Classic Audiobook Collection - Tom Swift and the Visitor From Planet X by Victor Appleton ~ Full Audiobook [scifi]

Episode Date: June 1, 2023

Tom Swift and the Visitor From Planet X by Victor Appleton audiobook. Genre: scifi Tom Swift Jr. and his associates at Swift Enterprises wait breathlessly for what may well be the most important scientific event in history—the arrival of the visitor from Planet X—a visitor in the form of energy. But there are factions at work determined to snatch the energy, which Tom has named Exman, from the young scientist-inventor's grasp. First, a series of unexplainable, devastating earthquakes threaten to destroy a good portion of the earth, and Tom suspects the Brungarian rebels who obviously would like to capture Exman and use the space visitor to further their own evil purposes. With the security of Enterprises and Exman at stake, Tom creates two of his greatest inventions—a Quakelizor to counteract the simulated earth tremors, and a container or 'body' to house the energy from outer space. If the earthquakes cannot be stopped, the entire world will be threatened by destruction, and the Brungarian forces will conquer the earth. How Tom utilizes all his scientific knowledge to produce swift-action results and outwit the Brungarians makes one of the most exciting Tom Swift adventures to date. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 1 (00:12:09) Chapter 2 (00:22:45) Chapter 3 (00:39:21) Chapter 4 (00:52:07) Chapter 5 (01:01:10) Chapter 6 (01:14:21) Chapter 7 (01:27:14) Chapter 8 (01:39:43) Chapter 9 (01:52:54) Chapter 10 (02:06:05) Chapter 11 (02:14:28) Chapter 12 (02:24:58) Chapter 13 (02:37:31) Chapter 14 (02:52:23) Chapter 15 (03:08:57) Chapter 16 (03:20:46) Chapter 17 (03:33:44) Chapter 18 (03:51:06) Chapter 19 (04:06:09) Chapter 20 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Tom Swift and the visitor from Planet X by Victor Appleton II. Chapter 1, the earthquake. Tom, we're having a problem with the gyro-stabilizer, said Mark Faber, gray-haired president of the Faber Electronics Company. Hope you can find out what's wrong. The 18-year-old inventor accepted the challenge with a smile. I'll be glad to try, sir, he replied. Bud Barkley, a dark-haired young flyer and Tom Swift Jr.''s closest friend, chuckled.

"'If anyone can get the bugs out of your new invention, genius boy here will do it!' The two boys followed Mr. Faber and his engineers to a wooden building which was tightly guarded. Inside, a secret rocket-telemetering device was mounted on its test stand. "'As you know, Tom,' Mr. Faber began, the usual conditions of rocket flight will be—he broke off with a gasp of astonishment as the whole building suddenly began to shake. "'Good grief!' Bud exclaimed. "'This isn't part of your testing routine, is it?'

His question was drowned out by cries of alarm and the sound of cracking glass. The walls and roof were shuddering and creaking, and the concrete floor was heaving under their feet. "'Look out! The test stands breaking loose. Tom warned. Mr. Faber and two of his men tried frantically to brace the heavy test stand, which held the telemetering device. Another engineer rushed toward the door to see what was happening outside. Before he reached it, another shock knocked all of them off their feet. Electronic equipment cascaded from the wall shelves, and a heavy-duty chain hoist came loose from its

overhead track, plunging to the floor with a terrifying crash. An earthquake, Tom gasped. Bud, meanwhile, clawed a handhold on a wire screen enclosing an air compressor and pulled himself to his feet. By the next moment, a third, more violent tremor rocked the building, knocking him over. The roof! It's caving in! he heard someone scream. As his eyes flashed upward in panic, Bud caught a brief glimpse of the ponderous test stand with the priceless telemetre tilting to one side.

An instant later it crashed over, pinning Mark Faber beneath it. Bud threw up his arms to protect himself, but too late. A falling beam caught him on the back of the head, and the young flyer blacked out. For minutes no one stirred among the wreckage. Then Tom, who had been stunned by some falling debris, raised himself to a sitting position. Good night! Tom's eyes focused in horror on the a wreckage enveloped by still billowing dust. The sky was visible through several gaping holes in the roof,

which was sagging dangerously on its supporting trusses. Only two-thirds of the walls were still standing. Suddenly, Tom stiffened in fear. Bud! the young inventor had just noticed his friend lying pin beneath a heavy beam nearby. Was he still breathing? Disregarding his own injuries, Tom hastily freed himself from the debris and groped his way to Bud's side.

With a desperate heave, he shoved the beam away, then cradled Bud's head in his arm. His friend's eyelids flickered. Are you all right? Tom asked fearfully. The answer came in a groan. Oh, wow, what hit me! You got conked by a falling timber, or grazed at least, Tom added, thankfully. If that beam had landed square on your noggin, even a rockhead like you couldn't have survived. Bud managed to grin.

We grow em tough out in California where I come from, he joked. Somewhat shakily, Bud got to his feet with Tom's assistance. Both boys were heart-sick as they surveyed the damaged laboratory, wondering where to begin rescue operations. It was a quake, Bud stated grimly. He had heard about the great San Francisco earthquake from his grandfather, and had no doubt about the nature of the tremors. Just then Tom glimpsed a body protruding from under the wreckage of the telemetering device.

Mr. Faber! he gasped. The two boys scrambled through the clutter of debris toward the spot where the test stand had been erected. Bud seized a slender, steel eyebeam, and managed to pry up the wreckage, while Tom carefully extricated Mr. Faber. The scientists seemed to be badly injured. We'd better not try to move him, Tom decided. We'll get an ambulance. Of the four other company engineers, two were now stirring and partly conscious.

The boys found a first aid cabinet and gave what help they could to them and the other two men. Then Tom taped a bandage on Bud's scalp wound. Let's see if we can find a telephone and call the local hospital, Tom said. Right, Bud resists. responded. They picked their way through the wreckage and emerged on a scene of frightful destruction. The main plant building of Faber Electronics had been partially demolished by the quake. Power lines were down, and an outlying storage shed was ablaze. Dazed and panic-stricken survivors were wandering around aimlessly or rushing about to assist the injured.

Good thing the main shift of workers knocked off before this happened, but observed with a shudder. There would have been a lot more casualties. Look, Tom pointed to a huge crevasse, right where we landed our whirling duck. The boys exchanged rueful glances as they realized that the craft which had brought them to Faber Electronics, one of Tom's unique heli-jets, had been swallowed up in the gaping chasm. No use fussing about it now, Tom said. Come on, bud, let's see about getting help for Mr. Faber. Despite the chaotic confusion, the boys managed to locate the plant superintendent, a harried, middle-aged man named Simpkins, who was doing his best to restore order. Simpkins, who had not been injured, informed them that electricians were rigging an emergency telephone line in order to get through to the nearby town of Harkness.

Mr. Faber is badly injured, Tom said. Why not send a car? It's only a few miles away, isn't it? "'I'll send the plant nurse to see him,' Simkin said. "'As far as going to town, take a look at the parking lot.' He pointed with a jerk of his thumb. The cars on the lot had been smashed into junk by bricks from a collapsing wall of one of the buildings. "'And the only truck we had available was in that burning shed,' the superintendent added bitterly.

"'Tough break,' Tom sympathized. "'Anyhow, we want to help. a job for us? Simpkins was only too glad to put Tom's quick mind and keen technical know-how to use. Within minutes, Tom was in charge of clearing away rubble and extricating anyone who might be trapped inside the buildings. Bud organized a firefighting crew to keep the blaze in the shed from spreading. The telephone line was soon repaired and a steady stream of rescue vehicles began arriving from Harkness, fire trucks, three ambulances, and private cars driven by volunteers. Two hours later, there was nothing more Tom and Bud could do at the disaster

scene, and they hitched a ride into Harkness. The town had suffered some damage, though only slight compared to the destruction at the plant. The center of the quake was right under Fabor Electronics, Tom remarked. From a pay telephone, he called Swift Enterprises in Shopton. This was the experimental station where he and his father developed their many amazing inventions. Tom asked the operator to send a helicopter immediately to pick them up. He also called home and spoke to his sister, Sandra. What a relief, Sandy gasped.

We heard a bulletin about the quake over the radio. Don't worry, sis. Tell mother and dad that we're okay, Tom said. said, "'We'll be home in a jiffy, with big appetites.' The helicopter arrived within twenty minutes at the place Tom had named. After landing at enterprises, the boys drove to the pleasant, tree-shaded, swift home on the outskirts of town. Mrs. Swift, a slender, petite woman, tried not to show concern when she saw the boys, bruised and dishevelled. "'I'm so thankful you're both safe,' she murmured.

Blonde, blue-eyed Sandy, who was a year younger than Tom, had invited her friend Phyllis Newton to the house for dinner. Phil, a pretty, dark-haired girl, was the daughter of Mr. Swift's long-time friend and business associate, Uncle Ned Newton. The two girls were as much upset as Tom's mother. Tom laughed. We're not stretcher cases, he said. Why, one of the ambulance doctors checked us out.

Bud groaned. "'Why did you have to go and spoil it?' he complained jokingly. "'I was all set for Sandy's cool, soothing touch on my fevered brow.' Mr. Swift came into the living-room just then, and told Tom how worried Mrs. Swift and Sandy had been. "'I tried to assure them that you and Bud can take care of yourselves in any crisis.' He smiled guiltily, as he added, "'But I must admit I was more than a little concerned myself.'

As Tom grinned, the resemblance between him and his father was very evident. Both had the same clean-cut features and deep-set blue eyes, although Tom Jr. was lankier and taller. After the two boys had showered and changed their clothes, Mrs. Swift served them a delicious hot meal. While they ate, Mr. Swift managed, after some difficulty to get a call through to the Harkness Hospital. His face was grave. as he hung up. Mark Faber is not expected to live, the elder inventor reported.

A pity, he's a great scientist. Tom nodded unhappily. Sandy, to take her brother's mind off the disaster, said, Dad, tell Tom and Bud about the visitor who's coming. A visitor, Tom looked at his father. From another planet, Mr. Swift revealed. Both boys were amazed.

and excited. Wow, Bud gasped. Male or female. Human or animal. Mr. Swift's eyes twinkled. None of those, he replied as the boy stared, mystified. End of Chapter 1. Next episode, Chapter 2, The Mysterious Hitchhiker.

Tom Swift, and the visitor from Planet X. By Victor Appletes. This is a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visitlibrovox.org. Chapter 2, the mysterious hitchhiker. Tom and Bud were bursting with curiosity. Although the Swifts had been in radio contact with creatures from outer space for many months, this was the most exciting news yet. On one occasion, the unknown beings had moved a small asteroid, the phantom satellite Nestria, into orbit about the earth. Later, they had sent strange samples of the animal life of their planet, aboard orbiting missiles, to be studied by the

Swifts. They had also helped Tom, Bud, and Mr. Swift a number of times when their lives were at stake, while on daring voyages beyond the earth. What was their latest intention? The telephone rang and Sandy went to answer it. "'For Pete's sake, Dad,' Tom pleaded. "'Don't keep us in suspense. Who or what is this visitor?' Mr. Swift smiled at the boy's baffled expressions.

"'The fact is that a message came through today that he was interrupted by Sandy who had come to the door. The phone calls for you, Dad, long distance, from Washington. Bud groaned as Mr. Swift went off to take the call. It's a conspiracy, Bud said. Everyone's ganging up to keep us from finding out about the mysterious visitor. Tom grinned. We lasted through an earthquake this afternoon, pal, he said consolingly.

I guess we can last through a phone call. inwardly Tom was as impatient as bud about the exact nature of the message. Several months ago, the space creatures had sent their first communication in the form of mathematical symbols carved on a black missile which had landed on the grounds of swift enterprises. Tom and his father had decoded the symbols and beamed out a reply over a powerful radio transmitter. Later messages had been picked up by radio telescope and converted to appear as symbols on the oscilloscope screen. Sandy must know what it's all about, Bud broke in.

She's the one who first mentioned the visitor. Of course I know, Sandy said mysteriously. So does Mother, and so does Phil. But don't think we're going to give it away, she added teasingly. Tom and Bud cajoled the two girls and Mrs. Swift for further information. But Sandy and Phil only shook their heads, obviously enjoying the situation. At last we're getting back at them for the way they've neglected us, Phil said, her brown eyes sparkling with laughter.

Come on, Mother, Tom said. Be a sport. You tell us. But Mrs. Swift too shook her head. I'm sorry, Tom, she demure gently. But I think the girls are right. I'll say this much, though. she relented. It will be the biggest challenge that Tom Swift Jr. and senior have ever faced. "'Hugh!' Bud remarked as the two boys glanced at each other. "'That must mean it's plenty big news. It would have to be, Skipper, to top all the other jobs you and your dad have taken on.

Conquering outer space, probing the ocean's secrets, drilling to the earth's core, these were only a few of Tom Swift's many exciting exploits. In his first adventure, Tom, in his flying lab, had gone to South America to fend off a gang of rebels seeking a valuable radioactive ore deposit. In his most recent challenge, Tom had defied the threats of Oriental killers determined to ferret out the secret of the Swift's latest space research.

As the two boys silently recalls, the exciting events of the past months, Mr. Swift returned to the living room. Tom and Bud leaned forward in their chairs. "'Well, boys,' Mr. Swift said, "'as I started to tell you, the space receiver picked up a message today from our unknown planetary friends. The message informed us that they are sending a visitor to Earth, a visitor consisting of pure energy.

Energy? Tom was startled. I don't get it, Dad. Frankly, I don't quite understand it myself, Tom, Sr. confessed. The message didn't explain how or in what form the energy would arrive. But at any rate, they wanted us to construct some sort of container for it. The elder scientist paused thoughtfully. In my opinion, the energy which they speak of must be able to.

a sort of invisible brain. The symbols were rather difficult to decode, but apparently our job will be to construct a device through which the energy will be able to receive impressions of what life is like here on Earth, and also to communicate its own responses to us. Tom sat bolt upright. Dad, this is terrific news, he exclaimed. If we're able to make this energy or brain communicate, it may be able to tell us what the space people are like. Mr. Swift nodded. His own eyes were blazing with as much excitement as Tom's were. Bud, too, was deeply impressed, but could not resist quipping.

What sort of body will you give it? How about a beautiful, super-intelligent space girl for me to date? Nothing doing, Sandy retorted mischievously. I insist on a handsome young. young man who'd have time to take two nice earth girls out on dates. Ouch, Bud pretended to wince. I really left myself wide open for that one. Mrs. Swift put in,

goodness, mightn't it get out of control and be rather overpowering? Suppose it went berserk. Rather an unpleasant possibility, Mr. Swift agreed, smiling Riley. But I trust our space for. wouldn't let that happen. Both he and Tom became thoughtful as they discussed the problem. The energy will arrive in two weeks, Mr. Swift added. Unfortunately, that phone call was a request that I go to Washington on urgent government

business. So you may have to take over and work out a solution on your own, Tom. It was a sobering thought to the young inventor. You were right, Mother, this is a good one. a terrific challenge. Soon afterward, the little gathering broke up. Bud, who had left his own convertible at the Swifts that morning, offered to drop Phil at her home. Tom awoke the next morning, refreshed by a good night's sleep. After a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, he drove off to enterprises in his low-slung silver sports car. Think I'll listen to the news, Tom thought, and switched on his

dashboard radio. A moment later, the announcer's voice came over the loudspeaker. Casualties from yesterday's disastrous earthquake now total 31 injured, the announcer reported. Most of these are employees of the Faber Electronics Plant, and four are in critical condition. There is one note of cheer, however. At last report, Mark Faber, the brilliant president of the company, is now expected to recover. Tom gave a thank you. thankful sigh of relief. The announcer continued. The nearby town of Harkness was only lightly damaged,

but the plant itself was almost totally demolished. No estimate of the losses has been released, but will certainly run into millions of dollars, including some highly secret defense items which were being developed at the plant. Scientists are puzzled by the severity of the quake in what had been considered a dead area. For the first time, Tom, too, was struck by this curious aspect of the disaster.

So far as he knew, no serious tremors had ever before been reported within hundreds of miles of the region. He was mulling over the matter as he drove along a lonely wooded area, not far from Lake Carlopa. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted as a man stepped out from among the trees ahead and gestured with his thumb for a ride. "'Sorry, Mr,' Tom reflected, "'but I've had trouble with hitchhikers before.' He shook his head to let the man know that he did not intend to stop. To the young inventor's amazement,

the pedestrian deliberately stepped onto the road, squarely in the path of Tom's oncoming car. Tom jammed on the brakes, and the silver sports car screeched to a stop. Only a quick twist of the wheel had prevented an accident. somewhat angrily Tom exclaimed, "'What's the big idea, mister? Don't you realize you might have been—' "'Shut up!' the stranger snarled.

In an instant the man had yanked open the door and climbed in beside Tom. "'Take me inside the grounds of swift enterprises,' he commanded in a foreign accent. "'And no tricks, or you will regret it.' End of Chapter 2. Next episode, Chapter 3. Report from Interpol Tom Swift

and the visitor from Planet X by Victor Appleton the 2nd This is a Libervox recording All Libervox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Visit Libravox.org Chapter 3 Report from Interpol Tom astonished stared at the stranger

Who are you? The young inventor demanded "'Never mind who I am. Just do as I say.' By this time Tom had recovered from his surprise and coolly sized up his enemy. The man was about thirty years old, with close-cropped black hair. Steady eyes glinted in a lean, hard-jawed face. Tom wondered, should I risk a fight, or is he armed? As if in answer the stranger growled, I gave you an order, my friend. Don't press your luck. Get going. As he spoke, the man thrust one hand deep into his coat pocket, and Tom felt something hard

poke against his ribs. The young inventor drove on, but proceeded slowly. He wanted time to think. Presently, swift enterprises, enclosed by a high wall, came into view. Tom's brain was working fast. At last, he decided on a ruse. He would head for the main gate, get out, and use his electronic key without waiting for the guard to admit him. At the same time, he would press a secret warning bell to alert the swift security force. But the stranger seemed to read his thoughts. As Tom started to turn off toward the main gate, his passenger snapped, "'Go to the private gate which you and your father use.' "'And if I refuse?' Again the hard object poked into his ribs.

"'You will be what you call in this country a dead duck,' the stranger warned. "'I will then let myself in with your key.' Tight-lipped. Tom drove on another half-mile, then turned in at the private gate. The man got out with him as Tom walked up to the gate and beamed his electronic key at the hidden mechanism. Instantly the gate swung open, then closed again automatically after the car passed through. Tom parked in his usual spot. The stranger kept his hand in his pocket, still covering Tom, but glancing around cautiously.

The sprawling experimental station was a vast four-mile square area with a cluster of gleaming modern laboratory buildings and workshops. In the distance, a tall glass-in control tower overlooked. the Enterprise's long runways for jet planes. Suddenly the stranger stiffened. A ponchy, bow-legged figure, topped by a white Texas sombrero, was coming straight toward them. Tom's heart gave a leap of hope.

The man was Chow Winkler, formerly a chuck-wagon cook, and now head chef for the Swift's expeditions. Ha-ha, boss! Chow bellowed in his fog-horn voice. As usual, he was. was wearing a gaudy cowboy shirt. "'Who's the new Buckaroo?' the cook added,

squinting at the stranger with open but friendly curiosity. "'Why, actually, I don't know his name yet, but he's looking for a job,' Tom replied. Turning to the stranger, he added, "'What is your name, Mr?' Chow's eyes narrowed. He had detected something strange. strange in the way Tom addressed the fellow as Mr. and had also noticed how the man kept one hand hidden in his pocket.

Looking to Tom for a lead, Chow suddenly noticed the young inventor make a quick thumbs-down gesture. "'My name is—' the man's voice fell to a mumble, obscuring the syllables. Frankly, I am not yet sure I desire a job here, but being an engineer, I thought perhaps—' The man's gaze switched back to Tom, and in that instant, Chow jumped the intruder. With surprising agility for his rotund bulk, the cook bore down on him and let fly a gnarled fist at the stranger's jaw. Tom followed up like lightning, grabbing the man's wrist and yanking his hand

out of his pocket. He was clutching a snub-nosed automatic. Tom twisted it from his grasp as the man landed, writhing on the hard ground. Chow quickly pinned his other arm. arm and drove a knee into the man's solar plexus. "'Just lie quiet now, you varm it, or you might get yourself ruffed up a bit,' Chow warned, and then added, "'Who is he, Tom?' "'Search me. He stopped my car on the road and forced me to drive him in through the private gate. Boy, was I ever glad to see you, old-timer!' Tom emptied out the clip of shells. Then he searched the stranger, while Chow continued holding

him down. The man carried no wallet, papers, or other means of identification. Brand my tumble-eat salad, Chow grumbled. He sure wasn't taking no chances on people finding out who he is. Which proves he's some sort of crooked cow-poke. Honest ones ain't a fear to showing their own brand. The man muttered something angrily in a foreign tongue. Chow merely pressed down harder with his knee. "'What'll we do with him, boss?' "'Let him up, Chow,' Tom said. "'Security should be here any second.'

Even as he spoke, Tom glimpsed a jeep speeding toward them in the distance. The young inventor knew what had happened. Since the stranger did not have the special electronic wrist amulet worn by all swift employees, his presence had automatically shown up on the master radar scope. A security squad was coming to investigate. As Chow released the man, he got to his feet slowly. Then, without warning, he suddenly butted the cook square in the stomach. Chow was knocked sprawling.

