Tom Swift in the Caves of Nuclear Fire (9 page)

"Six hours lost!" Tom muttered to Bud in disgust.

"Whoever gave the police that phony tip got just what he wanted," Bud replied; and Tom knew the young pilot had Craig Benson in mind.

Soon the midday bustle of Kinshasa was broken by the roar of the
Sky Queen
’s powerful jets as Tom took off for the final stage of their journey—the mysterious mountain near the Maba village. Below them the gleaming green forest, much of it containing rubber-producing trees, was occasionally broken by grassy plains. These immense veldts served as grazing lands for buffalo and antelope.

"To this day, some of this jungle is almost inaccessible by surface travel," Craig pointed out. "It can still take days to go a short distance." He kept watching the terrain keenly and finally said excitedly. "Quick, Tom! Bank sharp to starboard!"

The young inventor maneuvered the craft into a turn. Craig searched the ground below.

"That’s where I crashed!" he declared suddenly. "And look over there! It’s misty, but you can make out the lines of that magic mountain we’re headed for."

Tom and Bud gazed in awe at the wilderness of tangled trees. "Craig," said Tom, "you sure were lucky to come out of this place alive!"

"I know it," the cargo pilot agreed, then said, "The Maba village is approximately three miles northeast of here."

The
Sky Queen
covered the distance in a matter of seconds and Craig pointed to a cluster of small buildings almost hidden by towering trees.

"That’s the village! They call it Ogaphabu."

Chow turned to Mandy Akwabo. "I kin almost pernounce that," he commented proudly. "What’s it mean, ma’am?"

"Why, it means
‘the place where we live’
," she replied with a smile. "A very good name, don’t you think?"

"Reckon so," said the cook doubtfully. "But I don’t think it’d get too far back in Texas!"

Village men, women, and children rushed outside and stared upward at the silver behemoth floating high above them among the clouds.

"We’ll set down in that clearing to the west of the village," Tom announced. "Looks like it’s a rock outcropping and free of vegetation."

He circled, then brought the Flying Lab down to the chosen landing spot. The huge ship settled with a roar.

The members of the expedition stepped out of the plane and gazed at their surroundings. How still and sweet-smelling the jungle was! But how hot! Fascinated, the party stood for a minute taking in the strange exotic beauty around them. Vines, bearing orchids of every hue and shape, trailed from the trees. Masses of tremendous ferns, with leaves twelve feet long, bordered the tropical forest.

Craig pointed to the birds of numerous breeds and varicolored plumage. Startled by the
Sky Queen
’s descent, they were crying shrilly as they flitted among the trees. Many of these, he said, belonged to the parrot family.

"And those flowers are a source of some of the herbal medicines used in this part of Africa," noted Dr. Simpson. "They won’t grow in North America. I’m anxious to study them."

He had barely spoken when about twenty native men emerged from the trees. They wore bluejeans or pants of khaki sailcloth, but were mostly bare-chested, except for one older man who was evidently their leader, who wore a colorful, poncho-like garment. Every man carried a formidable-looking spear. The men to one side of the leader carried their spears in their left hands, the ones on the other in the right.

"Don’t let those spears worry you," advised Craig. "It’s just part of their ritual ceremony in greeting important visitors."

"A great relief!" piped Ry Cully.

The natives stopped before Tom’s party, and the leader began to speak slowly in the language of the Maba.

"He says he greets you as brother-friends, and extends his hospitality," Craig said. "He asks why you have come, and what are your intentions?"

Chow edged forward next to Tom and said softly, "Tell him we’re relatives o’ the sky-gods, an’ we’ve come to visit in our shining canoe to see the sights."

Meanwhile the leader had resumed speaking, and Craig translated again. "He asks if there are any television cameras on your jet, as he wishes to document the abuses they have suffered from the guerrillas." He glanced reprovingly at Chow, who reddened and backed away.

"Please thank him, and tell him that we are here for scientific purposes and will not interfere with their village," Tom said to Craig.

"That’s a little advanced for me," said Craig.

"I will translate," Mandy offered.

A moment after Mandy had concluded, the Swift team was amazed to see the villagers drop to one knee and bow their heads to the visitors in great humility.

Tom, walking toward the group, said happily, "It looks as if they’re going to be friendly."

