Tom Swift and His Outpost in Space (5 page)

"Don’t you remember?"

"Not exactly. It’s as if I’m remembering a nightmare. Bud, did I—fall?"

Bud nodded.

"And you pulled me in. Chow was there…"

"You were trying to free up the launcher mechanism, and—"

"Yes," said Tom. "The bruise on my shoulder. The whole thing doesn’t seem real anymore, as if it never really happened."

Bud scratched his head. "I’m not a…I mean, I don’t know about this stuff, but maybe you’re sort of blanking it all out because—"

"Because it was so
terrifying,"
concluded Tom. "Falling and falling all alone. I was looking mortality right in the face and—
I blinked.
I couldn’t take it. And now I’m afraid to look out at an empty sky, or to go up in a plane. I can’t touch the throttle. Crazy things run through my mind, just like the space symbols on the oscillograph screen."

Bud lay a reassuring hand on Tom’s forearm. "You know I’m here for you, pal. We all are."

"If I can’t fight this off, you know what it means." Tom looked away in anguish. "I won’t be able to participate in the space station project. I’ll be grounded completely, useless."

"Don’t talk that way!" demanded Bud.

"Maybe you’d better taxi the Special back into the hangar," Tom said. "I—don’t think I can do it."

As they left the airfield minutes later, Bud asked Tom’s permission to discuss Tom’s problem with Mr. Swift. "Please don’t," responded Tom. "Give me a chance to fight this off without worrying anyone—anyone but you, chum. If I fail, do what you need to do."

Some hours later, after a silent, listless supper in his laboratory, Tom went home. He attempted to work, but found himself nodding off to sleep as if he had been drugged. Finally, he gave up and crawled into bed.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

The next morning Tom felt somewhat invigorated. Tom’s whole family accompanied him to the plant to witness his first test of a new invention he had developed in connection with the space outpost project, which Bud was to test and demonstrate.

The little group included Bashalli Prandit. "Tom, what is this ‘zero-G chamber’ of yours, anyway?" she asked in the car, running her fingers through her long, raven-dark hair. "Do I understand it is for losing weight?"

"I guess you might say that, Bash," laughed Tom. "It has to do with helping our worker-astronauts become accustomed to low-gravity conditions without ever leaving the earth."

"I would think not having gravity to fight would make life easier," she remarked.

"Some experts believe human beings couldn’t survive prolonged exposure to weightlessness," noted Tom’s father. "Astronauts who have been in orbit for weeks or months not only become physically weaker, but seem to suffer a general deterioration in their nervous system and basic reflexes."

"That could be a very serious problem when it comes to doing construction work in space," added Mrs. Swift. "Small errors could be fatal."

"But won’t the space outpost be rotating like a wheel?" inquired Sandy. "I thought the idea was to cause a feeling of weight."

"Yes…but…" Tom seemed to drift away in mid-sentence, and the car, his father’s, swerved slightly.

"Dear, you’d better pay attention to the road," Tom’s mother warned.

"Sorry. I’m all right." Tom cleared his throat. "Sandy, the wheel will rotate, but not until all construction work is finished. During the construction phase is when we’ll face the greatest danger of errors or accidents."

"Indeed," said Bashalli breezily. "One wouldn’t wish to
fall off.
So, Thomas, your chamber creates these conditions here on the ground?"

The young inventor gave a slight nod. "Yes. Of course, it won’t really reduce the actual pull of gravity—no more than floating in a swimming pool is gravity-free. I use a pulsating electromagnet to create a counterforce." Tom explained that the pulsating aspect allowed for more efficient use of energy. "But the principle is very simple. It’s like using a little horseshoe magnet to raise a piece of metal off a table-top. But as you start to approach the magnet in the chamber ceiling, a positional sensor decreases the pull in a calculated manner, taking your upward movement and acceleration into account. So you end up floating in mid-air instead of conking your head on the magnet." Tom elaborated further, relating how the system was designed to compensate for the slightest shift in position of any test object inside the chamber, whether human or otherwise. Thus the controls would maintain a precise balance at all times between the downward pull of gravity and the upward attraction of the magnet.

"But has it occurred to you that human beings are not made of metal?" Bashalli objected.

"Bud will be wearing a special sort of metal garment."