Before Tom could counter the surprise attack, the man's fist cracked against his cheekbone. Tom, though stunned, lashed out. More punches flew back and forth. Tom landed a stinging blow to his opponent's midriff, then took a punishing one himself. Suddenly, Tom felt the stranger's hand clawing at his pocket for the key to the gate. With all his wiry strength, Tom locked his arms around the man and wrestled him to the ground. The stranger fought like a tiger. But a second later, a jeep screeched to a stop.

Three security guards, led by stocky Phil Radner, leaped out. Within moments they had the man subdued. Tom quickly briefed the security men. on what had happened. All right, mister, start talking, snapped Radner, head security police officer. The man's only reply was a scowl of rage. Okay, take him away till he cools off, Tom ordered.

Disheveled and still panting, the man was bundled into the Jeep and driven off to the security building. Tom arrived there by motor scooter several minutes later. Harlan Ames, the slim, dark-haired security, chief of enterprises had taken charge of the case, and the prisoner was now being fingerprinted and photographed. Any leads? Tom inquired. Ames shook his head. He won't talk, and we've nothing on him in our files. His clothes have no tags or laundry marks, but I'd say they're a foreign make. Tom nodded. He's definitely foreign. He spoke with an accent, and he also muttered something at Chow. I didn't

catch it, but it certainly wasn't in English. Ames frowned. I don't like the looks of this, Skipper. He may be a spy. Have you notified the police? Tom asked. Right, also the FBI. They're on the way right now to pick him up.

Maybe they'll be able to worm something out of him. Tom spent the morning in routine work in the big double office, which he shared with his father in Enterprise's main building. It was equipped with huge twin modern desks, deep pile carpeting, and roomy leather chairs. Each of the two inventors had his own drawing board, designed to swing out from the wall at the press of a button. Small-scale models of some of their most famous inventions were also placed about the office, including a red and silver replica of Tom's first rocket ship, the Star-spear, a blue plastic model of the jet marine in which he had fought a band,

of undersea pirates, and also a gleaming silvery model of Tom's latest unique spacecraft, the cosmic sailor. Because of his father's absence in Washington, the burden of administering the vast experimental station now fell on Tom's youthful shoulders. Telephone calls, letters, and other detailed work occupied him until noon. Chow broke in, bringing a lunch tray with milk, a hot chicken sandwich, and a chocolate Eclare. Tom ate hungrily. Kind of peps up the old supercharger, eh? said Chow, lingering to chat.

Sure does, Tom agreed. Well, just remember that. Don't go missing any meals, or sleep either. Chow advised as he gathered up the tray. A brainy young hombre like you needs plenty of rusted vitamins to keep from burning himself out. "'I'll remember,' Tom grinned affectionately as the leathery-faced old Texan took his leave. The Swifts had first met Chow when they were on an atomic research expedition in the southwest.

Chow had become so attached to Tom that he had returned to Shopton with the Swifts as a permanent employee. Soon after Chow left the office, the telephone rang. Tom took the call and had just finished talking with Harlan Ames when Bud came strolling in. "'Any more news on that nut who jumped you this morning?' the young flyer asked. Ames told me about it. "'Not yet, but there may be soon,' Tom said. Harlan just phoned and said he'd had a call from Washington, asking us to stand by the video phone at 1.30 sharp.

Ames arrived in person shortly before the scheduled time. Moments later, a red signal flashed on the control board of the Swift's private TV network. Tom flicked on the video phone. and two men appeared on the screen. One was Blake, the Swift's Washington, D.C., telecaster. He introduced the other man, a calm-faced, balding individual in a dark suit. This is John Thurston of the Central Intelligence Agency, Tom,

Blake said. He thought it might be better to discuss this with you face to face. Tom, Bud, and Ames were also visible to the pair in Washington. Glad to know you, sir, Tom said. and introduced his companions. We've identified the man you captured this morning, Thurston began. He's in the United States on a French passport under the name of Jacques Renard. But we've just learned from the International Police Organization that he's actually a Brungarian.

His name is Samson Narco. Tom and Ames exchanged startled glances. In the past, certain Brungarian factions had been responsible, for some of the most fiendish plots ever perpetrated against the Swifts. Unfortunately, that's not all, Thurston went on. Interpol also believes that Narco is also a member of the same rebel outfit with whom you've had trouble before. Tom was dismayed by the news.

"'I sure thought that group had been smashed,' he said. Soon after Tom had balked their attempts to seize the satellite, Nestria, the rebel ringleaders had reportedly been arrested and tried for treason. It now appears, Thurston explained, that only one segment was quelled. Other members of the anti-government movement are active again and are said to be strongly organized. The CIA man related even more sinister news. It was suspected that a larger nation, by aiding the rebels, was planning a coup to take over Brungaria. They had already subverted various government agencies

and were sending their own professors to staff the Brungarian technical schools. It was all part of their insidious fifth-colum pattern. Many top Brungarian officials have joined the plotters, Thurston added, and it's now becoming very difficult for anyone to enter or leave the country. Ames asked for information on any rebel-south. sympathizers known to be in the United States. Thurston was able to tell him very little. We keep strict tabs, of course, on all Brungarians entering this country, Thurston explained, but even though we screen them carefully, a rebel agent like Narco may slip in, usually on a stolen

or faked passport. When the telecast ended, Tom, Bud, and Ames discussed the news grimly. What if Narco has pals working with him? Bud conjectured. "'If he does,' Tom said, "'they may try carrying through Narco's mission.' "'I'll station extra guards around the outer wall on 24-hour alert,' Ames promised. Tom approved this measure wholeheartedly,

but the purpose of Narco's secret mission remained a mystery. Why had he tried to force his way into enterprises? What was he after? There was little hope of resolving these questions, since United States intelligence had learned of the rebel movement itself only within the past few days. Thurston had asked Tom and his companions to treat the information as confidential. I'd better get back to work, Tom decided, after Bud and Ames had left his office. Tom sat down at his drawing board and began to sketch out some rough ideas for a vehicle to house the brain energy from space.

Tom wondered if the brain would be able to perform actions itself, given the proper mechanical output devices. Or would he have to help it function via an electronic computer to digest incoming information or stimuli, and then to respond through servo controls? The problem was so baffling and complex that Tom became completely oblivious to the passage of time. He sketched out plan after plan, only to crumple and discard each one. Suddenly, a disturbing thought jarred the young inventor out of his concentration. Perhaps the Brungarian rebel scientists had now figured out how to decode the radio messages

from the Swift's space friends. If so, when the brain energy was launched toward Earth, they may try to divert it to their own receiving setup. End of Chapter 3. Next episode, Chapter 4. Another Tremor. Tom Swift, and the visitor from Planet X, by Victor Appleton II. This is a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, visit LibraVox.org. Chapter 4. Another Tremor. Tom was appalled at this new danger. Shoving his drawing board back into its wall slot, the young inventor hurried to his desk and made a number of telephone calls. Within minutes, a group of five of his most trusted associates had assembled in Tom's office. First to arrive were Bud Barkley, Ames, and George Dilling, the Swift's Communications Chief. They were joined moments later by Hank Sterling, the Square-jawed chief engineer and troubleshooter of enterprises, and Arvid Hanson. Hanson, a hulking six-footer,

made all the delicate-scale models of Tom Juniors and Tom Sr.'s inventions. He was not only an expert craftsman, but, like all the Swift's key men, a trained aircraft and space pilot as well. "'What's up, Skipper?' Bud asked. "'I guess you might call this a Council of War,' Tom replied. He divulged his fears that Brungarian scientists might hijack the brain energy to be sent from Planet X, home of the Swift's unknown space friends.

Bud, you recall Mother's remark last night about the danger that this energy may prove overwhelmingly powerful, Tom went on. Well, just suppose that our Brungarian pals fitted out in robot form, then turn it loose against us, or our friends in other countries. Bud gave an awed whistle.

Boy, a thing like that might make you, even a powerful missile look like a toy. Even if the brain energy proved too small to be harnessed for destructive purposes, Tom went on, it might turn out to possess superintelligence. Gifted with all the scientific know-how of the space people, it might be made to reveal those secrets to the Brungarians. They might learn from it how to construct weapons or spacecraft powerful enough to conquer the free world,

Tom ended. His listeners were grim-faced at the thought. I'd say that's a far worse danger than any chance of their coming up with a robot monster, Ames said. Ditto, Hanson agreed. I think so, too, Tom replied. In any case, it's up to us to make sure the Brungarians don't switch that energy off course before it lands here. Think their scientists are capable of succumburg, a stunt," George Dilling inquired. Tom shrugged. They're certainly far advanced in the fields of rocket guidance and telemetry, but actually we

just don't know." Hank Sterling glanced hopefully at the young inventor. "'Got any ideas, Skipper?' he asked. Tom drummed a pencil on the table thoughtfully before replying. "'Maybe our best bet is first to find out all we can about the lines of research on which they're concentrating. That might be a tip-off. After a thorough discussion, it was decided that Ames and Dilling would fly to Washington at once and talk to the FBI and Central Intelligence. Their job would be to garner and piece together every scrap of information

on Brungarian scientist's accomplishments. Let us know as soon as you get a general picture, Tom said. Ames and Dilling promised to do so, and the meat. beating broke up. Feeling somewhat reassured now that a definite plan of action had been decided upon, Tom resumed work on his sketches. Although both the problem and the solution were still hazy in his mind, a few ideas began to take shape. A radio antenna would certainly be needed to receive or transmit signals at a distance. Andrapelotron units would give the brain a way to exert force when it wanted to act. These were devices which Tom had invented to produce a repulsion force ray.

He had used the principle in both air and spaceflight. A power plant might also be needed to generate additional energy in case the brain's own energy was very small. Lastly, there would have to be a control system for use either by the brain itself or by its human operators. After an hour of work at top speed, Tom was rather pleased with one rough sketch. He was mulling over the idea when Chao Winkler and Bud Barclay wandered into the office. Both were impressed when Tom explained the sketch.

Chow stared at it, goggled at the thought of such a contraption coming to life. So that's the old think-box, eh? he muttered. Tom laughed. Good name, Chao. All three were startled as a voice suddenly broke in over the wall intercom. It was the operator on duty at the plant's communication center. "'Turn on your TV, Skipper,' the operator suggested. "'We've just had a news bulletin that an earthquake tremor has been felt over in Medfield. There's a big plant there that makes rocket-nose cones. A mobile TV crew has been rushed to the scene in a helicopter, and they're trying to pick up the action with a television camera. "'Good night! Another quake!' Bud gasped.

Tom had already rushed to the video phone. Flicking it on, he switched to a commercial channel. Soon a picture appeared on the screen. It was a panoramic shot of a landscape, evidently viewed from a hovering aircraft, with a large industrial plant just below. A TV commentator's voice was reporting developments. Few visible signs of a tremor, he said. As you can see, the rocket plant personnel and the people of Medfield are making desperate attempts to evacuate. Fortunately, most of them have already left the immediate area. A few cars and trucks could still be seen speeding along the ribbon-like roads within view of the hovering television camera.

Oh, oh! The commentator's voice broke in again. Notice that tall stack just over the plant. See how it's starting to tremble. It's beginning to crumble. This must be it. Suddenly the whole scene seemed to explode. Plant buildings collapsed like toy houses built of cards, while at the same time huge rocks and trees were uprooted as a yawning crack opened in the ground below. The three watchers in Tom's office stared in horrified dismay. But a moment later, the picture on the TV screen became jerky and distorted. then faded out completely.

After a brief interval, a studio announcer came on. The relay transmitter must have been knocked out by the quake. We return you now to our regularly scheduled program, but we'll keep you informed as bulletins come in. Great balls of fire! Chow gulped as Tom turned off the set. I sure hope all those poor folks in cars got away safe. Tom rushed to a wall shelf and pulled out a book on geology. He leaped quickly to a section dealing with known earthquake faults and the distribution of quakes.

When he looked up at the others, his face was grim. What's wrong, Skipper? Bud asked tensely. That quake, Tom replied, wasn't in a pattern zone any more than the favor one was. Chow's jaw dropped open in a comic look of dismay. "'You mean this here old earth we live on is getting all busted up and twisted around inside?' "'I wish I knew, Chow,' Tom paced worriedly about the office. "'It just seems queer to me that both of those quakes should have destroyed vital defense factories.'

On a sudden impulse, Tom snatched up the telephone. His two companions listened as he put through a call to the FBI in Washington. Within moments, a friend at the bureau, Wes Norris, came on the line. "'Look, Wes,' Tom said. "'Is there any chance this quake that just happened at Medfield and the earlier one at Faber Electronics might have been caused by underground H-bomb blasts?' "'As a matter of fact, we're checking on that very possibility,' Norris replied. "'In other words, sabotage.

"'Things are pretty hot around here since that news on Medfield came in, so I can't talk much right now, Tom. But I can tell you this, West concluded. We are investigating, and I do mean thoroughly. Bud and Chow were shocked when Tom reported his conversation with the FBI agent. Brand by rattlesnakes do, Chow exploded. Any ordinary varmint that had caused an earthquake ought to be strung up like a horse thief. I agree, Chow, Tom said.

But how do we find out for sure? After closing time at the plant, Bud drove home with Tom. Both Mrs. Swift and Sandy were upset as the boys discussed the situation. Tom, if this was deliberate, Mrs. Swift pointed out, enterprises may be next on the enemy's list. Tom did his best to allay his mother's fears, but inwardly he himself felt apprehensive. Any large-scale sabotage plot would be almost certain to include Swift Enterprises,

America's most daring and advanced research center. When his mother went upstairs to her room, Tom suggested to Bud that they drive out to the nearby state police post. Here he confided his fears to Captain Rock, an old friend of the Swift's. You have some request in mind? Captain Rock inquired. "'How about making a search for any signs of suspicious digging or underground activity in the vicinity of Shopton?' Tom said.

"'There would have to be an excavation of some sort in order to set off an underground blast.' Captain Rock mulled over Tom's suggestion. "' Sounds like a big job, but I'm afraid you're right, Tom. We can't risk a similar disaster here. "'We'd better move fast, too, Bud put in. Those two quakes so far came only a day apart. Rock picked up the telephone and barked out orders. Within half an hour, several carloads of troopers were covering the outlying roads that converged on Shopton.

Firemen and Chief Slater's town police force were also pressed into action. They would search every cellar in town for signs of recent digging. Bud rode in one police car and Tom in another as a house-to-house search was conducted along the highway that ran past enterprises. At one weather-beaten house, where Bud stopped with a state trooper, an old man came to the door. "'What you fetters prowling around for?' he asked. "'Bomb emergency,' the trooper said laconically. "'We have orders to search every house-seller for underground openings.' Grumbling, the old man let them enter. He followed them down a rickety stairway.

A moment later, Bud stumbled and gave a yell. The trooper swung around, just in time to see Bud, drop from view. End of Chapter 4. Next episode, Chapter 5, Secret Cash. Tom Swift, and the visitor from Planet X. By Victor Appleton II. This is a Liberbox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit Librevonks.org.

Chapter 5. Secret Cash As the trooper's flashlight stabbed through the cellar gloom at the spot where Bud had disappeared, there came a loud splash. The light showed a round hole in the floor, rimmed by a low circle of brickwork. What's that hole? The trooper snapped at the owner. What does it look like? The elderly man snapped back. It's an old well."

A well! The trooper exclaimed as he rushed to the spot, and not even covered. What are you trying to do? Kill people? The old man sniffed. Used to be covered, but the lid's gone. Didn't expect to have a bunch of nosy feathers

poking around down here. The state trooper muttered angrily under his breath as he shone his flashlight into the well shaft. Bud was splashing around below, soaked and chagrined by his accident. Give me a hand up, he called up. The trooper reached down and was barely able to touch Bud's fingertips. To make matters worse, the sides of the well were slippery with moss.

Get a rope, the trooper ordered the old man. He ain't got one. The policeman reddened and stood up to his full six-foot-two. Look, mister, what's your name? The elderly man shrank back, as if suspecting that the trooper's patience might have been tried too far. Ben Smith, he mumbled. Okay, Mr. Smith, you get a rope or something else to pull this boy out, and fast.

Ben Smith gulped on his chewing tobacco and hurried off. A minute or so later he returned with a length of clothesline. The trooper lowered it into the well, and Bud was soon climbing out, looking like a drenched rat. Sorry, son, Smith said apologetically. "'Guess I should have warned you.' Bud chuckled good-naturedly. "'It's all right,' he said.

"'It was my own fault for not watching where I was going. Besides, you can't blame an American for not liking the idea of having his home searched.' The old man chuckled too and flashed a wary eye at the trooper. "'I'll go get you a towel to dry off with,' he told Bud. Meanwhile, Tom was investigating a house down the road with another state trooper. The owner, a paunchy unshaven bachelor named Pete Laddy, and his 17-year-old nephew accompanied them to the basement. A naked light bulb, hanging from the ceiling, revealed an ancient furnace and an accumulation of junk. Most of it was covered with dust, but Tom noticed a large packing

crate that looked as if it had been freshly moved. He walked over and began to shove the heavy box aside. "'What are you doing?' Lattie asked. gruffly. "'I want to look underneath,' Tom replied. A second later his eyes widened as he saw a trap-door, evidently leading to a sub-seller. Tom beckoned his partner over and showed his discovery.

"'What does this lead to?' the trooper asked, turning back to Lattie. "'Just a little storage place?' the owner replied with a shrug. "'Well, I didn't think it was worth mentioning. "'You better not go down there,' he added hastily. the steps ain't safe. Just the same, we'll take a look, the trooper said. Dan, do it at your own risk, laddie snapped. The officer pulled up the trap-door and Tom shone a light down.

The shallow dirt-walled room below was about six feet square. On the floor, at the foot of the short rickety ladder, lay a large bundle wrapped in a tarpaulin. Tom descended the ladder cautiously and opened the tarpaulin to see what was inside. The contents made him gasp, a large, well-oiled collection of rifles and pistols. Looking up, Tom saw both the state trooper and Laddy peering down at him. The trooper open-mouthed with surprise. Laddy scowling nervously. "'Don't touch them,' Laddy warned. Some are loaded. I keep them hidden for safety,

but sometimes my nephew Fred here and I have target practice. Just then Tom's keen eyes spotted a slip of paper tucked among the guns. He pulled it out. His heart gave a leap of excitement as he saw two words written on the paper. Samson Narco. Hiding his amazement, Tom read the name aloud and added casually, What's this? The make of one of your guns? Ah, yeah, that's right, the man replied. Without comment, Tom climbed out of the subseller. As he bent down to drop the trap door,

Tom flashed the officer a signal. Instantly, the trooper grabbed Laddy. "'Eh, why the rough stuff?' the prisoner exclaimed. Then, as he realized the officer was about to handcuff him, the man's face turned pasty white. He pulled free from the trooper's grasp and bolted toward the stairway. His nephew stood as if paralyzed. at the sudden turn of events. Laddy's attempt at flight was hopeless. Tom quickly brought him down with a flying tackle. Later, after Laddy had been manacled, Tom helped him up.

In case you don't know it, the young inventor said coldly, your friend Narco is in jail, so you might as well talk. What's the pitch? Laddy was trembling and still pale. I didn't know there be any trouble. trouble with the cops, or I'd never have done it," he quavered. Narco offered me some dough to hide the guns. I needed money, so I took him up. That's all there was to it. How long have you known this Narco?" Tom asked.

I met him a few days ago in a restaurant. Believe me, I'd never laid eyes on him before, and I wish I'd never had, Laddy added bitterly. The man's story had a ring of truth. All right, officer, let's take him in, said Tom. To the still astounded Fred, he added, We're sorry about this. Two hours later, Tom and Buds sat in Chief Slater's office at Shopton Police headquarters.

Captain Rock and the Shopton Fire Chief were also on hand. We've had troopers, detectives, and fire inspector swarming all over Laddy's place, Captain Rock reported. They examined his house. the garage, two sheds out back, and every inch of the grounds. But there's no indication of any place where a bomb might have been planted to cause an underground explosion in Shopton. The fire chief nodded confirmation.

So, that clue peters out, he said. With the waning of daylight, the other groups had finally abandoned their search of the Shopton area without turning up any information. I'll notify the FBI immediately, Chief Slater said. Nevertheless, he promised that his men would continue their efforts the next day. Even if we find nothing more, that arms cash was worth all the trouble, Slater added. The country owes you a vote of thanks, Tom. A bunch of enemy agents could have hurt a lot of people with an arsenal like that.

That's for sure, Captain Rock agreed. It was a good day's hall. The two boys drove back to the Swift home and had a quick shower. Bud borrowed clean clothes from Tom. Then they sat down to enjoy a warmed-up but tasty supper, served by Sandy and Mrs. Swift. As they ate, the boys listened to music on the radio, interspersed with eager questions from Sandy about the bomb search. Suddenly the radio announcer broke in.

We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an important news bulletin. End of chapter 5. Next episode, Chapter 6, Brungarian coup. I'm Swift, and the visitor from Planet X, by Victor Appleton II. This is a Liberbox recording.