But suddenly the natives, at a signal from their leader, stopped bowing. As one, they arose and hurled their spears at the Americans!

Caught off guard, the visitors flattened themselves to the ground and the first volley of spears miraculously missed them.

"Into the plane!" Tom yelled.

His companions needed no urging. They made a dash for the
Sky Queen
, but as they reached it, the wildly yelling natives launched a second volley of spears. Some of the weapons crashed against the fuselage of the craft, but the shaft of one struck Hank Sterling a glancing blow on the shoulder. He slumped to the ground. Then Hanson let out a yell of pain and fell, clutching his right leg.

With the others already inside the plane, Bud helped Sterling up the ladder and through the hatch. Tom had run to Hanson, who was wincing with pain but trying to stand up.

"Quick! I’ll help you," Tom offered. "Lean on me!"

Assisted by the young inventor, Hanson managed to make his way up the boarding ladder and through the belly hatch of the stratoship. His face was gray with pain.

"Friendly little greeting ceremony, huh?" Bud said angrily to Craig.

Craig shook his head. "I don’t understand it."

"Are you certain they were from the Maba village?" asked Mandy.

"Yes," Craig replied. "The man leading the delegation is their chief, Dothokan."

"He didn’t seem to recognize you," objected Bud suspiciously.

"It would be a violation of the ceremony to single me out for a greeting," explained Craig.

"That’s true," Mandelia confirmed. "It would be an insult to the visiting chief, Tom Swift."

Tom helped Arvid Hanson to the infirmary compartment, which was on the upper deck. Hank Sterling was already there, being attended to by Dr. Simpson. Sterling’s shoulder was only bruised, but Hanson’s injury was diagnosed to be more serious.

"The spear point went through to the bone," said Doc Simpson. "Fortunately it seems not to have severed any muscles, but you’re going to be pretty sore for a while, Arv, and we’ll have to watch for signs of infection."

"Should we fly him to a hospital?" asked Tom.

Before Simpson could respond, Arv groaned out: "Absolutely not! You’ve lost enough time, skipper!"

Doc Simpson smiled and said, "I suppose I’ll concur with my learned colleague, ‘Doctor’ Hanson. I should have no difficulty treating him with what we have here on the
Queen
."

Meanwhile the group of villagers had been banging futilely on the hull of the Flying Lab with their spears. As Tom arrived in the control cabin to observe what was happening, they stopped at a signal from their chief.

"Now what?" asked Tom.

The old chief seemed to be awaiting something. When Craig Benson entered the cabin and became visible through the downward-slanting viewpane, Chief Dothokan began making gestures.

"He wants me to come out to talk to him," Craig murmured.

"You’re not going to do it?" demanded Tom. "They may capture you, or worse!"

Craig said slowly. "I
am
going out. I’m sure Dothokan will not harm me. In sign language he is offering me protection in the name of his tribal gods—I have never known a Maba to violate a sacred oath like that."

Tom nodded his consent, but said, "We’ll be watching."

Craig went outside and spent several minutes talking animatedly to Dothokan, who stood some distance away. The spear-carriers withdrew to a further distance, watching impassively. Finally the chief turned away, and the others followed.

Reentering the ship, Craig gave an account of the conversation to Tom and the others.

"The Maba are furious. Dothokan says an aircraft flew over the village last night and dropped incendiary canisters that nearly set Ogaphabu on fire and injured dozens of people. They couldn’t see the plane and at first thought it was the work of General Boondah, whose followers periodically attack them to try to drive them across the border. But when the
Sky Queen
appeared, they assumed we were behind the incident. They have no modern weaponry here—the guerrillas confiscated them years ago—so they had to use trickery to repel us."

"Did you explain that we had nothing to do with it?" Ry inquired.

"Yes, and I think Dothokan finally believed me. He said he was greatly ashamed. But he warns us that if we approach the taboo mountain—they call the mountain Goaba—we will not be allowed to enter the village."

Tom expressed surprise. "These people seem too advanced to believe in old superstitions like that."

Mandelia Akwabo spoke up. "Tom, it is not so much that they literally believe that our operation will anger the ancient spirits; it’s just that violating their customs is a sign of great disrespect. They cannot ignore it. Their children would not look up to them if they allowed us to ‘dis’ them like that!"