Sandy winced.
"Ouch!"

"With cushioned underwear, I would hope," Bashalli said.

Tom was quiet for the rest of the short drive to Swift Enterprises. Inside the gates, Bud Barclay greeted them in the underground hangar, where the chamber had been constructed. "All set for Barclay’s ace high-wire act—without the wire?" he asked Tom.

"I’d better be," Tom replied, leading the way to the zero-G chamber. "Looks as if we’re going to have a good-sized audience."

Chow Winkler and a number of engineers and other employees were already gathered around the experimental chamber. It was made of transparent plastic and was a thirty-foot cube. On the ceiling was rigged one pole of a special electromagnet of Tom’s design. Inside, the room had been furnished with a desk, chair, couch, and tools.

Dave Bogard, an electrical engineer employed by Swift Enterprises, was putting the final touches on the control panel which stood alongside the chamber.

"How’s she coming, Dave?" Tom asked him.

"When this panel was moved, one of the junctions pulled loose. Kind of tricky the way you have these fine adjustments set up. I guess I’ll have to consult the diagram."

"Here, lend me your screwdriver," Tom suggested, and soon wired the connections. Dave shook his head and grinned admiringly. "I don’t know how you do it, Tom, but you’ve sure got what it takes."

Tom lightly brushed the compliment aside. "After all, I drew the diagrams, so I should know how to make the hookup."

Sandy said, winking at her brother, "It’s all very clear to
me.
Now where’s this suit that you’re going to wear, Bud? Bashi and I want to be sure it fits right."

Bud grinned. "It’s the latest fashion on Mars," he said. "If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go put it on." Tom left the room at Bud’s side. When they returned, a surprise was in order—Tom, not Bud, was wearing the zero-gravity garment.

"I talked Tom into it," Bud explained. "Tom makes a better clothes model—he’s slimmer, y’know."

Tom’s appearance drew a loud buzz of interest. From head to foot, he was clothed in a weird, tight-fitting metal suit resembling fish scales, which was securely strapped on over his normal street garb. It was composed of a myriad of tiny soft iron disks, sewn together on a fabric backing. The disks were built up like the flesh on his frame, clustering most heavily on the thickest parts of his body, whereas the gloves encasing his hands were fairly thin. "Well, brand my lariat, a walkin’ hardware store!" Chow exclaimed. "How kin you ever move around in that there suit o’ armor?"

"Feels a bit heavy, all right." Tom agreed. "But I’m expecting the zero-G chamber to change all that."

Mrs. Swift laid a hand on her son’s arm. "Tom, there—there’s nothing
dangerous
about this experiment, is there?" she asked anxiously.

Tom patted her hand before replying. "Well, Mom, I’m not going to electrocute myself, if that’s what you mean."

"Son, the answer I’m looking for is,
No."

The blond youth chuckled and hugged his petite mother. "If I should feel any bad reaction, I’ll signal Dave to turn off the power immediately."

"Good luck, Tom," said Mr. Swift. He nodded at Dave Bogard, who stepped to the control board as prearranged.

Tom entered the zero-G chamber and closed the door behind him, then signaled his father to turn on the current. Now he was sealed in the air-conditioned cube!

At first Tom experienced no change. Wondering if the device had been activated, he tried to take a step. To his pleased surprise, the upward motion lifted him gently off the floor. Now he hung suspended in mid-air. A queer sensation of buoyancy and lightness, mostly psychological, came creeping over him.

"I think I know how to get out of this," Tom said to himself. Tilting his head back, he converted his slight drift into a somersault. The force shoved him back to the floor again.

Outside the chamber, Tom’s audience applauded.

Tom realized at once that he would have to master a new gait. Shuffling his feet along the floor, he dragged his body behind like a comedian doing a mime act. The watchers laughed uproariously at the strange antics. Even Tom had to grin at his predicament. "Wait till they see this one." Standing on tiptoes, he gave a bound to the ceiling, where he walked on his hands! Then, pushing with his fingers, he made his way to one of the walls, which he crept down on hands and knees. Contrary to expectations, the suit’s magnetic material seemed to adhere very slightly to the walls, a phenomenon he was determined to investigate further.