All Liberbox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, visit LibraVox.org. Chapter 6, Brungarian Co. Tom, Sandy, and Budd listened as the radio announcer continued. Reports just in say that Brungaria has been taken over by a rebel group. Military aid to support the rebel coup is pouring in from Morivia, Brungaria's powerful province in the north. The Brungarian Prime Minister,

his cabinet, and all loyal administrative personnel have fled or been arrested. Worried United States State Department officials admit that the surprise coup poses a new and dangerous threat to free world security. Further news reports will be broadcast as soon as they reached this station. The announcer ended. For a moment, Tom and Bud were too stunned to speak. Sandy was wide-eyed with the realization that the news spelled trouble for Swift Enterprises and all America. Looks as though that CIA man who briefed us wasn't kidding, may, Skipper?

Bud muttered at last. It came sooner than we expected, Tom said. Jumping up from the table, Tom switched off the radio and hurried to the hall telephone. In a few moments, he managed to get a long-distance call-through to Wes Norris of the FBI. Is the news on this Brungarian coup as bad as it sounds, Wes? Tom inquired. Worse! That rebel bunch really has it in for us. As you know, Tom, Norris replied. They envy America, and they'll love. move heaven and earth to steal our scientific secrets. This could touch off a whole epidemic

of sabotage and other spy activity. Tom's jaw clenched grimly. He then asked the FBI man his opinion about the discovery of the secret arms cache in Pete Laddy's basement. Norris admitted he was puzzled. "'It doesn't add up, Tom,' the FBI agent said thoughtfully. If our enemies were planning to destroy Shopton by a quake, why would anybody be needing a gun? I can't figure it myself, Wes. Unless they were planning to raid and loot enterprises after the place was thrown into disorder, Tom deduced. What about Narco himself? Has he talked yet? Norris replied that, although he had not interviewed Narco himself, FBI agents who had grilled the spy had failed to elicit any information. Here's some. Here's

something else, though, which might interest you, Norris went on. We now have reports that at the time of the Harkness and Medfield disasters, seismographs recorded simultaneous quakes off the coast of Alaska, near the Aleutian chain. Tremors were also felt off the southwest coast of South America. A new factor to consider! Tom frowned in puzzlement as he hung up the telephone after completing his talk with the FBI man. After Tom had repeated the conversation to his companions, Bud said, You mean the H-bomb idea goes out the window?

Tom shrugged. Wes says they found no evidence to support the theory of man-produced underground blasts. It just doesn't jive with those other remote tremors. They'd be too much of a coincidence, happening at the same time. Then the quakes at Harkness and men, feel were real earthquakes, Sandy put in. Looks that way, Tom admitted.

Those other tremors, Wes mentioned, follow a natural circum-pacific belt, which is well known to seismologists. I'm no expert, but perhaps they could have set off chain reactions below the earth's crust, which triggered the two quakes in this part of the country. In that case, the young inventor reflected, it was only a freak of nature that the Faber and nosecone factories have been wrecked by the shock. But in spite of the seismographic clues, Tom was not entirely convinced. A nagging doubt still buzzed in the back of his mind.

The next morning, Tom hurried off to his private glass-wall laboratory at enterprises, eager to continue work on his container, or robot body, for the brain from space. Tom frowned as he studied the rough sketch he had drawn in his office the afternoon before. This set-ups full of bugs, he muttered. Nevertheless, Tom decided, the basic idea was sound. Grabbing pencil and slide rule, he began to dash off page after page of diagrams and equations.

"'Cow down!' boomed a foghorn voice. Chow Winkler, wearing a white chef's hat, wheeled a lunch cart into the lab. "'Oh, thanks. Tom scarcely looked up for the first. from his work as the cook set out an appetizing meal of Texas hash, milk, and deep-dish-apple pie on the bench beside the young inventor's papers. Grumbling under his breath, Chow sauntered out. Tom went on working intently between mouthfuls. In another hour, he had finished a set of pilot drawings. Then he called Hank Sterling and Arvid Hanson and asked them to come to the laboratory.

They listened with keen interest as Tom explained his latest creation. "'No telling if it will work when the energy arrives from space,' Tom said. "'But I think everything tracks okay. Hank, get these plans blueprinted and assign an electronics group to the project. You'd better handle the hardware yourself.' "'Right,' Hank rolled up the sketches. "'And Arv,' Tom went on. "'I'd like a scale model made to guide them on assembly.

How soon can you have it?' Hanson promised the model for some time the next day. and the two men hurried off. As usual, Arv proved slightly better than his word. The expert modelmaker was devoted to his craft and is apt to forget the clock as Tom himself, when absorbed in a new project. By working on in his shop long after closing hours,

Hanson had a desk-sized model of the space-brain robot ready for Tom's inspection when the young inventor arrived at the plant early the following morning. "'Wonderful, Arv,' Tom approved. "'Every time I see one of your models of a new invention, "'I'm sure it'll work,' Hanson grinned, pleased at the compliment. Tom hopped into a jeep and sped across the plant grounds to deliver the model to Hank Sterling and his project crew.

Work was already well along on the electronic sub-assemblies and the strange-looking body was taking shape. That afternoon, Ames and Dilling returned from Washington. The report they gave to Tom bore out his hunch that the rebel Brungarian scientists might well be able to divert the space energy. The next day was Friday. Tom was hoping, although none too optimistically, that the container might be completed before the weekend.

To his delight, an Enterprise's pickup truck pulled up outside the laboratory later that afternoon, and Hank rolled the queer-looking device inside. "'Hi, Buster!' Tom greeted it. "'Is this your daddy?' Hank chuckled. "'Don't look at me. It claims you're its daddy. But hanged if I can see much resemblance. Think it'll live? If not,' Hank replied, only half jokingly. The boys who worked on it will sure be disappointed. "'No kidding, Skipper. That's quite a gadget.

it you dreamed up. The device stood about shoulder-high with a star-shaped head, one point of which could be opened. The head would contain the actual brain energy. Its upper body, cylindrical in shape and of gleaming chrome, house the output units through which the brain would react, and also the controls. Antennas projecting out on either side gave the look of arms. Its waist was girdled with a ring of rappelotron radiators for exerting a repulsion force when it wanted to move by repelling itself away from nearby objects. Below the repellatrons was an hourglass-shaped power unit, housing a solar-charged battery. The power unit, in turn, was mounted on a pancake-shaped transportation unit. This unit was equipped with both casters and a sort of caterpillar crawler

arrangement, for the contrivance to get about over obstacles. Inside was a gyro-stabilizer to keep the whole device upright. Tom felt a glow of pride and eager impatience as he inspected the device. If it worked as he hoped, this odd creature might one day provide Earth scientists with a priceless store of information about intelligent life on planet X. Bud and Chow, entering the laboratory soon after Hank Sterling had left, found Tom still engrossed in his thoughts. Wow! Is that your spaceman? Bud inquired. Tom nodded, then grinned at his caller's gaping expressions. Each was trying to imagine how the thing would look in action.

Sure is a queer-looking Buccaroo, Chow commented when Tom finished explaining how it was supposed to to work. On a sudden impulse, the old cow-poke took off his ten-gallon hat and plumped it on the creature. Then he removed his polka-dotted red bandana and nodded it like a neckerchief just below the starhead. Tom laughed heartily as Bud howled, Radham Space Man! Tom was eager to notify his mysterious space friends that the container was now ready to receive the brain energy. Bud went with him by Gene. deep to the Space Communications Laboratory. Chow, however, stayed behind and stared in fascination at the odd-looking robot creature. The stout cook walked back and forth, eyeing the thing

suspiciously from every angle. "'Wonder what the critter eats,' he muttered. Feeling in his shirt pocket, Chow brought out a wad of his favorite bubble gum. Should he or shouldn't he? Shooks wouldn't hurt to try, the old Texan decided. Chow unlocked the hinged point of the starhead and popped the gum inside. He was somewhat disappointed when nothing happened. Feeling a trifle foolish, Chao finally removed his hat and bandana from the creature and stomped off. Meanwhile, in the Space Communications Laboratory, Tom was pounding out a message on the keyboard of the electronic brain. Tom had invented this device for automatically coding and decoding messages between the

Swifts and their space friends. It was connected to a powerful transmitting and receiving apparatus, served by a huge radio telescope antenna mounted atop the communications building. Bud looked on as Tom signaled. Tom Swift to Space Friends. Container for energy is now ready. Could it be placed outdoors?' Sturred by a worrisome afterthought, Tom added. Messages may be intercepted by enemy who wishes to steal energy. Suggest you use flight path to land exactly two miles west of first contact with us. By first contact, you mean when that black missile landed at enterprises?

Bud asked. Tom nodded. At that time, he reminded Bud, the Brungarians and the Brungarians and their conquerors had not yet learned of the Swift's communication from another planet. Hence they would have no idea of the sight referred to, which would hamper any plans to kidnap the brain energy. I get it, Bud said. Smart idea, pal!

Tensely, the two boys waited for a reply from outer space. End of Chapter 6. Next episode, Chapter 7. Wall of Water Tom Swift and the visitor from Planet X by Victor Appleton II. This is a Libervox recording.

All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibraVox.org. Chapter 7. Wall of Water. Minutes went by before the signal bell rang on the electronic brain. Both Tom and Bud dashed over to the machine as it began to spell out the incoming message on tape.

Energy will come to the spot you suggested. We can control flight course, but while the energy is on Earth, you will be in charge. We will have no control for twenty-one days. Then we will recall energy to bring us impressions and data of your world. The two boys stared at each other. excitedly as the transmission ended. Wow, Bud murmured. If Planet X is a peaceful place,

old think-box is shoring for a jolt here on Earth. Tom grinned fleetingly at the reference to Chow's nickname for the robot creature. Then he became serious, knowing that Bud's words were all too true. The space visitor might also take back impressions of the suffering and warlike threats that some Earth countries inflict on one another. Maybe one day, Tom reflected, it would be different. In the meantime, the young inventor realized he had an awesome responsibility. He must not only make the best use of the brain energy during its stay on Earth,

but also keep it from falling into the hands of treacherous Brungarian plotters. Tom's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of girls' voices. Sandy and Phil were standing in the doorway of the Space Communications Laboratory, "'Talk about your deep thinkers,' Sandy said teasingly. "'Goodness, we had no idea we'd be interrupting a session of the brain trust,' Phil added with a mischievous sparkle in her brown eyes. "'Maybe we should go away again, Sandy.' "'Hey, hold it, you two,' Bud exclaimed.

"'What do you think, Tom? Are these the visitors we've been expecting from outer space?' "'Well, I like that,' Sandy pouted. "'Do we look like a couple of little green people?' Tom chuckled and seized the opportunity to do a little teasing of his own. "'I think it's just your pointed heads that fooled us, sis.' Then, as the two girls broke down in laughter, he added, "'Why the unexpected visit?' Sandy and Phil explained that they had come to invite the boys to a picnic cruise on Lake Carlopa the next day.

And while we're here, since it's practically quitting time anyhow, Sandy went on, her blue eyes twinkling, we might even let you drive us someplace for dinner. Guess they've trapped us, bud, Tom said with a grin. Okay, it's a deal, but first we have something to show you. He took the girls to his laboratory to show them the robot creature. It's marvelous, Sandy exclaimed, and Phil agreed. Early the next morning, Bud called for Tom and Sandy in his tomato-red convertible. Then they stopped at the Newton's house to pick up Phil.

Each girl had packed a picnic basket for the day's sale. Hmm, looks as though we're going to be well-fed, Bud commented jokingly. What's on the menu, girls? Chicken and ham sandwiches, Sandy began. Pickles, olives, hard-boiled eggs, potato salad, Phil went on. Chocolate cake, milk, Sandy took up the list. Stop! You have as hungry as bears already, Tom warned.

Right, but agreed. Come on, let's get this cruise underway. The two couples drove to the Shopton Yacht Club dock on Lake Carlopa. There they boarded the sunspot, a beautiful 30-foot sailing catch, with an auxiliary engine which Mr. Swift and Mr. Newton had purchased for a frequently promised but not yet realized joint family vacation. The craft was equipped with twin gravitech stabilizers, mounted one on each side of the hull.

These gave it amazing smoothness even when plowing through rough seas. They were adaptations of a device Tom had invented for his space kite and cosmic sailor. Oh, what a gorgeous day for a sail, Phil said, a glow with enthusiasm. The sky was a cloudless blue. Under a hot summer sun, a brisk breeze was ruffling the lake into tiny whitecaps. The two couples cast off eagerly and were soon scudding out across the water under full sail. Tom and Bud wore swimming trunks under their slacks. Unfortunately, the girls had forgotten to bring their suits. When the sunspot reached the center of the lake, the boys hove too, stripping down to their trunks and dived overboard.

Meanwhile, the girl's sun bathed on the deck. Soon it was time for the picnic lunch, and all four ate with healthy young appetites. "'Geepers!' Sandy whispered to Phil with a giggle. "'After a feast like this, we'll have to go on a diet.' "'Don't say it,' Phil warned. Or Tom and Bud will use that as an excuse for never taking us out. it— She broke off with a gasp.

"'What's wrong?' Tom asked. Breathless with fright, Phil pointed off to Starboard. The others paled. An enormous wave was sweeping across the lake, straight toward the catch. "'Jumping jets!' Bud gulped. It's like a tidal wave. The boat was already rocking under the swells that preceded the oncoming huge breaker. Quick, Tom yelled. Grab life jackets while I start the engine. The four leaped into action.

Every instant the terrifying wave rushed closer. By now it was a 12-foot wall of water. Tom and the others had just put on the jackets, and the engine had barely gunned into life when disaster struck. The mammoth wave swept up the sunspot and healed it far over into the trough like a toy bark. The next instant, a cataract of water poured over the deck with stunning force. "'We're going under!' Phil screamed.

All four were swept overboard in the maelstrom. Under the smashing impact of the water, the catch's mainmast bent and groaned. A moment later, came a crack like a gunshot. The mast broke off, hung teetering by shreds, then toppled into the water. As it fell, the mast struck Sandy a grazing blow on the head. Sandy! Bud cried fearfully as he struggled in the swirling torrent. Calling on every ounce of strength, he swam with powerful strokes toward the girl.

Sandy was dazed and limp. Bud's husky arms circled her tightly. Then he began to fight his way toward shore. Tom and Phil, each struggling in the turbulent water, could only breathe a prayer of thanks as they watched the rescue. As the huge wave raced shoreward, the lakewater gradually became calmer in its wake. Tom was able to assist Phil, and Sandy by now had recovered her faculties. The sunspot had capsized, but could still be seen afloat some distance away.

Rather than swim to it and cling to the Hulk in the hope that a rescue boat would arrive, the four decided to continue on towards shore. They knew that the aftermath of the tidal wave would keep all shore facilities in an uproar for hours to come. As they neared the beach, the young people could see other overturned craft and heads bobbing in the water. A few daring persons finally began putting out in motorboats

and rowboats to pick up the survivors. A hundred yards from shore, one of the boats took Tom's group aboard. minutes later they were scrambling out onto a dock. "'Are you all right, Sandy?' Bud asked, his arm still around her. "'I—I think so,' she gasped weakly. "'But I must have swallowed half the lake.' "'Take it easy, sis,' Tom added, as Sandy swayed and shuddered from the shock of her recent ordeal.

Gently, he made Sandy lie down and pillowed her head on a folded tarpaulin provided by the sympathetic boatman. Phil, though one and white-faced, was in somewhat better shape. Tom, we must get these girls home as soon as possible, Bud declared. This, however, was not easily accomplished. The tidal wave had caused devastation along the entire shorefront. Many docks had been wrecked, boats splintered like matchsticks, and buildings along the water smashed. When Tom's group reached Bud's convertible, parked near the Yacht Club pier, they found the car completely waterlogged. Its electrical system gave not even a faint sputter or spark. Oh, fine, Bud groaned. The crowning touch.

Eventually, ambulances and private cars began to arrive to transport the injured. Tom, Bud, and the two girls were given a lift to the swift home, where Sandy and Phil were immediately put to bed by a worried Mrs. Swift. Downstairs, Tom switched on the TV set. A mobile camera crew from the local station was scanning the waterfront and interviewing witnesses of the disaster. To the two boys, the most interesting note came in a statement by the announcer that a very slight earth tremor had been felt in Shopton.

But no damage occurred except along the waterfront, the announcer explained. Tom gave a snort of anger, jumped up from his chair, and began pacing about the living room. "'Bud, I feel sure that that wall of water was caused by a minor earthquake,' the young inventor declared. "'What's more, I'll bet it was man-made.' Bud stared at his friend, appalled but feeling a hot surge of anger himself. "'If you're right, pal, it's the most fiendish sabotage I've ever. ever heard of. Think of all the lives that were endangered. Tom nodded grimly. I am thinking.

Both boys jerked around to look at the TV set again as a studio announcer's voice suddenly broke into the telecast. Flash, a severe quake has occurred at the headquarters of the American Archives Foundation, a hundred miles from Shopton. The foundation's buildings, containing many priceless government and scientific documents, were badly damaged, and an underground microfilm bolt was utterly destroyed. Apparently, this quake was part of the tremor felt here at Shopton. Within minutes, the Swift's home phone began jangling constantly. Some calls were from friends, others from strangers.

Many of the calls were routed through from the Enterprise's switchboard. One was from Dan Perkins of the Shopton Bulletin. "'What about it, Tom?' the editor demanded. I guess you know by now the public's aroused and in a state of near panic over all these quakes. What they all want to know is this. Are you, Tom Swift, going to find a way to stop all this destruction? Tom's jaw jutted out angrily. Yes, I am, he snapped, and you can quote me on that.

End of Chapter 7. Next episode, Chapter 8. A Suspect Talks. Swift and the visitor from Planet X by Victor Appleton the Second. This is a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit Libravox.org. Chapter 8. A Suspect Talks. The next morning, Tom was up at the crack of dawn, grimly determined to find an answer to the earthquake menace. He ate a hasty breakfast, then drove to his private laboratory at enterprises. He instructed the switchboard operator to shut off all incoming calls, then plunged into a study of the mystifying problem.

Earthquake activity, Tom New, tends to occur in circular patterns, like bands around the earth, for instance the Circumpacific Belt, and another belt extending eastward from the Mediterranean through Asia and on to the East Indies. Often these quake lines are visible as breaks or ruptures along the ground surface, called fault traces. No doubt, Tom thought, there were many more uncharted ones. Could an enemy scientist be making use of these earth faults to produce a man-made quake? Tom mulled over the disturbing idea.

How would I tackle the job myself if I had to undertake such a project for National Defense? fence, the young inventor mused. He felt a growing sense of excitement as an idea began to take shape in his mind. What about an artificial shockwave? An hour later, Bud Barkley walked into the laboratory and found Tom hunched over a jumbled pile of reference books on his workbench. What cook, Skipper? Bud asked. Tom looked up, his blue eyes blazing. Bud, I think I'm may have the answer. Tom got up from his stool and paced about the laboratory. Suppose the Brungarian rebel scientists have invented some sort of shockwave producer, a device for sending vibrations through the earth's crust or the mantle underneath.

Okay, suppose they have, Bud replied. Tom snatched up a piece of chalk and made some quick diagrams on a blackboard. Just this, pal. Let's say they set up two or three stations around the world for sending out such waves in a definite direction. Wherever the wave crosses an earth fault, or another wave, boom, an earthquake. Bud stared. No kidding. Is that how these rats triggered off all these quakes? It must be, Tom declared. It's the only possible explanation. Good night, Bud gasped weakly. a weapon. Just push a button every so often, and you go blow up another country bit by bit,

and no one could ever prove who was behind the attack. Tom nodded. Enough to make every American shiver if he only knew. What can we do about it? Bud asked. Tom resumed his worried pacing. I'll have to invent a shockwave deflector, Bud. It must be done in a hurry, too. Our enemy may start to destroy American cities as well as vital defense plants. Immediately, Tom put through an urgent call to an eminent scientist in Washington, who was a member of the National Research Council. Quickly, he outlined a plan. Tom, I'll talk to the President's special science advisor at once, the man promised.

I'll try to set up a meeting for ten o'clock tomorrow morning at Enterprises. Feeling relieved, Tom left the plant with Bud. The two boys drove off to attend church with Mrs. Swift and Sandy. Then, after the Sunday midday meal, Tom returned to his laboratory to work on ideas for a shockwave deflector. Bud and Sandy, meanwhile, drove to the Shopton Yacht Club to inspect the damage to the sunspot. Tom had arranged with a salvage crew to tow the disabled catch back to its slip. Monday morning, a sleek Air Force jet transport touched down at Swift Enterprises. A board were a select group of top government scientists.

Tom and Bud greeted them as they disembarked on the runway, then drove them to a conference room in the Enterprise's main building. I'd say your theory is right, Tom, about the quakes being produced by artificial shockwaves, said Burns Algren, a tall hawk-faced man with a shock of red hair. He was a member of the Defense Department's Advanced Research Projects Agency. But how do we stop them? I believe they can be damped out by opposing waves, Tom replied. This is assuming that I can design the right sort of equipment to do the job,

and also that we can set up a warning system to alert us of the enemy shockwaves in time. The young inventor sketched out the sort of shockwave deflector which he had in mind. The government experts were very much impressed. In the session that followed, the visiting scientist, contributed many tips and suggestions. Tom noted them down gratefully. After a thorough discussion, it was agreed that the Defense Department would set up detectors at 50 checkpoints around the country. Tom would choose the exact spots. Detection data from the checkpoints would be fed to an electronic computer. The computer would establish the pattern, if any, of incoming enemy

shockwaves. Dr. Greg Miles, a seismologist from the Bureau of Mines, agreed to take on the job of setting up the checkpoints. Thanks for your prompt cooperation, Tom said, smiling gratefully as the meeting broke up. We should thank you, Tom, for coming up with a plan to cope with this fiendish threat, Algrin replied. The others heartily agreed. Shortly after lunch, Tom was hard at work in his laboratory when the telephone rang. It was Chief Slater at Shopton Police Headquarters. You'd better get over here fast, Tom, Slater said. Samson Narco is ready to talk.