As Tom and the others nodded their understanding, the intercom buzzed. "Tom, you’d better come up to the infirmary right away," came the worried voice of Doc Simpson. "Arv Hanson has suddenly taken a turn for the worse. I’m afraid he may have been poisoned!"

TOM, Bud at his heels, clattered up the metal stairs to the deck above and burst into the infirmary. Arv lay on a small cot which swung down from a bulkhead, and Tom could see at a glance that he was very ill. His skin had turned pale and splotchy, and perspiration rolled off his brow.

"How do you feel, Arv?" Tom asked gently.

"N-not so good," the big Scandinavian replied. "I’m s-sorry, Tom." His voice was weak, his breathing labored.

"It came on over a matter of minutes," explained Simpson. "I believe the spear-head was dipped in something, a poison or drug that I can’t identify. It seems to be affecting his ability to breathe."

"Now we’ll
have
to fly him to a hospital," Bud declared in a low voice.

Arv began to protest but Tom cut him off. "Save your breath, Arv. We lift off immediately."

Tom and Bud ran back to the control deck. After making an announcement of Arv’s situation and their imminent departure over the ship’s public address speakers, the young inventor revved the jet lifters and began to slowly increase their thrust. The
Sky Queen
began to rise from the clearing—one foot, two feet…

Suddenly the whole ship seemed to quiver and list over to one side.

"Something’s wrong!" Tom cried, hands darting over the controls in an attempt to compensate. But things only worsened: the lifters began to sputter, and Tom had to set the ship down again.

"Not more ice, I hope!" wheezed Ry Cully.

"No sign of that," Tom responded distractedly. "But—look at the instrument panel, Bud!"

The needles and indicators of the various instruments were wiggling wildly back and forth!

"Something must be wrong with the electrical system," suggested Bud. "Maybe the reciprocating capacitors have gotten out of phase."

"Can’t tell," was Tom’s brusque comment. He scooped up the microphone from the control board. "We’ll have to have a medevac chopper fly here from the nearest city." But when Tom attempted radio contact, red warning lights flickered to life on the board and static roared from the loudspeaker. "No go!" proclaimed the blond youth in disgust.

"You surely must have radio equipment with an independent power supply," protested Mandy.

Tom nodded. "Yes—we do—the radio in Terry!"

"But is that strong enough for real distance?" asked Craig.

"I think we’ll be able to find someone in range," Tom responded. "They can relay the message for us."

The group trooped down to the hangar hold, and Tom climbed up into the tank’s control dome. He reappeared a moment later shaking his head in puzzled discouragement.

"The terrasphere’s radiophone is blitzed-out as well," he said. "So it’s not just a problem with the ship’s electrical system."

"But what else could it be?" Craig exclaimed.

Now a foghorn voice spoke up from behind them. "I know what it is, folks," said Chow Winkler. "It’s them mountain spirits! Looks like we got ’em mighty riled up, and they’s workin’ their black magic on us!"

"Charles Winkler!" reproved Mandy. "Tell me you don’t believe in spirits and black magic!"

"Naw, ma’am, I don’t believe in it at all," Chow replied defensively. "But I hear tell it works even if you
don’t
believe!"

Tom rubbed a hand through his ragged crewcut, frantic with worry over his friend. "I know what I’m going to do," he said at last. "If the villagers are familiar with this poison, then they may know of an antidote. I’m going over there on foot to get it."

"We’ll all go together," said Mandy; "those of us who can walk, at least."

Tom shook his head. "No. I don’t want to alarm the villagers, or make them think we’re attacking. Just me, and Craig to translate, since he knows the chief."

"I’m going too!" Bud declared with a veiled glance at Craig. "And if you don’t approve, Tom—
save your breath!"

The three immediately set off through the underbrush in the direction of Ogaphabu, which lay about one mile to the east. The sun was now low on the horizon, and the shadows were reaching out hungrily on all sides.

"Tom, you must have at least a theory about what’s gone wrong with our equipment," Bud urged.

"I always have
plenty
of theories," the young inventor retorted. "It could be some kind of sabotage, of course—perhaps one of those inspectors in Kinshasa planted some kind of device on board, which he activated by remote control. But I’m more inclined to think that our proximity to the taboo mountain is involved—rampaging antiprotons is essentially an electrical phenomenon, you know."