leaving Bud to speak to some of his friends on the workforce and gauge their reactions to the morning’s crisis. Dropping into a deep leather chair, Tom waited for Mr. Swift to finish a telephone call to their home. Keen blue eyes glittering with intelligence and raw curiosity, Tom was a taller, slimmer edition of his father despite the ragged remnants of a blond crewcut that contrasted with Damon Swift’s graying temples.

"What do you make of it, Dad?" he asked when Mr. Swift put down the phone.

"The important thing right now is what the public will make of it," his father replied in a troubled voice.

"You mean widespread panic?"

"I’m afraid so. Your mother says it’s all over the networks. In the past, people have been scared out of their wits by comets. This is far more alarming!"

"Let’s see what the news flashes have to say." Tom reached out and flicked on the large-screen television monitor that filled half of one wall. Instantly a voice came crackling out of the speaker:

"—has just announced that all Civil Defense units are being alerted for possible action. So far no astronomer can offer any explanation for the strange object in the sky. But keep tuned to this station for any new developments."

Tom twirled the dial to several other stations. Each one was broadcasting similar exciting news bulletins and a few fantastic theories.

"What it all amounts to is that no one has any explanation," Tom commented dryly. "And people have a great urge to talk all the louder the less they know!"

At that moment Bud walked into the office and perched on a corner of Tom’s broad desk. "Come on, genius boy," he said, grinning at Tom, "you must have some idea about that blob of stardust. Give us the inside story. Is it some kind of big meteor?"

Tom smiled. "It might be an asteroid that happened to stray into earth’s orbit. That’s what we thought at first. But Little Luna changed her direction and speed too suddenly to have been a wandering asteroid. I’d say the laws of nature are being interfered with!"

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning the satellite must be
artificial—
constructed by our space friends for their own purposes."

Bud’s eyes widened. "Man! You think those guys are
that
far advanced?"

Mr. Swift now spoke up. "We can only judge by what we’re seeing, Bud. If the space scientists didn’t literally create the object out of whole cloth, they surely played a role in maneuvering it into a safe orbit."

The telephone bleeped and the young inventor scooped it up. "Tom speaking."

"Mr. Swift, this is the main switchboard. We’ve been flooded with calls, and a Mr. Perkins from the local newspaper is being very demanding about being put through to you."

"Go ahead," said Tom. "It’s Dan Perkins," he mouthed to Bud and his father.

"This is Dan Perkins of the
Shopton Evening Bulletin
. Listen, Tom, how about some words on this fireball in the sky, or whatever it is? Are you and your father cooking up some new stunt?"

"Sorry, Dan, we can’t make a statement at this time," was Tom’s cool reply. He and his father were not always satisfied with the tone and accuracy of the reportage in Shopton’s home newspaper.

"Now look, Tom, you can’t brush off an old newspaperman like me that easily!"

"Sorry, but we have nothing to say yet!" Tom’s voice was polite but unyielding.

The inquiry from Dan Perkins seemed to be the signal for a flood of similar calls. Soon the shrill burr of the phone had become all but continuous. Some of the callers sounded terrified, others were spluttering with rage. All of them clamored for an explanation of the strange sky phenomenon and wanted to know what dangers were in store for Earth.

Exasperated, Damon Swift buzzed the office secretary, Munford Trent, on the intercom. "From now on, please shut off all calls!"

Meanwhile, Bud and Tom were tuning in the latest news accounts, which now issued uninterruptedly from the TV. They were all similar: sensational and quietly hysterical. To judge by the reports, panic was spreading across the globe. An excited announcer was saying:

"A bulletin just handed me states that crowds are rioting in Manila, Hong Kong, and other cities in Asia, where the space phantom has been visible for several hours! More trouble is expected as the glowing object becomes visible in other parts of the world. To add to the concern, freak high tides are reported at a number of coastal points. One Canadian town on the Bay of Fundy was almost swept away!"

"We know
that’s
just coincidence," Tom pronounced. "The object isn’t yet at the right position in its orbit to affect that region. Besides, it’s far too small for its gravity to have a significant effect on the tides."

The intercom buzzer sounded and Tom flipped the switch. "Sorry to disturb you," Trent apologized, "but—"

"Perkins again?"

"How’d you guess? He says it’s urgent."

Tom grinned wryly. "I’m sure he does! All right, put him on."

"I’m not bothering you for a statement," the editor said in a smug voice. "Just a little heads-up. You’d better tune in your TV in exactly one minute, Tom. Odyssey CableView. You and your dad are in for quite a surprise!"

With a sly chuckle, Perkins hung up.

Tom turned to his father and Bud. "Perkins has cooked something up. I’ll get it on the videophone."

A private TV network, used to link the various offices and outposts of Tom Swift Enterprises and its several affiliates, the videophone system could also be set to pick up regular commercial broadcasts over local cable. Tom stepped over to the control box, and in a moment the logo for Odyssey CableView popped on to the lower corner of the screen. A talking head was holding forth with customary vigor. His diatribe finished, he turned, and the screen flashed to a scowling man with bushy white hair. After introducing the man as John Voort, professor of astrophysics at nearby Grandyke University, the commentator asked:

"Can
you
offer any explanation of the strange glowing object in the sky, Professor?"

"Any scientific theorizing would be premature. It is definitely not a natural phenomenon. In my opinion, there is only one possible explanation."

"What is that?"

"As we all know, Tom Swift and his father are in contact with extraterrestrials of unknown origin, who are willing to communicate only with them. I have reason to believe that the Swifts and these creatures are now engaged in an experiment which could have tragic results!"