Tom needed no urging. Right, Chief! As he drove into Shopton, Tom wondered what the Brungarian agent would reveal. Was it possible that he might tip off the whole secret behind the destructive man-made earthquakes? Chief Slater was waiting in his office. Narco showed signs of cracking this morning, Slater told Tom. So I notified the Central Intelligence Agency. They're flying a man up here. In fact, he should be here by now.

Narco won't talk till he arrives. How come? Tom asked. Narco wants a bargain, Slater explained. If the government will promise to deport him at once without trial, he'll spill what he knows. Tom whistled. I sure wouldn't want to be in his shoes when he gets back to Brungaria. His bosses aren't stupid. They'll know he must have made a deal to get off Scott Free.

Just then a taxi from the airport pulled up outside police headquarters, and the CIA official was ushered into Slater's office. He proved to be John Thurston. Narco's waiting in his cell, Slater said, after an exchange, of handshakes. Let's hope he hasn't changed his mind. The Brungarian spy rose from his cot as the turnkey unlocked his cell door. You are from Washington, eh? Narko said to Thurston. Very well. I presume the police have told you my offer. Is it a bargain? Thurston was poker-faced.

You know the penalty for spying, he snapped. In your own country, it would mean death. "'Why should we let you off?' Narco's calmness evaporated. Beads of sweat burst out on his forehead. "'I have done no harm, and I know little or nothing of my superior's plans,' the spy said excitedly. "'Why should I lie to you with my life at stake? After all, I am only an insignificant agent.

But one important thing I do know, and this I will reveal, if you promise to deport me at once.' Thurston eyed him coldly. "'Very well,' the CIA man decided. "'You have my word.' Narco sat down on his cot, breathing heavily. Then he looked up at the three Americans. "'Your nation's capital, Washington, D.C., is going to be blown up,'

the Brungarian asserted. His words struck like a bombshell. Chief Slater and John Thurston stared at Narco in open mouth astonishment. Then Slater scowled. What a preposterous story! I suppose they're going to fly a plane over and drop an atom bomb, just like that, he snapped his fingers. Thurston was also inclined to doubt Narco's story. Any such bold move by the Brungarians, he declared, would amount to an act of war. It is the truth, Narco shouted. Do not forget, you have made a promise.

Tom Swift did not share Chief Slaters and Thurston's skepticism. Narco's words had chilled him with dismay. He called the other two aside and gave them a quick, whispered briefing on the theory he had discussed with the government scientists, asking them to keep it confidential. If the Brungarians indeed had a means of producing artificial shockwaves, Tom pointed out, they could easily destroy Washington without the slightest risk to themselves. Both Thurston and Chief Slater were alarmed.

Turning back to Narco, they grilled him for clues. But it seemed obvious that the Rungarian was telling all he knew, or, at any rate, all he intended to reveal. We're wasting our time, Thurston said finally, with a look of disgust. But I made a promise in the name of the United States government, and the promise will be kept. Turning to Chief Slater, the CIA man added, Turn him over to the FBI and have them take him to New York.

I'll arrange for a seat on the first plane for Brungaria. Tom drove back thoughtfully to enterprises. Bud was waiting in his laboratory with news. Your dad went from Washington to Fearing Island and has gone up to your space outpost, Bud reported. He has to do some experiments for the government project. he's working on. The outpost was a space station which Tom Swift Jr. had built 22,300 miles above the earth. It was a production factory for his famous solar batteries, and also an immensely valuable

setup for space research and exploration. I think I'll radio dad and let him know what's going on, Tom decided. He may have some good suggestions. He usually does. Tom warmed up his private transmitter receiver and beamed out a code call through the automatic scrambler. Seconds later, the loudspeaker crackled in response. But just as the outpost operator's voice came through, the radio set exploded in Tom's face. End of Chapter 8. Next episode, Chapter 9, The Cave Monster. Tom Swift and the visitor from Planet X by Victor Appleton II. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, visit LibraVox.org. Chapter 9, The Cave Monster. Skipper! Bud cried anxiously as Tom staggered back, his hands to his face. I'm all right. No harm done. assured his friend. Both boys were a bit shaken by the accident, nevertheless. Chow came rushing in as Bud was brushing the fragments of debris from Tom's clothes and examining the young inventor's face. "'Baran my flying flapjacks! What happened?' Chow asked. The chef had been bringing a tray of fruit juice to the laboratory and heard the explosion outside. The radio set just blew up in my face,

Tom explained. Fortunately, the equipment was transistorized mostly with printed circuits. Otherwise, he added, I might have been badly cut by slivers of glass from the exploding vacuum tubes. As it was, the young inventor had suffered only a few slight scratches and a bruise on the temple from a piece of the shattered housing. Bud swabbed Tom's injuries with antiseptic from the first aid cabinet while Chow poured out glasses of grape juice.

What caused it, Tom? Bud asked as they paused to sip the fruit juice. Good question, Tom replied. Frankly, I don't know. But he was wondering if the set might have been sabotaged. Tom was still eager to get in touch with his father and telephone the electronics department to bring another set to his laboratory.

Chow left just as the new set arrived. Tom hooked it up quickly, donned a set of goggles, and tuned to the set of the set of the same. space station frequency. Then he picked up the microphone and stepped well back from the set, waving Bud out of range at the same time. Tom Swift, calling outpost, come in, please. A moment later, came another explosion.

The new set had also blown up. Good night, Bud gasped in a stunned voice. Don't tell me that's just a coincidence. Tom shrugged. We can certainly read. rule out the possibility that anything was wrong with the radio itself, every set is checked before it leaves the electronics department. "'So where does that leave us?' Bud persisted.

Tom shook his head worriedly as he took off the goggles. Both times it seemed to happen just as the reply was coming through from the space station. There is no possibility that their signal was too strong, in other words, that the explosion was caused by overloading the receiving circuits. Are you implying that an enemy intercepted the message and sent some sort of ray that caused the set to explode? Bud demanded. Tom's face showed clearly that Bud had pinpointed the suspicion in the young inventor's mind. Could be! Bud was worried by this latest development. Skipper, suppose I hop up to the space wheel and talk it over with your dad.

He may be able to help us detect any enemy moves. Good idea, pal, Tom agreed. The sooner, the better, I'd say. The boys exchanged a quick handshake and affectionate shoulder-slaps. Then Bud hurried out to one of the Enterprise's hangars to ready a heli-jet for the flight to Fearing Island. This was the Swift's rocket base, just off the Atlantic coast. From there, Bud would board one of the regular cargo shuttle rockets,

operating between the space station and fearing. Tom, meanwhile, plunged back to work on his shockwave deflector. At ten the next morning, he called in Hank Sterling and showed him a set of completed drawings. Hank, you did a fast job on the container for the brain, Tom began apologetically. But you'll really have to burn out a bearing on this one. Hank grinned.

I'm geared to action. Say, what do we go? call it anyhow, he asked. Tom grinned. Chow told me last night this gadget looked like a fire plug under a rose trilless, and I ought to call it fireplug rose, but I've given it a more dignified name, the Quakalizer, which stands for an underground quake wave deflector. Briefly, Tom explained the various parts of his latest invention, which consisted of a hydrant-sized cylinder to be inserted into the ground, with magnetic coils near the top. A smaller hydraulic cylinder, mounted above this,

was wired to a metal framework and radio transmitter. This setup will detect any incoming enemy shockwaves, Tom said. We'll need 50 of them, so turn the job over to Swift Construction, and have Uncle Ned put on extra shifts. The Swift Construction Company, managed by Ned Newton, was the commercial division which mass-produced Tom Juniors and Tom's seniors' inventions. Information from the detector transmitters, Tom went on, would be fed into an electronic computer at the Bureau of Mines in Washington.

The Quagalizer itself was housed in a massive, cube-shaped casting, with two large spheres mounted on top. From each of its four sides jutted a hydraulic piston. How does it work, Tom? Hank asked. Dual control spheres on top, Tom explained, will receive by radio signal the pulse frequency computed in Washington. He added that inside each sphere was a pulse maker. This would produce changes in the pressure of the hydraulic fluid by affecting the kinetic energy of the fluid's atoms. The pressure changes would then be enormously magnified in the four hydraulic output drivers. When the unit was embedded in rock underground, the huge pistons would send out counter-shock waves

through the earth's crust to neutralize the enemy waves. Wow! Hank Sterling was breathless at the sheer scope of the young scientist's newest invention. I'll get hot on the job right away. After 48 hours of round-the-clock work, the equipment was ready. Tom conferred by telephone with both Dr. Miles, in the Bureau of Mines, and burnt Uldgren in the Pentagon. He had already chosen the spots for the detector-transmitter checkpoints. Tom told the men that he believed the best spot for the Quakalizer itself

was on a certain government reservation in Colorado. A deep underground cave there would provide a perfect sight. We'll be close enough to the San Andreas fall to prevent a really huge-scale disaster, Tom explained, and the rocky mountain structure will give us a good bedrock medium for shooting out waves anywhere across the continent. Dr. Miles and Algren agreed enthusiastically. Tom and the two scientists spoke over a three-way telephone hookup, with automatic scramblers to counter the danger of enemy monitors, laying plans to install the equipment.

Algrin agreed to fly a technical crew out to the spot in Colorado, which Tom had named. The next day, Tom, Hank, and several top enterprises engineers, including Art Will Tessa, took off in the Sky Queen. This was Tom's huge atomic-powered flying lab. The massive plane flew at supersonic speeds and was equipped with jetlifters for vertical takeoff or hovering. A whirling duck helipplane, loaded with communications equipment, accompanied the Sky Queen. In little more than an hour, the two craft touched down in a rugged Colorado Canyon. The government technical crew was already on hand. Glad to know you, Tom said, shaking hands with the engineer in charge.

He introduced his own men and added, Better roll up your sleeves, this job is going to take plenty of oomph. The parts of the Quakalizer were unloaded from the Sky Queen onto dollies. Then the group, armed with bullseye lanterns, flashlights, and walkie-talkies, hauled the parts by tractor into the cave. Okay, now let's pick out the spot for embedding the unit, Tom said. The men had no sooner begun to look around the huge underground chamber, when a fearsome growl rumbled through the cave. Everyone whirled about,

and the next instant froze in horror. A huge bear reared up in the mouth of the cave. The monster snarled and blinked in the cave. The monster snarled and blinked its yellow eyes in the glare of lights. We're trapped, Hank cried out. The enormous Bruin was now waving his huge head from side to side, as if daring the intruders to step up and fight. Several of the government men had brought rifles and shotguns,

but in spite of their peril, no one wanted to shoot the handsome old fellow. I'll send out an SOS, Tom said. If help arise before the bare attacks, we won't use guns. He radioed the local Forest Ranger post. After a nerve-wracking weight, with the group expecting a charge from the beast at any minute, two rangers appeared and captured the bear with a net. One man of the government work crew knocked together a stout wooden cage. The beast, outraged, was loaded aboard the helipplane to be released in an area remote from the cave. Now the grueling job of installing the Quakalizer began.

First the cave was cleared of debris, bats, and other small living creatures, then a sight was marked out on the cave floor. Tom had brought along a midget model of his great atomic Earth blaster, which he had invented to drill for iron at the South Pole. With the blaster, Tom quickly drilled a pit of exact size into the bedrock. Then the Quakalizer was assembled and looked at the south pole. lowered into place by a portable crane. A power plant and radio antenna were set up,

and the installation was finally completed. "'I must return to Shopton now,' Tom said. "'Art here will stick around and help you operate the setup,' he told the government engineers, after radio contact had been made with Washington. If anything goes wrong, just flash word to enterprises.' The Sky Queen and the Hilaplane sped back across the continent. As Tom landed at Enterprises, he was greeted by Bud, who came speeding out on the airfield by Jeep.

Just got back from the Space Wheel about an hour ago, Bud said. Your dad's really worried about those exploding radio sets, Tom. He has no clues, but he's sure the scientists working for the Brungarian Rebel set up are responsible. He thinks they may try to ruin all of Enterprises' communication system by remote control. Tom's face was grave as he listened. The two boys discussed the problem as they drove to the Swift's office in the main building. Boy, I sure wish I could think of some way to cope with it, Tom said wearily, flopping down in his desk chair. Your dad said to give it the old college try, Bud reported, and he also said he'd be back in two days to help you on the problem. Tom glanced at the calendar.

Which reminds me, he said. On Monday, the brain energy will be due from space. The thought sent a thrill of excitement tinged with worry through the young inventor's mind. Would the container he had devised prove suitable? Hey, a call on the video phone! Bud pointed to the red light flashing on the control board. He jumped up and switched on the set. Blake, the Washington announcer, appeared on the screen. Bad news, Skipper, he said ominously. An earthquake tremor was just felt here in Washington.

It centered in a shipyard on the Potomac and caused great damage. End of Chapter 9. Next episode, Chapter 10. Energy from Planet X. Tom Swift and the visitor from Planet X. Appleton the second. This is a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, visit LibraVox.org. Chapter 10. Energy from the planet X. Tom and Bud listened in dismay, as Blake reported all the details he had been able to gather. Was my Quakalizer a flop, Bud? Tom muttered, his shoulders drooping as the announcer signed off. It must have been... Don't be silly. Snap out of it!

Bud gave his pal a cheerful poke in the ribs, hoping to buck him up. You heard what Blake said. Washington itself was hardly touched. Without your setup, think of all the people that might have been killed or injured. And all the government buildings that might have been wrecked, maybe even the White House. I'd say your shockwave deflector must have been at least 90% effective. Tom brightened somewhat on hearing Bud's words.

He picked up the phone and placed a call to Dr. Miles at the Bureau of Mines. It was almost half an hour before the operator was able to get a line through. But Tom felt the suspense had been worthwhile when Dr. Miles exclaimed, "'Tom, it was a miracle you completed the Quakalizer installation in time. In all probability, it saved us from a major national disaster, perhaps worse than Pearl Harbor. Tom felt a glow of pride and relief. Thanks, sir, but what about the shipyard destruction?

He added, still not entirely convinced. That was a bad break, Tom, Dr. Miles admitted. Our detectors showed that the shock waves had been almost damped out when a sudden power failure occurred. It turned out that an overload had shorted the Quakalizer's power plant. The crew had it fixed within moment. moments, but by that time the damage was done. Tom winced as he heard of the unfortunate accident, but was thankful the results had been no worse. Miles went on to say that he had just been conferring

with Algren at the Pentagon. The Defense Department now feared that attempts might be made against other large cities and was therefore eager to have Tom deliver several quake deflectors as soon as possible. These would be installed at strategic points around the country. The government heads were so impressed with your invention, Tom, Dr. Miles added, that they'll probably be walking the floor anxiously until the others arrive. Tom chuckled, then became serious. Tell them we'll go to work right away, he informed the seismologist. I'll have the new Quake Elizers ready as soon as possible.

But you'd better warn your associates it's bound to take a few days. As soon as the conversation was completed, Tom dialed Ned Newton. at the Swift Construction Company. Although he was actually not a relative of the Swift's, both Tom and Sandy had from childhood called him Uncle Ned. "'What's up, Tom?' he asked. Tom told him of the latest request from Washington and asked that another three-shift work schedule be set up

to turn out the additional quakealizers. Hank and I will bring the blueprints over right away, if you don't mind being late to dinner,' Tom said. Ned Newton agreed willingly, only too happy to help cope with the quake menace. By 8 o'clock that evening, work on the project was proceeding at great speed. The Swift Construction Company continued humming with activity around the clock. The weekend was almost over by the time Mr. Swift arrived back from the space station. Tom flew to Fearing Island to meet him.

On the short hop back to enterprises, they discussed the radio problem. I think the solution's been staring us in the face, Dad, but we've been too worried to think of it, Tom said. Remember Li Ching's jamming wave generator? He was referring to a device used recently by an oriental foe of Tom and his father. Mr. Swift's eyes lighted up with a quick flash of understanding. Dad, you wrote a report on the generator for the government, with a memo on possible ways to combat it, Tom went on.

Maybe the same measures would work. work in this case? The Swifts had discovered that their enemy had been intercepting Tom's messages, thereby learning the frequency to which the Swift's receiver was tuned. They then radiated a signal at this frequency, modulated at the frequency to which the local oscillator was set. This had caused a build-up of energy in the IF Transformers, resulting in their explosion. Now, Mr. Swift said, You're right, son. We'll insert a blocking filter in the RF stage. That should do the trick. Their minds relieved of this problem, the Swifts were eagerly looking forward to the arrival of the brain energy from space the next day. The scheduled time, if pinpointed at exactly two weeks from the moment when the first message was received,

would be half an hour past noon. The spot, two miles from enterprises, was on a lonely hillside. It was shaded by trees, higher up the slope, with bushes and other wild-growing greenery softening its contours. Over the weekend, Tom had had carpenters from Enterprises put up a small cabin at the foot. As 1230 approached, Tom, Bud, Mr. Swift, Hank Sterling, Arv Hanson, and several other Swift technician stood by the scene with the star-headed container. Chow had also begged to be on hand. I just got to see old think box come to life, he said.

Eyes darted back and forth from wristwatches to sky as the zero moment ticked closer. Bud even began muttering a countdown. X minus three, X minus two, X minus one, this is it. All eyes flashed skyward. But nothing happened. Not a speck showed in the blue cloudless sky. The watchers glanced at one another uncertainly. More minutes went by.

Soon it was quarter to one, then one o'clock. No mistake about the time was there, Arv asked. Mr. Swift shook his head. Not if the code was translated correctly, he frowned. It's true they spoke merely in terms of days, but their time references are usually very precise. The waiting group fidgeted and prowled back and forth to ease their tension. Feelings of suspense began changing into gloom after two more hours passed with no sign from the sky.

Disappointed but unable to wait any longer, the technical men went back to the plant, one by one. Hank Sterling, too, and Arv Hanson finally had to leave. "'Sorry, Skipper,' Hank muttered. "'Ring us right away if it shows up.' "'Sure, Hank.' As six o'clock went by, Chow tried to pep up his companion's drooping spirits with a simple but tasty supper,

warmed up on an electric hot plate in the cabin. "'What do you think, Skipper? Are we out of luck?' Bud asked as they ate. "'Our space friends haven't let us down yet,' Tom replied. "'I'm sure they won't this time.' Though he didn't say so aloud, Tom was worried that their Brungarian enemies might have managed to divert and capture the energy. Mr. Swift seemed to read Tom's thoughts. Let's hope no hitch has occurred, he said quietly.

The sun went down, twilight slowly deepened. The trees on the hillside faded from view in the gathering darkness. There it is! Bud yelled suddenly. Electrified, the force sprang up in an instant. A speck of light was sailing across the sky. But their faces fell as it drew closer. Only an airplane, Bud grumbled. At ten o'clock Mr. Swift gave a weary yawn.

"'The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,' he confessed. I got only two hours of sleep on the space-wheel, and apparently last night wasn't enough to catch up. Sorry, fellows. Why don't you go home, Dad? Hit the hay, Tom said sympathetically. Promising to take a turn on watch if the vigil continued through the next day, Mr. Swift drove off in his car.

Time dragged by slowly as the three remaining watchers chatted and looked hopefully at the stars. Eventually, Chow propped himself against a tree and dropped off to sleep to the accompaniment of low droning snores. Bud, too, began to drowse. It was long past midnight when Tom suddenly caught a sight of a moving light in the sky. He stiffened and held his breath. Another false alarm?

But no, a glowing, faintly bluish mass with a comet-tail of luminous orange-red was slowly proceeding through the pattern of stars. Hey, fellows, wake up! Tom shouted. He sprang to his feet and, latched a single point on the starhead. Within seconds, Bud and Chow were both wide awake, as excited as Tom. The blue nebulous mass moved closer and closer. The three watchers were speechless with awe. As the ball of energy descended toward them, it lit up the whole scene. The hillside looked almost as if it were on fire. The earth vibrated, and the air had the sharp

smell of ozone. This was followed by a frightening clatter and rumble. The force of the energy was sweeping down rocks, gravel, and shrubbery in a hillside avalanche. Look out! Chow shrieked. We'll be pulverized in this rock stampede. He streaked for cover as a huge boulder came plunging straight toward him. Hold fast, bud, Tom cried. Nothing's headed our way. Stealing his nerves, he grabbed the waiting container and held on grimly. An instant later, the glowing mass sharpened and narrowed itself into a snake-like bolt of fire that arc straight into the head of Tom's invention. Tom gave a yell of triumph and clamped the star point shut, then pushed a button to activate the self-sealing process. Chow peered out cautiously

from behind a clump of rock. The next second he led out a Texas swoop, bounded from cover like an oversized gnome, and sent his ten-gallon hats sailing high into the air. Yippee! Bud cheered too. The visitor from Planet X has arrived. In their excitement and relief,

the three hugged one another and jumped for joy. Should we wake up your dad and tell him the good news, or keep it a surprise till morning, but asked Tom. I guess we better. Tom broke off in a gasp as the robot-like container suddenly began to whirl. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, spinning crazily like a huge runaway top. It darted up, down and about the hillside. Tom and his two companions stared in helpless amazement. Great horn toads, what's it up to?