The vertigo-like tension Tom had experienced at first was vanishing, and he resolved to have fun with his experiment. He propelled himself toward one side of the room and proceeded to walk calmly straight up the wall!

Startled gasps broke from the audience. "Tom Swift the Human Fly!" Bud exclaimed like a carnival barker.

"It’s magnificent!" cried Bashalli. "I wish to try it next!"

The cries of amazement grew louder as Torn continued his stroll by walking upside down across the ceiling!

Chow Winkler yanked out a red bandanna and mopped his brow nervously as he stared in half-horrified fascination. "Br-rand my Damonscope," he drawled, "that ain’t human! How’s Tom ever goin’ to know which is top side up when he comes out o’ that place?"

Reaching the other side of the room, Tom suavely ambled down the wall. Next, he lay down on the couch. His body, being buoyant, failed to dent the cushions. And because he lay without making any effort to restrain himself, the slight movement of his shoulder blades as he breathed was enough to propel him off the couch. He was left floating in the center of the chamber.

He now turned his attention to some of the other equipment in the room. When he sat at the desk and wrote, even the slight effort of wielding a pencil caused him to be shoved this way and that.

The tools and other items in the room had been made specially for the experiment. They contained just enough magnetic material to counterbalance the pull of gravity. A slight touch was enough to send a wrench or wastebasket floating across the room!

Finally Tom picked up a hammer and tried to drive a nail into a board. As he swung the hammer downward, his feet shot up from the floor and the hammer landed feebly on the nail. "I never felt so helpless in my life," Tom murmured, his comments amplified through the external loudspeaker.

The observers outside the zero-G chamber were laughing and talking with great interest as they watched Tom’s every move. At last they saw him straighten up and signal to Dave Bogard that the experiment was over. Smiling and pleased, Bogard reached toward the control board. But the smile suddenly faded. The master power knob turned easily, but the instrument dial indicated no diminution of electrical current—the magnet was pulling hard as ever.

Seeing the look on Bogard’s face Mr. Swift came over to lend a hand. They were soon joined by Bud.

"The controls have frozen!" Bud whispered, his heart sinking. Sensing that something was wrong, the rest of the audience pressed closer.

"Damon!"
cried Mrs. Swift suddenly, her voice taut with alarm. Tom’s father whirled to see his son trembling violently as he floated in the middle of the plastic-walled chamber!

Bud dashed to the door of the zero-G chamber and attempted to yank it open. But the door would not budge. "It can’t be opened until the current is turned off!" yelled Dave Bogard. "Tom told me he’d set it up that way as a safety feature!"

"Great!" gritted Bud. "Can’t you override it?"

"I don’t know how!"

Bud pounded on the transparent wall frantically and desperately, trying to get Tom to respond. But the young inventor seemed only hazily aware of his surroundings. His muscles were tightly clenched and perspiration was beaded upon his forehead. He seemed to be gasping for breath!

"Bogard! Can’t you just cut the power?" demanded Bud.

"The controls aren’t responding!"

"Not
the answer I’m looking for!" cried the young pilot. In four leaping strides he had reached the point where a pair of thick power cables joined the lab wall. Wrapping his jacket around his hands for insulation, Bud grasped the cables tightly. Then, bracing his feet against the wall, he gave a mighty heave, muscles bulging.

The cables gave! With a flash and a cascade of blue-white sparks, the cables wrenched free of their sealed connection. Instantly the faint electronic hum of the powerful electromagnet was replaced by silence, broken a moment later by the loud
thunk!
of Tom’s metal-clad body hitting the floor of the chamber.

Bud pulled the door open easily and scrambled to Tom’s side. Bud immediately began to choke—the air was full of a pungent odor, and his every breath seemed to sting his throat. "He needs oxygen!" Bud called.

Holding his breath as best he could, Bud carried his friend from the zero-G chamber. With the first breath of fresh air the young inventor ceased to tremble. But his eyelids were fluttering, as if he were about to pass out.

Laying Tom down, Bud chafed his wrists, and an emergency oxygen mask was applied. Everyone stood by, pale with fear. Bashalli put a comforting arm around Sandy, who was in tears.

"Some Swift
I
am," Sandy murmured.

But even as she spoke these words Tom returned to full consciousness, his eyes darting back and forth from Bud to Mr. Swift, and then to Chow Winkler.