Chow exclaimed. "'Seems like the energy's trying to get out,' but guessed. Something must be bothering it.' Tom shook his head incredulously. "'No reason for that. The container was absolutely empty.' Chow suddenly gave a groan and slapped his forehead in dismay.

"'Brand my big dipper,' the cook said. "'Maybe old think-box has gone loco, and it could be my fault.' End of Chapter 10. Next episode, Chapter 11, An Electrical Christening. Chow? Tom asked, turning to the old Westerner in amazement. Chow related how he had dropped the bubblegum inside the robot's head. Did I ruin the critter? he asked fearfully. Tom was thoughtful for a moment, frowning as they watched old think-box continue its gyrations.

The figure seemed to be calming down somewhat, although Tom could not be sure of this. Suddenly his face brightened. A new thought had just struck. the young inventor. To Chow's amazement, Tom slapped the cook happily on the back. "'I think you've done me a favor, Chow,' he exclaimed. "'I have!' the old Texan stared at his young boss, as if not sure whether or not to believe him. "'How come?' "'You saw how old think-box reacted to the gum,' Tom explained. "'That shows the energy really is like a brain. It's responsive and sensitive to

conditions of its environment, especially when coming up against something new and unexpected. You mean they don't have bubblegum on Planet X? Chow asked with a grin. Tom smiled as Bud said, this means we should be able to communicate with it. And the brain will probably be able to communicate back to us, Tom went on excitedly. We may even be able to learn about Planet X. As he spoke, old think-box's whirling became slower and slower. Finally, it came to rest close to the three humans. What do you suppose happen to the gum? Bud asked. Did he chew it all up?

It's probably unchanged, Tom replied. Our visitor is used to it now. Chow was still wide-eyed with awe. He stared at the strange creature as if expecting it to snap at him in revenge for the gum. "'Don't worry, old-timer. Think box won't bite,' Bud teased. "'With that gumsprie, he's just been initiated into our American tribal customs.' The pilot grinned. "'Hey, we haven't given him a proper name.'

"'You're right,' Tom looked at his pal and chuckled. "'Got any ideas?' "'Hem, let me see,' Bud scowled and paced about with his hands clasped behind his back. Firetop? John Q. Pyro? But it ain't on fire now, Chow pointed out. Maybe not, but he sure blazed a trail getting here, Bud argued. Tom and Chow countered with several ideas of their own, but nothing seemed suitable until Bud suddenly stopped short and snapped his fingers.

I have it. He's a visitor from Planet X, so let's call him X-man. Bud spelled it out. Perfect! Tom was delighted, and Chow agreed that it seemed a right-good moniker. The Texan insisted seriously that if the creature were going to be named, he should also have a proper christening. Why not, Tom agreed, as both boys broke into laughter. Bud also liked the idea. Chow had a troublesome afterthought.

He shoved back his sombrero, squinted frowningly at the brain container, and scratched his bald head. For boat christenings and statues and whatnot, you break bottles on them, or cut ribbons or pull a sheet off them, the cook said. But how in tarnation do you christen a buckaroo from space? Nothing to it, Chow, Tom assured him.

We'll do the job up nice and fancy with the display of electricity. But first, let's get X-Man over to the lab. The three loaded the energy container into the first, pickup truck which had brought it to the hillside spot. Then Tom drove back to Enterprises, and they took X-Man into his private laboratory. Here Tom attached an electrode to each side of the star head. One electrode was safely grounded, the other connected to a Tesla coil. Then, with all lights turned off in the laboratory, Tom threw a switch. Instantly, a dazzling arc of electricity sputtered through the darkness across the creature's head. The eerie display lit up the

room with such impressive effect that both Bud and Chow felt their spines tingle. I, Chris and you, X-Man, Tom intoned. For several moments, he allowed the fiery arc to continue playing about the starhead. Then he opened the power switch and turned the room lights back on. Wow, quite a ceremony, Bud murmured. "'After a sund-off like that, I'll be expecting the critter to do great things here on this little old planet Earth,' Chow declared fervently. "'You could be right,' Tom said. Worn out by the long wait for their visitor from Planet X and the excitement following his arrival,

Chow finally went off to his own quarters at Enterprises for a well-earned sleep. "'Guess you and I had better get some shut-eye, too, pal,' Tom told Bud. and I think I won't tell Dad until morning. The two boys decided to bunk on Cots in the small apartment adjoining Tom's laboratory. X-Man, meanwhile, was left locked in the laboratory with a tiny nightlight showing on him. Just a little ray of energy to keep him company, Tom explained with a chuckle. Minutes later, the two boys were sound asleep. For a while, all was silent.

Then the apartment's telephone rang, shattering the stillness. Tom struggled out of the depths of sleep, got up, and groped his way over to the wall phone. Tom Swift, Jr. speaking, a familiar voice said, did it come? Oh, hi, Dad, Tom replied, yawning. Yes, X-Man arrived in fine shape. We've put him to bed. Tell you all about it tomorrow morning. Okay, Tom. As Tom hung up, Bud roused and switched on a lamp. He had awakened in time to catch only part of Tom's words.

"'Your father?' he inquired. Tom nodded sleepily and was about to go back to bed. But Bud, still fascinated by the space visitor, decided to have a peek at X-Man. He got up and opened the door to the laboratory. A yell from him brought Tom rushing to his side. "'Hey! It's gone!' The spot by the nightlight where they had left X-Man was now deserted. Tom found a wall switch and pressed it.

As light from the overhead fluorescent tubes flooded the room, the boys gave laughing cries of relief. Old Think Box had merely moved himself to another corner of the room. Guess he didn't like the little chum we left on for him, Bud said with a chuckle. Let's leave him where he is, Tom agreed. The two boys went back to the same. the adjoining apartment and were soon asleep again. Several hours later, they were rudely awakened by a loud crash of glass and a heavy thud. Something's happened to X-Man, Tom cried.

With bud at his heels, the young inventor dashed into the laboratory. End of Chapter 11. Next episode, Chapter 12, X-Man takes orders. Dr. Appleton II. This is a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit Libravox.org. Chapter 12. X-Man takes orders. A strange sight greeted Tom's and Bud's eyes.

In the first rays of sunlight, the space robot was moving back and forth about the laboratory in wild zigzag darts and lunges. As he rolled toward a bench or other object, the brain energy seemed to send out invisible waves that knocked things over. Already the floor was strewn with toppled lab stools, books, and broken test tubes. The heavy thud had apparently been caused by a falling file cabinet. Stop him, Bud yelled. X-Man was heading straight for a plate-glass window.

Reaching from floor to ceiling, the glass formed one entire wall of the laboratory. "'Oh, no!' Tom tensed, realizing that it was hopeless to try to stop X-Man in time. But an instant later, the rolling robot stopped of its own accord, as if registering the fact that its energy waves were now striking of fragile surface. The thick pane of glass vibrated in its frame. "'Good grief!' Tom wiped his brow. "'Let's corral that thing before he wrecks the whole lab!' X-Man was already rolling off on a new tack. The two boys managed to grab him before more harm was done.

The brain energy in its container seemed to calm under their touch. What in the name of space science triggered it off? Bud wondered out loud. Time. It must have reacted to the passage of time, Tom conjectured. I suppose it just decided to explore this place. He added a bit nervously, "'The sooner we can communicate with this energy, the better.' "'But how?'

But asked. Tom's brow furrowed. "'Say, I wonder if X-Man might understand a direct order.' Tom backed a few paces away from the space robot, then said in a loud, clear voice, "'Come here!' X-Man remained fixed to his spot. "'Move right.' No response.

Move left. Still no response. Guess you're not getting through, Skipper, Bud commented with a grin. No, Tom agreed. I can't predict what kind of energy this brain will respond to. Being only energy, it must respond to other energy, and sound is our form of energy. The problem is the same as with radio waves, which are also energy. We must figure out how we can vary, the energy, so it can transmit information to X-Man.

What do we try, Bud asked, or is it hopeless? I'll try communicating with it via the electronic brain, which I have adapted to fit this problem. The boys cleaned up the wreckage caused by X-Man in his Dawn venturings. Then Tom went by Jeep to the computer laboratory, made connections to his electronic brain, and wired it for remote control. Then he returned to the private laboratory. There, Bud watched as he hooked up the leads from the computer to a transmitting-receiving decoder with a short-range antenna.

Speak, oh, Master, Bud said, imitating a squeaky robot voice. Sound off, loud and clear. Tom grinned and tapped out a command on the keyboard. Move backward. X-Man rolled backward. Bud gave a whoop of delight. Tom signaled,

Move forward. Obediently, X-Man rolled toward him. Stop. X-Man stopped. Hey, how about that? Bud exclaimed happily. It really savvies those electric brain impulses. And minds them,

which is equally important, Tom added. A moment later, the brain energy seemed to become impatient. It spurted off in its wheeled container toward a laboratory workbench. Crash! A rack of test tubes went sailing to the floor with an explosion of tinkling glass. Stop! Tom signaled frantically. Again, X-Man obeyed the order. It's like a mischievous kid, Bud said. Almost as if in defiance X-Man scooted off in another direction.

Then it stopped abruptly and swiveled around, one of its antenna arms knocking a Bunsen burner to the floor as it did so. "'Come here,' Tom signaled. As the culprit approached, he added sternly, "'Stop where you are, and stay there until you receive further orders.' This time X-man stood patiently. awaiting the next signal. Bud got a brush and dustpan,

and the boys cleaned up the broken test tubes and replaced the burner on its shelf. Then Tom began feeding more complicated instructions to X-Man through the electronic brain. He guided him through a number of dance-like movements and other drills, and got him to send out a wave of heat which the boys could instantly feel.

Tom was even able to make the robot aim its wave energy so as to short-circuit a switch on an electrical control panel. Tom was both pleased and excited. Bud, he exclaimed, the brain reacts as quickly as that of a highly intelligent being. Just imagine, without any sort of decoding equipment, it can pick up and understand the radio signals I beam out to it. What we need now, Tom went on,

is a simple language to get our ideas across to X-Cube, man without having to use the electronic brain all the time. That means I must find a way to give X-Man's senses as we humans have, smell, touch, sight, hearing, taste. Then it could receive the same reactions we do and talk directly to us. Sounds like quite an order, Bud said Riley. Speaking of which, how about us phoning Chow in order for breakfast? He did so, and a short time later Chow wheeled a food cart into the laboratory. As he dished out man-sized helpings of ham and eggs, the cook kept a wary eye on X-Man. Tom was putting the robot through a few more lively maneuvers. A good meal had calmed down, old think-box, Chow observed grumpily. But what do you feed that there kind of

contraption? Well, not gum, that's for sure, Bud teased. After tasting, his first forkful of food, he gasped, "'And none of this ham!' Jumping up from his lab-stool, Bud began whirling, dancing around, and flapping his arms as if he were burning up. "'Help! Help!' he yelled. "'Cowse poisoned me! Just like he did X-Man!'

Chow's leathery old face paled under its desert tan. "'Great snakes, Tom!' the Texan gulped. "'Have I really poisoned him? "'Maybe we should call Doc Simpson.' Doc was the medic in charge of the Enterprise's infirmary. Tom was unable to keep a straight face. "'Better call someone with a stray jacket, or a butterfly net,' he said, quaking with laughter.

"'I'm afraid he's just pulling your leg, Chow.' Chow's jaw clamped shut like a bear trap, and he glared at the pirouetting young flyer. Bud, collapsing on his stool, doubled over with mirth. Sorry, old-timer, he gasped. I just couldn't resist. Okay, buddy-boy, Chow said darkly.

And maybe I won't be able to resist getting even one of these days. The cook stumped out of the laboratory in his high-heeled cowboy boots, a picture of outraged dignity. Better watch out, pal, Tom warned with a grin. just remember, it's never smart to bite the hand that feeds you. I guess you're right, but agreed, wiping away the tears of laughter. I'll remember, just as long as Chow promises not to service any more armadillo soup or rattlesnake salad. Chow's fondness for experimenting with weird dishes was a standing joke around enterprises.

The boys ate their meal hungrily. As they were finishing, Tom Glan, at the big clock on the wall. It was now well past eight o'clock. Wonder why Dad hasn't come to the lab, he remarked. I'd better call and find out if he's all right. Tom picked up the telephone and asked the operator for the direct line to the Swift's home. His father answered. Morning, Dad, Tom greeted him. I thought after your call last night you'd be over bright and early to see our visitor. He's already... What are you talking about,

son, Mr. Swift broke in. I didn't phone you last night. End of Chapter 12. Next episode, Chapter 13. Disaster Strikes. I'm Swift, and the visitor from Planet X. By Victor Appleton II. This is a Libervox recording.

All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit Libravox.org. Chapter 13. Disaster Strikes Tom was thunderstruck. You didn't phone me? But, Dad, I got the call. I definitely heard your voice. That's impossible, Mr. Swift insisted. Believe me, son, I slept soundly from the time I turned in until a little while ago. There was a moment of stunned silence, as both Swifts realized that the telephone

phone call had been faked. Then Tom exclaimed, Dad, this is serious. Deadly serious, I agree, his father replied. Are you calling from your lab? Yes. Stay there. I'll be right over, the elder scientist said. When Mr. Swift arrived, Tom related his conversation with the mysterious caller. His father listened with worried eyes and a puzzled frown. It's bad enough. that an enemy was able to get the information, Mr. Swift remarked. But, potentially at least, it's even more dangerous that he was able to imitate my voice so well. If he could fool you, Tom, he could fool anyone.

Are you thinking the same thing I am, Dad? That it may have been some insider here at Enterprises. When Tom nodded, his father gravely agreed. Yes, son, it does look that way. to imitate my voice convincingly, it would almost certainly have to be someone who's had close contact with us, either at the plant or here in Shopton. The thought of a traitor at the experimental station was repugnant to the Swifts and to Bud as well. Not only were all employees carefully screened, but there was a close, almost family relationship among those who took part in the exciting scientific ventures at Swift Enterprises.

Tom called security and asked Harlan Ames to come over to the laboratory at once. The security chief arrived within moments. Quickly, Tom filled him in on the details of the puzzling telephone call. Think back, Skipper, Ames urged. Was there anything at all you can remember about the voice that might give us a tip-off? I mean, was it deep? Or maybe a bit higher pitch than you expected? Or anything about the way the caller pronounced his words?

Tom shook his head. Nothing. That's the trouble. He spoke only a couple of sentences, but so far as I knew, it was my father calling. Hmm, Ames frowned. What about background noises? Tom thought hard.

None. If I had detected any special sounds during the call, I'm sure they would have stuck in my mind. Ames tried another tack. He asked how many people had known about the expected arrival of the brain energy from space. This was harder to answer, but as Tom and his father enumerated the persons, it did help to narrow the circle of suspects. Besides the Swifts, Chow, Phil, Ames, and George Dilling,

there were three groups who had had access to the information. One was the radio operators at the Space Communications Laboratory. Another consisted of Arv Hanson and Hank Sterling and the workmen who had taken part in building the energy container. The last group, which also included Hank and Arv, were the technicians who had actually gone to the hillside to await the visitor from Planet X. Tom scowled.

None of those people would pull such a trick, Harlan. Any more than the ones like you and Arr and Hank, who were above suspicion. Most of them could have easily obtained the news without going through such a rigmarole. Mr. Swift nodded. Tom's right. Unless, of course, they had some urgent reason for wanting to find out as soon as possible. Which makes me think it may have been an outsider after all, Tom argued.

Remember, the Brungarians may have intercepted the code messages to or from our space friends. After a moment's silence, he added gloomily, "'Whoever the caller was, he knew the energy was arriving, and now he knows it's here.' Bud interjected, "'Well, if he was a Brungarian agent, and he's hoping to steal the brain energy, one thing sure,

no earthquake will demolish this place as long as the energy is here at enterprises.' "'A comforting thought, Bud,' Mr. Swift commented with a ride. smile. Again, Tom frowned. At any rate, Harland, see if you can get a line on that imposter. Ames departed to begin a thorough check of all personnel at the plant, who might have been implicated. Bud went on an errand, as Tom began showing his father the accomplishments of the space robot. We've christened him, X-Man, Tom said. By means of the electronic brain, he made the visitor do a number of maneuvers in response to orders.

Wonderful, Mr. Swift exclaimed, greatly impressed. Let's see if he can use his caterpillar treads as well as he does the wheels. Tom brought a small flight of portable aluminum stairs, which he used for reaching up on high shelves or tinkering with outsized machines. Tom was uncertain at first how to code the command, having no symbol for steps or stairs. Finally, he moved out of the command. X-Man to the bottom of the steps and signaled simply, Go up.

X-Man paused for a moment, then attempted the ascent. His caterpillar tracks clawed their way up the first step. Then, gingerly, he assayed the next. The robot body tilted, but its gyro kept it from toppling over. Bravo! Mr. Swift applauded encouragingly. But the next instant, X-Man gave up. He slid back to the floor again with a heavy bump. Then he began whirling and darting about madly.

"'Good night! X-Man's gone berserk!' Tom cried. Now waffs of smoke could be seen issuing from the robot's wheels. He was banging wildly about the laboratory, leaving a trail of havoc. Bud, who had returned, opened the door to come in. Instantly X-man lunged toward him, antennas sparking. fiercely and wheeled smoking. Bud slammed the door hastily. The Swifts, too, found it wiser to take cover. They crouched behind a lab workbench until the frenzy was over. Presently, X-Man subsided and rolled to a complete standstill. "'Good, grief!' Tom stood up cautiously and eyed the creature.

It made no further move. Bud poked his head through the doorway for a wary look. then re-entered the laboratory. What made him blow his top? Bud asked. Then Tom heard a quiet chuckle from his father. Actually, boys, the elder scientist said, I think we should be encouraged. Encouraged?

Tom stared at his father. Mr. Swift nodded. Yes, the whole thing was rather a noteworthy reaction. I believe X-Man was displayed. a fear complex about navigating up those stairs. Tom gasped, then broke out laughing. Dad, you're right. I'll bet when its body tilted over, the brain wasn't sure whether the gyro would keep it from being wrecked.

It just shows old think-box as getting more human all the time. But venture to pat X-Man on its back. Relax, kid, he said with a chuckle. You're among friends, we wouldn't dream of letting you get hurt. You're too valuable." Mr. Swift stroked his jaw thoughtfully. "'Valuable, yes, if we can only get it to communicate. Tom, I believe the first project we should work on is a way to make X-Man talk.' After the debris had been cleaned up, the two scientists pulled up stools to the workbench and began to discuss the problem. Bud, seeing them absorbed, and

realizing the discussion would soon be far beyond his depth, snapped a grinning salute at X-Man, and quietly left the laboratory. "'Dad, the toughest part won't be the speech mechanism itself,' Tom pointed out. "'There are several ways we could handle that, by modulating a column of air, for instance, or by some sort of speaker diaphragm. The real stumper will be how to teach him our spoken language.' Mr. Swift nodded. I'm afraid you're right. If the inhabitants of Planet X communicate telepathically,

or by some sort of wave transfer, they may have long since forgotten any concept of a spoken language. The Swift spatted several ideas back and forth. Then Tom snapped his fingers. Wait, Dad, we have the answer. The electronic brain! Mr. Swift's eyes lighted up. Of course. The machine already translates the space code into written English. All we need to do is add a device to convert the machine's impulses into sound. In two hours, the Swifts had put together a mechanism designed to work through a tape recorder. This was hooked up to the electronic brain. After recording, for several moments, Tom reversed the tape and switched on the playback.

A squeaky jumble of noises could be heard. But one word seemed to come through fairly distinctly. Universe. It's talking, Tom cried out. Trying to, but not succeeding very well, Mr. Swift said. Nevertheless, the two scientists were jubilant at this first breakthrough. Eagerly they began making adjustments, both on the electronic brain hookup and the converter mechanism. Tom was just about to switch on the tape recorder again,

when the telephone rang. The young inventor was annoyed at being interrupted at such a crucial moment, but picked up the phone. Tom Swift, Jr. speaking. You have an urgent call from Washington, the operator informed him. Just a moment, please. Burnt-Ulgren was calling from the Pentagon. The defense expert's voice was strained. Tom, there's just been another attempt to cause an earthquake here in Washington. Tom, Tom gasped. What happened? It failed, thanks to you,

but intelligence believes an attempt will be made on New York City very soon. We need your help to stop it. How near completion are the other shock deflectors? Before Tom could answer, he heard excited voices at the other end of the line. Then Algren broke in again abruptly. A news flash, Tom. The walling rangefinder plant has been demolished by an earthquake. End of Chapter 13. Next episode, Chapter 14, Airborne Highjackers.

Tom Swift, and the visitor from Planet X, by Victor Appleton II. This is a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibraVox.org. Chapter 14, Airborne Hijackers. Mr. Swift, hearing Tom's dismayed reaction, rushed to the telephone. "'What's wrong, son?' Tom clamped his hand over the mouthpiece, and quickly gave his father the news of the destroyed rangefinder plant. Then he spoke into the telephone.

"'Burt! We must prevent another disaster. Let me check with our construction company on the Quakalizers, and I'll call you right back.' "'Right, Tom,' Algrin agreed. Both Tom and Mr. Swift were shocked by this latest blow of their enemies. Tom called Ned Newton at the Swift Construction Company at once and told him the news. How soon will the Quakalizers be ready, Uncle Ned? They're finished, Tom. We're running a final inspection on them right now. We can have them ready to ship out by one o'clock.

Tom relayed word to the Pentagon. Burnt Allgren was greatly relieved. By the way, Tom went on, what about the sites? Have they been chosen yet? Only tentatively, Algren replied, we wanted to get your opinion first. One of the deflectors, Algrin felt, should be based in position to guard the New York and New England area, in view of intelligence warnings about a probable attack on New York City. Another, in the Cumberland Plateau region of Kentucky, could damp out shockwaves threatening either the heavily industrialized Great Lakes area or any southern city.

As to the other three quakelizers, Algren suggested that one be installed on the west coast, one in the black hills of South Dakota, and the third on the Atlantic Island of San Rosario. This would protect both Latin American allies and Caribbean defense bases of the United States. Before deciding, Tom asked that Dr. Miles at the Bureau of Mines be circuited into the television.

telephone conversation. Mr. Swift, too, joined in on another line. The four scientists discussed the problem and referred to geologic maps. Finally, the exact sights were agreed upon. Dad, I'm going to deliver and install one of the quakealizers myself, Tom declared, after the telephone conference ended. Judging from that phone imposter last night, there's no telling what sort of trick our enemies may try next. Mr. Swift approved heartily. Good idea, son. In the meantime, I'll see what I can accomplish with old think-box here. Tom notified Uncle Ned of the delivery sites. He requested that because of the urgency of the situation,

Swift planes transport the Quakalizers. Mr. Newton promised to have five cargo jets loaded and prepared for takeoff from the construction company airfield. Next, Tom turned to the job of rounding up flight crews. He decided that Hank Sterling, Arv Hansen, Art Will Tessa, and a crack-swift test pilot, Slim Davis, with each captain a plane. Tom was just hanging up the telephone when Chow wheeled in a lunch cart, bearing sizzling servings of steak for the two Swifts. "'How's old think-box coming along?' Chow inquired.

"'All right now, but he went berserk a while back,' Tom replied with a chuckle. Chow eyed the robot apprehensively and made a hasty exit. Both Tom Jr. and Tom Sr. were amused. As they ate, the two scientists continued their discussions on how to equip X-Man with senses and the power of speech. Several minutes later, when they were finishing dessert, Bud came into the laboratory. Tom, what's this about you hopping off somewhere to install a quakealizer? He asked anxiously. Don't worry, pal. I'll need my usual co-pilot, Tom said with a grin. Just didn't have time to call you before lunch. We'll be flying down to a place called San

Rosario in the Caribbean. At one o'clock, Tom briefed the flight crews and technicians. Slim was provided with three men who had worked on the original model. of the quake deflector. After making sure that every man knew his job, Tom had the groups flown by helicopter over to the Swift Construction Company airfield. Tom and Bud's cargo jet was the second to take off. On signal from the tower, the big workhorse thundered down the runway and soared off into the blue. Soon it was spearing southward above the waters of the Atlantic. Presently, Bud drew Tom's attention to some blurry specks of light on the radar scope. Looks like a formation of plane, skipper!

Tom studied the blips for a while. Guess you're right. It's sure not a flock of seagulls, the young inventor frowned. Worried Tom? Bud asked quietly. Tom shrugged. It could be a routine military flight. He increased speed and climbed for altitude. But the blips on the radar scope showed that the planes were coming steadily closer. It was clear that they were targeting the swift cargo jet. Tom switched on the radio. Presently, a voice crackled over their headphones.

Calling swift jet, the voice was heavily accented. Brongarians, Bud muttered. Tom made no reply to the radio challenge. Again came the voice. Calling swift jet, make emergency landing on the water. Tom's only response was a fresh burst of speed. Gunning the jet motors, he sent the big cargo ship arrowing forward at supersonic velocity. There they are, Bud cried suddenly. He pointed to a cluster of silvery glints in the sky at

seven o'clock. Tom zoomed downward into a billowing cloud bank. It was a feeble hope, and Tom knew it. His only real chance now was to outrun or out-maneuver the marauders. The slim hope faded as they emerged from the cloud cover moments later. The enemy planes were not only still dogging them, but closing in rapidly. Sleak, needle-nosed, attack ships, they appeared to have seaplane hulls. Wow, those are new ones, Bud gasped. One last warning to swift jet. Hit the water or be shut down, came the enemy voice.

Tom raced along. his mind searching frantically for a method of escape. Bud switched off radio power momentarily. "'If we're going to be hijacked, Skipper, let's ditch your invention before it's too late.' Tom shook his head stubbornly. "'Why should I let those pirates bulldoze us? Actually, I think they're after X-Man.'

This last thought was a hunch that had just occurred to Tom. It was clear that their foe had learned about the arrival of the energy from space. But so far, Tom reasoned, there's no cause to suppose they know anything about the quake deflectors. Stalling for time, Tom switched on the radio again

and spoke into the mic. Swift jet to attack planes. Our home base is picking up every word of your threats. Shoot us down, and America will consider it an act of war. Care to risk it? There was a moment's silence,

then a reply. War, you say. How can there be a question of war? War against whom? You do not even know our national identity. Don't kid yourselves, Mr. Bud put in with a snarl. We know all right, and so does United States intelligence. Tom decided to risk a blunt query, without actually giving away any facts, in case his hunch about the Brungarian's knowledge was wrong. There was a phone call to Swift Enterprises last night, he radioed. We know it was a fake. We also know your agents are aware of our visitor, right?

After a pause, the enemy spokesman replied, "'Perhaps, if so, what then?' "'Just this,' Tom radioed back. "'If you're hoping to meet our visitor, you're out of luck. I'll give you my word for it. Do you think we'd risk such a valuable character in an unguarded crate like this? This? Tom and Bud looked at each other.

Somehow both boys felt instinctively that Tom's words had struck home. The enemy had certainly risen to the bait. Finally came the reply, You swifts have a reputation for scrupulous honesty. There was a slight sneer in the speaker's voice, as if he considered this a foolish weakness. You give me your word of honor that this, sir, character is not. not aboard?" "'I do,' Tom snapped.

"'And if you don't trust me, go ahead and risk a war.' The boys waited breathlessly for the outcome of Tom's bold gamble. Soon they saw the result. The pursuing plane suddenly peeled off and sped away in the direction from which they had first appeared. "'Hugh!' Bud wiped his hand across his face and drew it away moist with perspiration. "'How do you like that?' Tom chuckled with relief.

I like it fine, fly-boy. But I was sure worried there for a while. Less than an hour later, the big cargo jet touched down at the San Rosario Airport. An armed guard was on hand to greet the boys, under command of an officer named Captain Sanchez. He had brought along a work crew of soldiers and also a geology expert,

Professor Leon from the island's small technical school. I have selected a spot on the eastern shore of the island, the professor told Tom. He unrolled a map and explained the site. Excellent, Tom agreed. The Quakalizer parts, communications equipment, and small atomic earth blaster were quickly unloaded and transported to the site by trucks. In three hours the installation was finished. Tom, who spoke Spanish fairly well, explained to a small group of San Rosario military

technicians how the quake deflector worked. He also detailed one of his own men to stay on as troubleshooter for the setup. "'And now,' said Captain Sanchez, beaming, "'we must relax and celebrate the friendship of our two countries.' Tom and Bud, though eager to get home, hesitated to hurt the friendly officer's feelings. They sat through a delicious meal, followed by numerous speeches. When his own turned to speak came, Tom used it to warn against possible sabotage attempts by the Brungarians. At last, the boys were allowed to take off with their crew. "'Swell, guys,' Bud said when the boys were airborne.

"'But a bit hard to break away from.' Tom grinned, then became serious. "'You know, Bud,' he said thoughtfully, "'those aerial hijackers gave me an idea. "'Let's have it, Skipper!' "'If only I could get X-Man perfected so he could report back to me, Tom explained, I could let him be kidnapped. Think what a wonderful inside man he'd make in the enemy's setup. He could tip us off to

everything the Brungarians were doing. Hey, that's neat, but exclaimed, wide-eyed. But how could you be sure those Brungarian rebel scientists wouldn't change him somehow? I mean, they might brainwash him or something. It's a risk, Tom agreed. But that's my problem. How to make a perfect spy out of him. It was midnight when the cargo jet touched down on Enterprise's airfield. The boy slept soundly.

The next morning, Tom reported to Mr. Swift and Harlan Ames the outcome of his trip to San Rosario, including the attack en route by unmarked Sky Raders. He also privately told his father about his plan to use use X-Man as an electronic spy. Mr. Swift was enthusiastic. The two scientists promptly set to work. Mr. Swift built two powerful but miniature radio sets, one for receiving, one for transmitting. Tom, meanwhile, was busy on another device, also highly miniaturized, combining features of both the electronic decoder and Tom's famous midget computers, known as Little Idiots. With this equipment,

hoped X-Man would be able to monitor all communications at Brungarian rebel headquarters, then radio the information to enterprises. Chow brought lunch to the laboratory at noon, and Bud came in later. Both stayed to watch the outcome of the experiment. Hank Sterling and Arv Hansen joined the group. By mid-afternoon, the equipment was ready for a tryout. Tom opened X-Man's starhead, inserted the gear, and made the delicate. wiring connections. So far so good, the young inventor murmured, stepping back. Now for the real test.

Will X-Man answer our questions? Tom walked over to the electronic decoder brain and began to tap out a message on the keyboard. The others waited in breathless suspense. End of Chapter 14. Next episode. Chapter 15. Kidnapped.

Tom Swift and the visitor from Planet X by Victor Appleton the 2nd This is a Libervox recording All Libervox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Visit Libravox.org Chapter 15 Kidnapped

The message which Tom signaled in code over the electronic brain said We have a dangerous plan If plan works, you may be exposed to enemy tampering. Will this be safe? Can you stand this? There was a tense pause. Then the signal bell rang on the machine,

and the keys began to punch out a reply on tape. No one can alter this brain, nor can they change its purpose. They can only destroy the energy, holder. As Tom finished reading the message aloud, Chow gave a whoop of delight, and the whole group burst into spontaneous cheers. "'Terrific, Skipper!' Bud exclaimed, clapping his pal in the back. The others gathered around to add their congratulations. Mr. Swift, beaming with pride, gave Tom a quick hand-squeeze. "'It's an amazing achievement, son, and it may prove to be the key for unlocking

the secrets of space, if and when we have time for some research after this crisis is over. I sure hope so, Dad, Tom murmured. Though jubilant, the young inventor realized that this was only the first step in his plan to checkmate the Brungarian rebels. The real peril still lay ahead. Tom called Harlan Ames and asked him to come to the laboratory for a conference. When the security chief arrived, he was as impressed. as the others with the way Tom was able to communicate with X-Man.

The problem now, Tom said, is how do we have him kidnapped? Chow, wary as a coyote, offered his opinion that the safest way would be merely to leave the space robot unguarded somewhere about the grounds of enterprises. Ames shook his head. Too obvious. They'd suspect a trap. Tom agreed. Wow!

Now, then how about trucking him along the highway hereabouts, as if you all were sending him down to Washington? This, too, was vetoed, on the grounds that a shrewd espionage agent would guess that such a valuable prize would never be entrusted to a slow and vulnerable method of transport. Then what about an air flight, Hank Sterling suggested? Brand my six guns, that'd be just binging to get yourself shot. "'Cot down,' Chow fumed. "'Not if we use a plane like the Sky Queen, equipped with jetlifters,' Hank argued.

"'If any hijacked planes jumped us, they'd have to let us come down safely in order to get their hands on X-Man. We could land on the water or just hover while they made the transfer. "'And after they had it safe aboard their own plane, they'd blast yours to smithereens,' Chow retorted. Tom, too, thought a plane flight unwise, but for different reasons. It might look suspicious to the Brungarians after the Swifts had been warned by one aerial hijack attempt. Also, they might be deterred by fear of war, thinking that the United States Air Force

would doubtless be alerted to the possibility of attack. So right, Ames agreed. After a thoughtful pause, he added, Tom, what about transporting X-Man by submarine? We know that every spy apparatus in this hemisphere is constantly trying to probe what goes on at Fearing Island, where our subs are based. No doubt about that, Tom conceded. So, Ames continued, any move to Fearing would certainly make the Brungarian agents prick up their ears. Their own spy subs probably would come prowling around the island and detect the departure of a

Swift sub. And they might feel that an undersea hijack attempt would be a fairly safe gamble. The others looked thoughtful, then slowly nodded in agreement. Ames's reasoning sounded highly logical. Tom, you'll insist on going, I suppose, Mr. Swift said somberly. Of course, Dad. After all, the kidnap plan was my own idea, Tom replied. Another thing I'll insist on is that. you don't go. We have Mother and Sandy to think of, and it's not right that both of us risk our necks. Realizing that it was hopeless to dissuade his son, and realizing the basic fairness of Tom's

proposition, Mr. Swift did not argue. Bud, Hank, Chow, and Arv immediately volunteered to accompany the young inventor on his dangerous mission. Tom gratefully accepted their help. He asked all hands to assemble on the Enterprise's airfield at six the next morning for the flight to fearing. After the others had left, Tom and his father resumed their experiments with X-Man. Mr. Swift suggested adding a device to the radio equipment to make it disintegrate if tampered with. Before those rebel Bulgarians can learn the secret of your electronic spy. Good idea, Dad! And how about our doing the job with Swift-tonium?

This was an unusual radioactive ore which Tom had discovered in South America. Mr. Swift nodded as he began work. Tom watched admiringly as his father reconstructed the radio, coating the entire thing with a swift-tonium compound. He at once placed the set in a small oven, which he raised to fifty degrees centigrade. When this cools, the set will be stable, Mr. Swift said. But if you should move any part of it after it cools, all of the organic parts, like the circuit boards, the insulation, the carbon resistors, etc., will oxidize and disappear as gas.

You will not even be able to tamper with a single unit. "'Wonderful, Dad,' Tom murmured when the device was finished. "'I wish I had your know-how in microchemistry.' "'And I wish I had yours in electronics,' the elder scientist declared. with a chuckle. After Mr. Swift had installed the device in X-Man's starhead, Tom used the electronic brain to inform the robot about the whole scheme. Both Tom Jr. and Tom Sr. were delighted when X-Man showed real enthusiasm. It replied via the printed tape on the decoder. Do not worry, my friends. I will not respond to any attempts by Brungarian scientists to communicate

with me. My planet is well aware of their dangerous aims. Having conquered your world, they would next invade space. Looks as though X-mans got their number all right, Tom said with satisfaction. Early the next morning, Mr. Swift drove Tom to the Enterprise's airfield to meet his friends. Hank Sterling, Bud, and Chow were already on hand, and Arv Hanson arrived a few moments later. Tom and Bud left the others to bring X-Man in a small panel truck. Soon, the space robot was safely loaded aboard a transport helicopter. The others took their places inside the cabin. Good luck, son. Mr. Swift forced a smile as he gave Tom a parting handshake. Don't worry, Dad, I'll be back soon, Tom assured him. The nature of the trip had

been described only vaguely to Mrs. Swift and Sandy in order to keep. keep them from worrying. The short hop overwater to Fearing Island was soon completed. Lying just off the Atlantic coast, Fearing had once been a barren, thumb-shaped expanse of scrub grass and sand dunes. Now it was the Swift's top-secret rocket base, tightly guarded by drone planes and radar. As the helicopter approached its destination, Tom radioed for clearance, then whirred down toward the landing field. The barracks, workshops, and launching area of the base lay spread out in full view.

Cargo rockets bristled on their launching pads, along with Tom's spaceships, including the mighty Titan and the oddly shaped Challenger and Cosmic Sailor. North and south, the island was fringed with docks. Here the recovery tugs and fuel tankers were moored, as well as the Swift's fleet of undersea craft. Tom had chosen a cargo-hauling jet marine, named the Swiftshire.

It was a larger version of his original two-man jet-sub, the ocean dart. He had given orders the night before to have it ready for sea by morning. By Jeep and truck, Tom's group sped across the island to the dock. X-Man was quickly lowered aboard through the sub's hatch. The others followed. The conning-es. tower hatch was dogged shut, and soon the swift sure was gliding off into the shadowy blue-green depths.

"'What's your sailing plan, Skipper?' Hank Sterling inquired. The quiet-spoken, square-jawed engineer stood beside Tom at the atomic turbine controls and looked out through the transparent nose of the jet marine. "'Go slow. Give them plenty of chance to pick up our trail,' Tom replied. For two hours they cruised at moderate. at speed. Nothing happened. Disappointed, Tom surfaced and radioed his father for news after cutting in the automatic scrambling device. You're in time for an exciting flash, Mr. Swift reported jubilantly. What is it, Dad? An attempt to earthquake New York

has just failed. Grins broke out on the faces of the crew as they heard Mr. Swift's words come over the loudspeaker. Bud led out a happy whoop. "'That's great, Dad,' Tom said. "'Maybe we've got them licked on the quake front. No luck so far, though, on our new project.' "'Well, keep in touch and let me know it once if anything happens,' Mr. Swift urged. "'Right, Dad,' Tom promised. Again, the Swift sure submerged. This time it was only a few minutes before Arv Hansen gave a cry of warning. Something on the sonar scope, Skipper.

Bud, Hank, and Chow hastily gathered around the scope to watch. The blip grew larger rapidly. It was clearly another submarine, closing in on a collision course. Tom put on a burst of speed, as if attempting to outrace their pursuer. But he was careful to gauge his knots by reports from the sonar scope, in order not to widen the gap between the two craft. There seemed no danger that this would happen, although the swift sure raced ahead faster and faster.

Still, the enemy's sub continued to close in like a marauding shark, finally passing Tom's craft. "'Some baby!' Bud muttered respectfully. The words were hardly out of his mouth when a missile streaked across their bow, in plain view through the Swift Shur's transparent nose. Its foaming wake rocked the jet marine. They're attacking us, Bud cried out.

Tom slammed shut the turbine throttle, bringing his craft to a gliding halt in the water. At the same time, he switched on the sonar phone. Orders to Swift sub! A voice barked over the set. Surface, and heave too. No tricks, or the next missile will not be across your bow. Tom blew his tanks and sent the swift shore spearing upward. As the conning tower broke water, Tom and his men swarmed up on deck.

Seconds later, a sleek gray enemy submarine knifed into view. Its hatch opened, and several men climbed out. To Tom's amazement, their leader was Samson Narco. Chowled let out a yelp of rage. Why, you sneak and double-died, bush-wacking pole cat, the old Westerner bellowed. We should have kept you hog-tied, instead of letting you go free. Narco ignored the outburst and raised a megaphone to his lips. Hand over your cargo and do it quickly.

What cargo? Tom snapped back. And what's the meaning of this outrage? You realize this is piracy? I realize you will wind up on the bottom at the slightest show of resistance. Narco warned, menacingly. You know very well what cargo I refer to. Now, do not try our patience. Tom and his crew pretended to put up a blustering, indignant front.

Chow was especially convincing, with a blistering torrent of salty Texas. invectives. Narco's only response was a barked-out order to his men in Brungarian. Quickly, the enemy submarine maneuvered closer until the two craft were almost chaka-block. Narco and his men then leaped aboard the Swifshur, armed with submachine guns and automatics.

I'm warning you, Narco, Tom began angrily. But Narco cut the young inventor short by a poke in his ribs with a gun muzzle, then issued orders to two of his men to go below. Moments later, X-Man was being hauled up through the hatch and transferred aboard the raider. The Americans glared in angry silence. Thanks so much, my stupid friends! Narcoe taunted them with a jeering laugh. Then he followed his crewmen as the last one scrambled back to the enemy submarine. With laughs and waves, they disappeared into its conning tower.

The hatch was clamped shut, and the raider promptly submerged. Tom and his men were amazed, but delighted at not having been taken prisoner along with X-Man. All of them broke into happy chuckles of relief. Wow, that's what I call fast service, Bud exclaimed. It was sure a blame sight easier not expected, Chow said. But for a while we might end up feeding the fishes. You put on a real act, Chow, Tom said,

clapping the stout old cook on the back. Well, they've taken the bait. Now let's hope it pays off, for us. The Americans swarmed below again, closed the hatch, and submerged. Tom took his time in bringing the jet pumps up to speed. Wonder if we should pretend to proceed on course, or turn around and head for home, he murmured to Hank.

Hank's reply was cut short by a yell from Hanson at the sonar phone. Missile-coming, Skipper, straight at us. End of Chapter 15. Next episode, Chapter 16. A unique experiment. Tom Swift, and the visitor from Planet X. By Victor Appleton II. This is a Liberbox recording.

All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit Libravox.org. Chapter 16. A unique experiment. Baring? Tom cried. 175, Arv Hanson sang out. Tom gunned his port jet turbine and swung the Swiftshire hard right. The abrupt turn at high speed sent the craft side-slipping crazily like a skidding raceboat. Here she come, Skipper, Bud yelled.

He had rushed to the sonar scope with the other members of the crew. Tom's maneuver had carried them a good hundred yards off the missile's course. Now he yanked a lever, pulling the cadmium rod still farther from the atomic pile in order to increase power and jet blast their sub still farther out of range. But suddenly the men at the scope blanched, "'The missiles turning too!' Hank cried. "'It's homing in on us!' Unlike most swift craft used on scientific expeditions,

the cargo subs hull had not been coated with tomasite. This would have insulated it from all magnetic effects or any form of pulse detection. Tom had chosen the swift sure, partly for this very reason, so that the Brungarian rebels could easily pick up its trail after leaving fearing. How ironic if his choice should prove fatal! As the thought flashed through Tom's brain,

the missile came streaking into view through the sub's transparent nose. By this time, Tom had flipped up the Swifshur's diving planes. The craft plummeted deeper into the ocean depths. "'Brand my way, you'll blubber! She's turning again!' Chow gulped. The missile's arc, as it veered around to follow, painted a streak of light on the sonar scope. Anxious moments raced by,

while Tom steered their craft in a deadly game of tag with the sub-killer. Gradually, the missile appeared to be losing momentum. "'It's slowing down, all right,' Arv called out. In a few minutes, the missile had lost so much way that Tom was easily able to outdistance it. The crew crowded to the scope, heaving sighs of relief. The missile, its velocity spent, sank harmlessly toward the bottom.

Boy, that was a close call, Bud gasped weakly. You played that thing like a toriador side-stepping a bull, Tom. Nice going. The others echoed Bud's sentiments, with fervent handshakes and backslaps for Tom's skillful evasive action. "'Just the same,' said Chow. I'd sure like to make narco and them Brungarian horse thieves dance a Texas jig with a little hot lead sprayed around their boot heels. Sneaking bushwhackers! It's just like I told Hank about his airplane scheme.

They'd try to gun us down, like as not, as soon as they got their hands on X-Man. I guess you had them figured right, Chow, Tom agreed Riley. Well, at least we've lost their sub. The Brungarian Rader was no longer. longer visible even as a faint blip on their radar scope. Evidently Narco had thought the jet marine a sure victim and headed back to his own base. Nevertheless, Tom steered a wary, zigzag course back to Fearing. When they arrived at the island, he immediately telephoned Bert Ulgren and West Norris in

Washington to report the hijacking of the space brain. Both men praised the young inventor for his daring scheme to outwit. the ruthless Brungarian rebel click. If your idea pays off, Tom, we should be able to checkmate every move those phonies and their allies make, Norris declared. I'm hoping we can do even better than that, Tom replied. Part of my plan is to help the Brungarian loyalists

through X-Man's tip-offs. With some smart quarterbacking, we might be able to rally the rightful government before all the resistance is crushed out. "'Terific,' Norris exclaimed. "'Let's hope your scheme works!' Tom had ordered the space oscilloscopes to be manned constantly, both at fearing and at enterprises, in case of a flash from X-Man.

But no word had yet been received when Tom and his companions arrived at the mainland late that afternoon. Mr. Swift greeted his son warmly at the airfield. Tom had refrained from radioing the news to enter, enterprises after the hijacking and the missile attempt. Any such message, Tom feared, might be picked up by the enemy and bring on another attack. But the young inventor had telephoned his father immediately after calling Washington. Now Mr. Swift threw his arm affectionately around the lanky youth. You look pretty well bushed, son. Why not hustle home and call it a day?

"'That goes for the rest of you, too,' he added to Bud, Chow and the others. "'You've just risked your lives, and the strain is bound to tell.' Tom urged his companions to comply. "'But I'm sticking right here,' the young inventor told his father. "'I want to be on hand the minute X-man contacts us.' Bud insisted upon staying with his pal. The two boys ate a quiet supper in Tom's private laboratory, and finally laid down on cots in the adjoining apartment.

But first, Tom posted a night operator to watch the electronic brain. Wake me up the second that alarm bell goes off, he ordered. Okay, Skipper, the radio man promised. No message arrived to disturb the boy's rest. Tom felt a pang of worry as he dressed the next morning, and then relieved the man on duty at the decoder. Had the Brungarian somehow outwitted him? Surely X-Men should have reported by this time.

Relax, pal, but urged. Our space chums hardly had time to learn any secrets yet. Besides, those Brungarian scientists are probably giving him the once-over with all sorts of electronic doodads. Why risk sending a message till he has something important to tell us? That's true, Tom admitted. Chow brought in breakfast. "'You just tie into these vittles, boss, and stop fretting,' the cook said soothingly.

"'I reckon old think-box won't let us down.' Tom sniffed the appetizing aroma of flapjacks and sausages. "'Guess you're right, Chow,' he said with a chuckle. As the boys ate hungrily, Tom's thoughts turned back to the problem of how to equip X-Man with senses. He talked the project over with Bud. Most of his ideas were too technical for Bud to follow, but he listened attentively. He knew the young inventor found it helpful to have a sounding board for his ideas. Too bad I didn't have time to tackle the job before X-Man was kidnapped, Tom mused.

Think how much more he could learn with eyes and ears. Stop crabbing, Bud joked. Isn't an electronic spy with a brain like Einstein's good? enough? Mr. Swift arrived at the laboratory an hour or so later. He found Tom setting up an experiment with a glass sphere to which were affixed six powerful electromagnets. Two shiny electrodes, with cables attached to their outer ends, had also been molded into the glass. Bud was looking on wide-eyed. Tom explained to his father that he had blown the sphere himself, following a formula adapted from the quartz glass used for view panels in his space and under-sea craft.

"'What's it for, son?' Mr. Swift asked, after studying the setup curiously. "'Don't laugh, Dad, but I'm trying to produce a brain of pure energy, a substitute for X-Man, so we can go ahead with our sensing experiments.' Mr. Swift reacted with keen interest and offered to help. "'But remember, son,' he cautioned, "'at best you can only hope to produce an Erzat's brain energy, "'which will be vastly different from the real thing. "'Don't forget, Tom, the mind of a human being,

"'or any thinking inhabitant of our universe, "'is based on a divine soul. "'No scientist must ever delude himself into thinking "'he can copy the work of our creator.' "'I know that, Dad,' Tom said so, Man's work will always be a crude groping, compared to the miracles of nature. All I'm hoping to come up with here is a sort of stimulus response unit that we can use for testing any sensing apparatus we devise.

The two scientists plunged into work. First, a bank of delicate gauges was assembled to record precisely every electrical reaction that took place inside the sphere. Then Tom threw a switch, shooting a powerful ball. bolt of current across the electrodes. The field strength of the electromagnets, controlled by rheostats, instantly shaped the charge into a glowing ball of fire. Wow, a real hot head, Bud wise cracked, trying to hide his excitement.

Tom grinned as he twirled several knobs and checked the gauges. The slightest variation in field strength triggered an instant response from the ball of energy. Mr. Swift tried exposing it. to radio and rappelotron waves. Each time, the gauges showed a sensitive reaction. "'Looks as if we're in business, Dad,' Tom said jubilantly. Bud left soon afterward as the two swifts buckled down to work on the problem of perfecting an apparatus to simulate the human senses.

Each concentrated on a different line of approach. At noon, they broke off briefly for lunch wheeled in by Chow. Then silence settled again over the laboratory. Tom had rigged up a jointed, claw-like mechanical arrangement with sensitive diaphragms in its fingertips. The diaphragms were connected to a transistorized circuit designed to modulate the field current to the electromagnets. Suddenly, the young inventor looked up at his father with a glow of triumph.

Dad, I just got a reaction to my sense of touch experiment. End of Chapter 16. Next episode, Chapter 17, An Urgent Warning. I'm Swift, and the visitor from Planet X. By Victor Appleton II. This is a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit Libravox.org. Chapter 17, An Urgent Warning. looked on eagerly as Tom explained and demonstrated his touch apparatus.

By moving a pentagraph control, Tom was able to manipulate the claws like a hand with fingers. Whenever they touched any material, the brain gauges instantly registered an electrical reaction inside the sphere. The swing of a voltmeter needle showed how firmly the substance resisted the claw's touch, thus indicating its hardness or softness. With a computer device, such as we planted in X-Man, Tom went on, the brain would also be able to assimilate the textural pattern of any substance. Wonderful, son, Mr. Swift exclaimed, I hope I can do as well with this artificial sense of sight I'm working on.

Another hour went by before Mr. Swift was ready to test his own arrangement. You've probably heard of the experiments conducted with blind persons, he told Tom, by stimulating the right part of their brain with a lead from a cathode ray-tube device, an awareness of light and dark can be restored. Tom nodded. Well, I'm using the same principle, Mr. Swift went on, but with a sort of television camera scanning setup. He asked Tom to draw the drapes and shut off the room lights, throwing the laboratory into complete darkness,

except for the weirdly glowing brain in the glass sphere. Then Mr. Swift shone a flashlight at the scanner. The brain responded by glowing more brightly itself. Next, after the drapes were opened again and the overhead fluorescent light switched on, Mr. Swift painted a pattern of black and white stripes on a large piece of cardboard. He held this up to the scanner. Visible ripples of brightness and less brightness passed through the glowing ball of energy inside the sphere.

It was reproducing the striped pattern. pattern. Dad, that's amazing, Tom said with real admiration. Mr. Swift shook his head. Pretty crude, I'm afraid. The brain energy by itself can't take the place of a picture tube in a TV receiver. What we need is an analog computer to sum up the scanning pattern picked up by the camera tube, and then pass this information along in code form. Before Tom could comment, the alarm bell rang on the electronic brain. The Swifts dropped everything and rushed to the machine. Wonder if it's X-Man, Tom exclaimed.

The answer was quickly revealed as the keys began punching out the incoming message on tape. At the same time, a flow of strange mathematical symbols flashed, one after another, on the lighted oscilloscope screen mounted above the keyboard. Tom and his father read the tape as it unrealed. Space, beings, two, swifts. Request information on progress and results of energy sent to your planet.

After a quick consultation with his father, Tom beamed out the reply. We are pleased with results so far. Further experiments now going on. Request visit to continue longer than 21 days as planned. Hopefully the Swift stood by the machine. Would their space friends agree? As the minutes went by without a response coming through, father and son exchanged anxious glances. They've got to let X-Man stay, Dad. Mr. Swift nodded. I'm afraid, though, the space beings have decided otherwise. They—he was interrupted by the ringing of the alarm bell.

"'Message, Dad,' Tom said Tursley. A moment later, they were overjoyed to see three words appear on the tape. Visit extension. Granted. Relieved, the two scientists went back to work on their sensing experiments. Twenty minutes later, the signal bell rang again on the electronic brain. "'This time it must be X-Man,' Tom cried. The unreeling tape quickly bore out his gaze.

guess. "'Ex-man, two Swifts. "' Twenty-four-hour earthquake under high loyalty.' "'What?' Tom stared at the tape. His brow creased in a puzzled frown. "'That 24-hour earthquake bit must mean he's warning us that a quake will occur in 24 hours. But what about the rest of it?' "'Hm, under high loyalty.' Mr. Swift was as baffled. as Tom. He studied the message for several minutes. It seemed highly unlikely that the electronic brain had made an error in decoding. Any new or untranslatable symbol caused a red light to flash

on the machine. I think the only thing we can do is signal X-Man and ask for a clarification, Tom, Mr. Swift decided at last. Tom agreed. He beamed out a hasty code signal. Explain message. Seconds later came X-Man's reply. It was identical with the first message. Twenty-four hour, earthquake, under, high, loyalty. Tom and Mr. Swift stared at each other anxiously. Good night, Dad.

This is horrible, Tom exclaimed. X-Man sends us ample warning of a disaster, and we're stymied. "'Hi! What's going on, you two?' asked a merry voice. "'More heavy thinking?' Sandy Swift stood smiling in the doorway. The smile gave way to a look of concern as Tom explained the crisis. "'How dreadful!' Sandy gasped. "'We must figure out what it means. "'Wait a minute.'

Tom looked at her expectantly. "'Got an idea, sis?' "'Well,' the pretty blonde teenager has. hesitated. You don't suppose X-Man might have been translating some foreign words with a meaning similar to high loyalty? For instance, high loyalty could mean good faith. I know that in Latin good faith would be bona fidey. Sandy, you've guessed it! Tom crossed the room in a single bound, gave his sister a quick hug, and whirled her around. X-Man must mean the Bonafide submarine building corporation. He didn't dare risk telling us the exact translation.

Of course, Mr. Swift was equally jubilant, but his face was grave as he added. The company's located on the West Coast, close to the San Andreas Fault. Tom, a quake in that area could be devastating. You're right, Dad, the young inventor replied. I'll call Dr. Miles and burnt Algren at once. The telephone conversation that followed was grim with tension. Both government men begged Tom to take personal charge of the quake deflection measures. Dr. Miles pointed out that tremors along the fault might trigger off a chain of quakes amounting to a national disaster.

After a hasty discussion, Tom agreed that he would station himself at the Colorado site, rather than at the West Coast Quakalizer installation. This would give him a broader situation. scope for damping out shockwaves across the continent. I'll fly out immediately, the young inventor promised. Olgren, meanwhile, would flash orders to the bona fide company and to civilian officials to have the entire area evacuated as soon as possible. Hasty preparations were made for Tom's departure.

He telephoned the airfield to have a jet plane with lifters ready for takeoff. He also had Bud paged over the plant intercom. The co-pilot came on the run. When he heard the news, he was eager to accompany his pal. "'Listen you two. I insist you have something to eat before you leave,' Sandy declared. Tom was impatient over any delay. When Sandy proceeded to call Chow, the old Texan solved the problem by volunteering to go along as cook. A short time later, Chow came jouncing out to the airfield, astridea motor scooter,

hauling a cart loaded with supplies. "'Good grief,' Tom said, unable to suppress a grin. "'We'll be back tomorrow, unless something goes wrong.' "'Bring food! That's my motto!' Child retorted, like any good cook. Minutes later, after a parting handshake from his father and a worried kiss from Sandy,

Tom sent the sleek jet racing down the runway for takeoff. Soon they were airborne and heading westward. Chow served a tasty meal on route. It was still daylight when the jet landed vertically in the Colorado Canyon. The government crew manning the installation and the swift technician who had relieved Art Wiltsa as troubleshooter on the setup, greeted them eagerly. Looks as if we're in for a real test, Tom, said Mike Burroughs, the engineer in charge. Let's hope we pass, said Tom, holding up cross.

fingers. He checked every detail of the quakealizer, power plant, and the communications gear. He opened an inspection panel in each of the dual-controlled spheres and tuned the kinetic hydraulic units so as to step up the working pressure of the four powerful drivers. Well, all we can do now is wait, the young inventor muttered, wiping his arm across his forehead. Tom passed the night in a fitful sleep, half expecting to be wakened at at any moment by the standby crew on watch. No alarm occurred, however. Dawn broke, and Chow delighted all hands with a hearty breakfast of bacon eggs and corn fritters. More hours of waiting dragged by.

"'What time do you think the attack will occur?' Bud asked. Tom shrugged. The twenty-four-hour business may have been approximate, but I'd say from two o'clock on is the danger period. The young inventor checked frequently with Washington and the other crew stationed around the country. Suddenly, the radio telephone operator gave a yell. "'Your father's on the line, Skipper!' The scientist was calling from the receiver computer headquarters at Enterprises. X-Man has reported a quake pulse will be sent in seven minutes at 2136 GMT. "'I'm ready, Dad,' Tom said.

then asked for various technical details before hanging up. He passed the word to the crew and glanced at his watch. A hasty last-moment inspection was carried out, every man checking certain details of the setup. Soon the pulse-makers began ticking inside the dual-control spheres as they picked up the frequency signal by radio. Tom studied the gauge dials. Tension mounted rapidly among the waiting group.

The same thought was throbbing through every mind. Was the nation on the brink of a terrible disaster? Or would Tom Swift's invention safeguard the threatened area? As the deadline approached, Tom pushed a button. The mighty hydraulic drivers throbbed into action, sending out their pulse waves across the continent. End of Chapter 17. Next episode.

Chapter 18. Earthquake Island Tom Swift and the visitor from Planet X by Victor Appleton 2nd This is a Libervox recording All Libervox recordings are in the public domain

For more information or to volunteer Visit librivox.org Chapter 18 Earthquake Island Now came the hardest part of all for Tom and his companions Waiting to learn if the shock deflectors had succeeded in blotting out the enemy quake wave.

No one spoke. As the silence deepened inside the cave, the suspense became almost unbearable. Minutes passed. "'When will we know, Skipper?' a crewman ventured at last. "'Soon, I hope,' Tom replied, Tersely. But the waiting seemed endless. Bud's eyes met Tom's. The flyer grinned and held up crossed fingers, just as Tom had done to Mike Burroughs the previous evening. Tom managed a feeble grin in response.

Suddenly, the telephone shrilled, shattering the silence of the cave. Tom snatched it from the radio man's hands. Tom Swift here? Yes? Thank heavens! I guess we can all be grateful, Mr. Miles. Providence protected us, I'm sure, Tom. the seismologist replied at the other end of the line. But in this instance, it worked through Tom Swift's quakealizers.

The bona fide plant and the surrounding area never even felt the tremor. Your quake deflectors worked perfectly. There was no need to tell the others. Tom's words on the telephone and the grin on his face told the story. A spontaneous volley of cheers echoed through the cave as he hung up. Then the crew crowded around to slap Tom on the back and shake his hand. "'I hope the whole country learns what you've done, Tom,' Mike Burrow said. "'If it doesn't, I'll be the first to spread the word as soon as the secrecy lids taken off.'

"'Shooks, I knew all along Tom's contraption would do the trick,' Chow boasted, glowing with pride over his young boss's achievement. Tom could only smile happily. "'Yes, we can go home now,' he said to Bud and Chow. They were preparing to leave when another flash from Washington came over the radio telephone. A ship's captain, 500 miles out on the Pacific, had just reported sighting a great water spout, accompanied by considerable wave turbulence. "'It could have been the spot where the enemy shockwaves and our deflector waves

"'metter waves met and damped out,' Tom commented. "'Dr. Miles thinks so, too.' the caller said. Soon the sleek Swift jet was arrowing back across the continent. On route, Tom radioed word of his latest triumph to Mr. Swift. As always, he used the automatic scramblers to make sure any enemy eavesdroppers would pick up only static. Great work, son, Mr. Swift congratulated Tom.

I was confident you could handle the situation with your quakealizers. Thanks, Dad. See you soon. When the jet finally landed at Enterprises and came to a halt on the runway, the control tower operator spoke over the radio. Harlan Ames would like to see Tom Jr. at the security building. He left word just a few minutes ago. Roger, Tom replied.

Chow frugally carted off his leftover supplies. Tom and Bud, meanwhile, went by Jeep across the plant grounds to security headquarters. Ames greeted the two boys enthusiastically. "'Nice going on that earthquake situation, Tom,' he said. "'And now I have some more good news. We've just nabbed the man who imitated your father's voice over the phone the other night.' "'What?' both boys were excited, and Tom added eagerly. "'Who is he?'

"'An actor at the Shopton Summer Playhouse.' "'How did you find out?' Tom asked. asked. "'I had a hunch,' Ames went on. "'If the impersonator wasn't a plant employee at Enterprises, then he had to be a person with a trained voice. That gave me the idea of checking on all the actors and station announcers here in the vicinity. It paid off right away. The guy's name is Brent Nolan.'

"'Have you questioned him yet?' Tom asked. "'I'm about to,' Ames replied. Radner just brought him in. The security chief led the way into an adjoining office. A slender, good-looking young man with blonde, wavy hair, was seated on a chair with Phil Radner on one side of him and a Shopton police officer on the other. The actor was visibly nervous and perspiring.

This is Tom Swift, Jr., Ames told him. Brent Nolan. Nolan nodded. Yes, I've seen your picture in the same. the papers many times. The actor tried to force a smile, but his face muscles twitched. I—I seem to have pulled a pretty dumb stunt by faking that phone call from your father. I'm sorry. What was the reason, Tom asked. Nolan fingered his wavy blonde hair uneasily and swallowed hard. A man named Professor Runkle paid me to do it.

Professor Runkle, Tom frowned. The name seemed vaguely familiar. He spoke with a foreign accent, said he was doing research at Granddike University, no one explained. He told me you might be expecting a rare biological specimen from the East Indies. He said both of you were eager to get hold of it,

for research purposes, but he was afraid that you had outbid him. However, if he asked you straight out, you would guard the secret very jealously, So, he hired me to find out. Didn't it occur to you he might be an espionage agent? Ames asked coldly. Nolan seemed shocked. Believe me, I had no such idea, he averred.

Runkle seemed pleasant. He said it all was merely a shortcut to save him from wasting any more time on the project. If Tom Swift had the specimen, he would quit. I—I guess I'm a little bit vain about the way I can mimic voices, and this gave me a chance to show off. Besides, I saw no harm in doing it. No harm, Bud snorted. You had swift enterprises in a real lather when we found out.

Nolan spread his hands in a helpless gesture. I'm truly sorry, he repeated. How were you able to find out how my father's voice said? sounded, Tom asked. I listened to a recording of a speech he made at the Fourth of July rally here in Shopton, Nolan explained. I borrowed the tape from a local radio station. Guess that's how your security men got on to me.

What did this fellow Runkle look like? Heames asked. Nolan thought for a moment. Oh, he was past middle age, I should say. Grizzled hair, thick-lensed glasses. and he was quite heavy set. Hmm. Then it certainly wasn't narco, Ames murmured to Tom. The young inventor nodded.

I believe I know him. The name just came back to me. I met a professor Runkle in New York about a month ago, at a scientific convention. He was a member of the visiting Brungarian delegation. We'll check on him, Ames promised. He turned back sternly to the young, actor. All right, Nolan, I guess you can go, but I warn you, no more impersonations.

After more flustered apologies, the actor hurried out, obviously relieved. What a dumb egg he is, Bud muttered. In a way, he may have helped us, Tom pointed out. If the Brungarian rebels hadn't found out about X-Man, we couldn't have lured them into that kidnap plot. It's already he's. helped us to save the bona fide submarine building corporation. Monday morning, Ames reported that Professor Runkle had left the country. Tom was not sorry, since an arrest and public trial might have led to dangerous publicity about X-Man. The probings of a sharp-tonged-tongue attorney might even have tipped off

the Brungarian to Tom's real purpose in letting the space brain be hijacked. Meanwhile, a telephone call from Washington announced that state's Department men were flying to enterprises to confer with the Swifts about taking official action against the Brungarian attacks. The group arrived by jet after lunch. Thurston of the CIA was also present. The problem is this, a State Department official said as they discussed the matter in the Swift's office. Should we bring charges against Brungaria before the United Nations, or should we rely on other means, short of war, to block the Brungarian rebel coup. Mr. Swift frowned thoughtfully.

"'It might be difficult to prove they were responsible for the earthquake attacks,' he pointed out. "'I'd say it's impossible,' Tom said, unless we give away the secret about our electronic spy.' He paused, then added, "'Sir, if the State Department will agree, I'd like more time before you make any official moves. The Quagelizers, Tom argued, seemed to offer protection against any future quake waves, unless the power of the shocks was greatly stepped up. Meantime, working through X-Man,

Tom might be able to provide the Brungarian loyalists with valuable information. I'm hoping it will help them overthrow the rebel clique and their brutal allied military bosses. The State Department men conferred then Thurston spoke up quietly. In our opinion, it's worth a gamble. After the group had left, the Swifts resumed their sensing experiments in Tom's private laboratory. They were hard at work when the signal bell suddenly rang on the electronic brain. The two scientists rushed to read the incoming message. It said,

X-Man, two Swifts. One enemy earthquake producer is at Here the message gave precise latitude and longitude figures. It went on. Ruin of Swift Place in one week. Tom and his father gasped in dismay. I thought the New York-New England Quakalizer was going to protect us, the young inventor exclaimed.

Our enemies must have located another Earth fault with enterprises right in its path. Hastily opening an Atlas, Tom fingered the local location of the proposed source of attack. It was Balala Island off the coast of Peru. Dad, that settles it, Tom declared grimly. It's clear now that those Brungarian rebels want to destroy us and use X-Man in some way to conquer the earth. I don't doubt that you're right, son, Mr. Swift said grimly. We must act fast. But how? Again, the signal bell interrupted.

This time, X-Man gave a number of military details, evidently picked up from orders issuing from Brungarian rebel headquarters. They concerned incoming troop movements from the north and operational plans for crushing out the last pockets of resistance by loyal government forces. Tom recorded them with TV tape, then snatched up the telephone and called the Central Intelligence Agency in Washington. He relayed the information from X-Man and asked if American agents could transmit it to the loyalists.

Don't worry. We'll see that it reaches them, the CIA chief assured Tom. Many thanks. This could have important consequences. As Tom hung up, he decided on a bold move. Dad, I'm going to lead a raid on Balala. A raid? The elder scientist was electrified. According to the Atlas, the island is barren and deserted, Tom said. So no friendly power will object if we land there. If it's being used as an enemy base for quake attacks against our country,

we have every right to investigate. I might be able to learn the secret of the setup, perhaps even put the equipment out of commission. Nevertheless, a raid by a United States force could lead to trouble if the base there puts up any resistance, Mr. Swift said gravely. "'That's why I intend to handle it myself,' Tom declared. "'I'll take all responsibility.' Tom's senior's eyes flashed as he recalled some of his own hair-raising exploits in younger days.

"'All right, son,' he said, putting a hand on Tom's shoulder. "'I know I can trust your judgment. Good luck.' Again, Tom issued a call for volunteers. Bud, Hank Sterling, Arv Hansen, and Chow were all eager to take part. Within an hour, they were taking off for fearing. At the rocket base, they embarked in the Sea Hound, Tom's favorite model of his diving sea copter. A powerful central rotor with reversible pitch blades, spun by atomic turbines, enable the craft to rise through the air or descend into the deepest abysic abysic.

of the ocean. Propulsion jets gave at high speed in either medium. Loaded with equipment, the sea hound stretched southward through the skies, first to Florida, then across the Gulf and Central America into the Pacific. Here Tom eased down to the surface of the water and submerged. It was near midnight when the sea hound rose from the depths just off Balala. The lonely, rocky island lay outlined like a huddled black mass against the star-flected southern sky. No glimmer of light showed anywhere ashore. Maybe no one's here, Bud murmured. Don't bank on that, Tom said. They wouldn't be apt to advertise their presence to passing ships or planes. Tom nosed inshore as closely as he dared from sonar soundings, finally

easing the sea hound up to a rocky reef that fingered out from the beach. Then he, Bud, Hank, and Arv clambered out, armed with wrecking tools and powerful flashlights. Chow, in spite of his muttered grumblings, was ordered to stay aboard and guard the ship with the other two crewmen who had come along. Tom led his party cautiously ashore from the reef. They probed the darkness of the beach. Their footfalls sounded eerily in the night's silence, broken only by the suffing of the sea-wind and splash of breakers. Good place for spooks, Bud whispered jokingly.

A steep draw led upward among the rocky slopes. A hundred feet on, Tom's group found the black yawning mouth of a cave. The yellow beams of their flashlights revealed a tunnel leading downward inside. Tom checked with a pocket detector. Its gauge needle showed no field force caused by electrical equipment in operation. Okay, let's go in, Tom murmured. Cautiously they moved into the tunnel. Then suddenly, ahead of them, a powerful dazzling light burst on, nearly blinding the searchers. End of Chapter 18. Next episode, Chapter 19. Afeet. A Feud.

Fiendish Machine. Tom Swift and the visitor from Planet X. By Victor Appleton II. This is a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit Libravox.org. Chapter 19. A fiendish machine.

A chill of fear gripped Tom and his companions as they blinked helplessly in the glare. Had the enemy detected them from the first moment they had set foot on Balala Island? Had they walked blindly into a trap? Gradually Tom's eyes, and those of his friends, adjusted to the dazzling radiance. A door, blocking the tunnel just ahead, had slid open, and the light was pouring out of a room beyond. What happened? Arv gasped. Tom pointed downward to a pedal-like plunger inserted in the tunnel floor. "'This must be a switch,' he explained.

"'When I stepped on it accidentally, it must have opened the door and flashed on the lights.' "'Bud whistled. "'Wow, let's be thankful it wasn't a booby trap.' "'Maybe it is,' murmured Hank grimly. "'Stealing their nerves, and with every sense alert, the searchers advanced into the secret room. Tom suddenly gave a cry of amazement. "'The earthquake machine!' A huge hydraulic device, with massive steel bed and supporting pillars,

looking somewhat like the enormous body presses found in automobile plants, stood embedded in a recess in one wall. Tom rushed to the machine and examined it in fascination. A powerful diesel generator stood nearby with banks of complicated electrical equipment, amid a spider-web tangle of wiring. Tom assumed this gear was for timing and synchrony, synchronizing the shockwaves. Evidently, the whole setup was operated from a single control panel in the wall, studded with knobs and dials.

"'What a job of design!' Tom exclaimed in awe. His eyes roved over every detail of the equipment while he poked here and there with his hands. He was getting the feel of the setup almost as much by touch and handling as by his superb technical intuition. "'Boy, I hate to admire anything those Brungarian rebel scientists do, but this is really masterful.' "'Yes, well don't go gaga over it,' said Bud. "'Let's do what we came to do and scram out of here. This place makes me jumpy.'

Tom appeared oblivious. "'It seems like vandalism to wreck such an engineering achievement. Also, and this may sound strange to you,' he went on in a a doubtful tone. Are we really justified in taking the law into our own hands? They're out trying to wreck our setup, aren't they? Bud retorted. Think of the destruction they've caused already.

Do you want to stand by and see enterprises destroyed, too? Bud's right, Hank Sterling spoke up quietly. Take a look at this. He beckoned them over to another corner of the cave and pointed to a series of notations, crudely scrawled in white chalk on the cave wall. Half hidden behind a clump of rock, they would have escaped casual notice.

Tom read them and gave an angry gasp. A list of places and dates already checked off, showing the quakes that had occurred so far. The last notation, not yet checked, said, Swift Enterprises, and was dated five days ahead. Okay, that's all the first. the convincing I need, Tom said grimly. He issued quick orders. Hank and Arv were to rush back to the sea hound, get an underwater pump from the gear carried aboard, and install it just off the beach.

From there, they were to run a pipeline into the cave, using special plastic tubing which hooked together in a jiffy. Covered the piping with sand and gravel, so it won't be noticed, Tom added. In the meantime, Bud and I will go to work on this setup here. "'I-I, Skipper,' Hank and Arv responded. As they hurried out through the tunnel, Tom and Bud set to work with the tools they had brought along. The diesel was partly dismantled, sand poured into its fuel feed, and the generator windings ripped out. The boys then tore off and tangled all wiring leads to the electrical equipment, took apart much of the equipment itself, and smashed to the control panel.

Boy, if those Brungarian creeps get this set up working again, they're really geniuses, Bud said as he and Tom paused a second. This is only the beginning, pal, Tom said. Let's tackle the machine. The huge earthquake device was a far more difficult proposition to disable. Its heavy structural parts had to be disassembled or pried apart one by one. Both boys were streaked with sweat as they finished. By this time, Hank and Arve had the piping installed halfway into the tunnel. Spurred on, as if by a sixth sense of danger, Tom told them to go back to the beach and get the

pump working, while he and Bud connected the few remaining pipe lengths into the machine room. Minutes later, their job done, Tom and Bud rushed out to the mouth of the cave and waved their flashlights. Soon the water could be heard boiling through the pipeline. It gushed out. It gushed out, with a roar, flooding the machine room. "'Let's go!' Tom cried, yanking Bud's arm. As they reached the beach and joined Hank and Arve, Tom's keen ears picked up the drone of a plane, somewhere in the darkness. He gave a yell of alarm and pointed skyward. A ghost-like jet came zooming into view, boring straight toward them. All four broke into a mad

dash for the sea-copter. They were halfway out on the air. the reef when the plane leveled out of its dive with an ear-splitting whine. "'Hide!' Tom shouted, fearing a bomb might be dropped. All leaped for cover among the rocks. At the same instant, a fiery beam like a bolt of lightning shot from the plane. It seared the spot on the reef they had just vacated. "'A ray-gun!' Bud gasped. The plane's speed had already carried it far past the island. Before it could maneuver around for another pass, Tom and his companions were on their feet, racing for the safety of the sea hound.

They were aboard and clamping shut the hatch lid as the jet made its second pass. This time, its fiery ray glanced harmlessly off the sea copter's tomasite sheathing. Seconds later, the sea hound had darted off beyond reach into the ocean waters. "'Phew! We really broke all speed records that. time, Arv panted. The others looked at him with one but triumphant grins. Then they began to speculate on what the beam-like bolt was, who was in the plane, and if their enemy knew who Tom's group were. Dawn was streaking the sky when the sea-copter arrived at Fearing Island. The adventurers flew back to enterprises at once. Tom and Bud snatched a few hours sleep in the apartment

adjoining Tom's laboratory. Later in the morning, the whole group gathered in Tom's laboratory to recount the raid to Mr. Swift and Harlan Ames. A bell signal from the electronic brain brought them rushing to the decoder. Grim news awaited them. The message said, "'X-Man to Swift's. Your enemies are now sure I am spy. They plan to destroy me.' "'No, it mustn't happen,' Tom cried in dismay.

"'Dad, I'll rescue him myself.' His words were greeted with shocked protests from the others. "'Don't be crazy,' Bud said. "'You wouldn't have a chance.' "'It would be suicide,' Arv Hanson declared. Chow grabbed his young boss by the arm. "'Brand my cayenne pepper. Before I'd let you make a blaine fool move like that,

I'd rope and hog-tie you myself.' Ames interjected the most convincing argument. "'I know how you feel, Tom,' he said sympathetically, "'but I'm positive the United States government would never permit such a risky undertaking.' Tom was beside himself with anxiety. Not only had he worked and struggled to make the space brains visit a scientific success, but also it was he who had thought of the scheme

to use X-Man as a spy. In Tom's eyes, if the Brungarian rebels were to destroy the brain's body, it would amount to murder. The young inventor knew that the destruction of the body would not destroy the energy, but that it would be lost as far as the Earth was concerned. Who knew, Tom asked himself, what priceless secrets the brain might ultimately yield to Earth's scientific researchers? If the Brungarians were to succeed, this might deter the swift space friends, from ever attempting another visit to our planet. In despair, Tom turned to his father.

"'You know how much is at stake, Dad?' he pleaded. "'Isn't there something we can do?' Mr. Swift had been silent, thoughtfully drumming his pencil on the workbench. He looked up. "'Tom, I can think of only one thing,' he said. "'Perhaps our friends on Planet X can help us. They said they would have no control over the energy until it was ready to return home. But maybe we can get them to help us transfer the energy back here,

not by any means of Earth transportation, but by some extraterrestrial means known to their scientists. Tom's eyes kindled with hope. Dad, that's a terrific idea, he exclaimed. Let's try. A message was quickly beamed out into space. minutes went by. Then the machine signaled a reply. It said, We will attempt rescue, if you will arc a powerful radio beam from point of original Earth landing to point where energy is now. Moments later, a further message followed, giving technical instructions on how to project the beam. It ended,

Notify us when setup is ready. "'Yahu!' Chow whooped. "'Berang my space guns! "'I reckon we'll get old think box home safe after all!' "'He's not home yet, Chow,' Tom cautioned, grinning but still tense with worry. "'Glad you said that, though. "'It reminds me that the first job on our hands

"'is to build a new think-box for X-Man.' "'With Hope Alive, Tom turned icy calm and buckled down to the work at hand. Before beginning construction of a new space robot, he contacted X-Man via the electronic brain and asked him for his exact location in Brungaria. The answer came in precise latitude and longitude. Next, Tom radioed instructions for the rescue plan.

As soon as X-Man was notified that the invisible force from planet X was ready to transport his energy, he was to unlatch point five of his starhead. He would then be free to attach his energy to the rescue beam and be arced back to the hillside spot near enterprises where Tom would have a new robot body waiting. X-Man replied Tursley. Message understood, we'll comply.

Tom snapped out orders. Hank, Arv, Bud, and Dad, we can sure use your help too. Every hour may be precious. we must construct a replica of X-Man's robot container as fast as possible. Every resource of swift enterprises was convulsed into action. But for all their scientific miracles, the staff could not perform magic. The complicated robot device required hours of highly skilled construction. Darkness had fallen by the time the energy container was ready.

Meanwhile, a powerful transmitter and directional antenna had been set up at the hillside spot. Extensive reports on the condition of the ionosphere poured into headquarters. The Swifts and their small group of trusted associates trucked the new robot and the electronic brain out to the site. Tom then signaled his space friends that he was ready. They responded with the exact time for the rescue attempt. Tom transmitted the information to X-Man, who replied, Danger near, Brungarian scientists, ready to destroy me. "'Great bellowing buffaloes!' Chow gulped. "'Please make it quick, Tom. We've got to save that space critter.'

Tom glanced at his illuminated watchtile. The countdown ticked by. Suddenly his hand closed a switch, transmitting the rescue beam. More moments passed as the Swifts and the watchers strain their eyes toward the night sky. "'Here it comes!' Bud yelled suddenly. Fier bluish-white light had suddenly flamed into view. It grew steadily larger. Tom poised the container and opened one point of the starhead. Now the blue fireball was arcing down over the hillside, trailing its orange-red comet tail. It hissed into the container, and Tom snapped shut the starhead. The next moment the young inventor wavered and slumped unconscious.

End of Chapter 19. Next episode, Chapter 20, The Robot Spies Story. Tom Swift and the visitor from Planet X by Victor Appleton II. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibraVox.org. Chapter 20, The Robot Spy. Story. Tom, his father cried. Anxiously, the others crowded around

the lanky young inventor who had fallen beside the new robot. Stand back, give him air, but urged. How is he, Mr. Swift? The elder scientist was feeling Tom's wrist. His pulse is beating, but it's a bit weak. He must have received a terrible shock from all that energy. Tom, Tom, son, can you hear me?

The young inventor moaned and stirred faintly, but his eyes did not open. His cheeks and lips seemed colorless in the glow of Mr. Swift's flashlight. Chow was terrified, hovering about helplessly. I'll call Doc Simpson to bring a pole motor, Hank exclaimed. Yes, do, Hank, Mr. Swift pleaded. Quick! An ambulance arrived a few minutes later. Doc Simpson and an attendant leaped out,

and the resuscitation equipment specially designed. designed by the Swifts for their planet infirmary was hastily unloaded. Anxious moments followed, but finally Tom began to respond to the treatment. Soon his eyes were open, and he regained full consciousness. As Doc held a paper cup of water for him to sip, Tom smiled wanly. Okay, he murmured. I'm all right now. Sorry if I scared you, Dad. He started to get up. It's a hospital bed for you, skimps.

and no arguments, Doc Simpson said sternly. What happened here? I believe, Mr. Swift answered, that our space friends, in finding a way to move the energy back to us, had less close control over it on Earth than when they sent it from space. By mid-morning the next day, Tom had awakened refreshed from a good night's sleep and felt normal again. Over Doc Simpson's protests, he insisted upon dressing and hurrying over to his laboratory. Here he found his father working intently amid a jumble of mechanical parts, tools, and electronic equipment.

Nearby stood X-Man, with a panel open in his upper body, exposing the controls and output equipment. "'Hi, Dad,' Tom exclaimed as he strode into the laboratory. "'What's doing with old think-box?' Mr. Swift looked up with a smile of relief. "'Morning, son. All well again? That's wonderful.' I'm just giving X-Man an artificial speech mechanism. He's already briefed us via the electronic brain on the situation in Brungaria, but I thought it would be even better if he could tell us in person. Details on the earthquake plot, Mr. Swift went on,

had already been reported to the Defense Department. Tom's raid on Balala Island had effectively blocked further quake attempts. The Brungarian rebels had become enraged by their failure to extract X-Man's secrets, and had decided to disintegrate the robot creature and its brain energy. But the youthful Brungarian loyalist group had kept them so busy with resistance outbreaks that they had delayed too long. Lucky thing, Tom put in with an affectionate grin at X-Man. If they had started to destroy him half an hour sooner, it might have been pretty sad for old

think-box. Tom was intrigued by his father's design for an artificial. speech mechanism. After talking it over, they decided that Tom would go to work on a central computer device to integrate all the senses. He would also provide X-Man with ears, which would be sound reception equipment. Mr. Swift, meanwhile, would continue work on the speech mechanism and also perfect the seeing equipment he had started earlier. The day sped by as the two Swifts worked with feverish intensity. Lunch was eaten from their workbenches, but the inventors reluctantly halted at dinner time.

After a tasty meal of fried chicken at home with Mrs. Swift and Sandy, both Tom's return to the plant. Father and son labored until well past midnight on their experiments. Then they snatched a few hours of sleep and resumed their tasks early the next morning. By early afternoon, an atmosphere of excitement pervaded enterprises. The visitor from Planet X would soon, be able to communicate directly with his earth friends. Bud, Chow, Hank Sterling,

Arv Hanson, and Art Wiltsa gathered in the laboratory, along with several other Swift-key men. Mrs. Swift, Sandy, and Phil also arrived to watch. At last, the sensing equipment was completed and installed. X-Man was ready to speak. His voice came out haltingly, but as the words were selected from a vast taped collection. They were clear and bold. "'Greetings to you, my earth, friends.' Sandy gave a squeal of delight, and the room echoed with applause for X-Man's first effort. After a few adjustments, he was able to speak more freely and smoothly. Tom whispered to Phil, Confidentially, we had a dummy run before lunchtime. At first, all X-man could do was

croak like a frog. Phil, thrilled by the spectacle of a speaking space creature, gave the young inventor's hand a squeeze. Tom, he's just wonderful. Tom agreed. Our country owes him a lot for exposing the Brungarian rebel schemes. To Tom's amazement, X-man's ears picked up his murmured words, even above the babble of the spectators crowding the room. Your country owes you much, much Tom Swift, the creature said. You conceived the idea of an electronic spy and found ways to block the rebels' destructive earthquake plans. As Tom flushed at the crowd's applause, X-Men continued. Unless I am mistaken, you will soon learn that you have accomplished even more. Tom was mystified by this. Meanwhile, the spectators listened spellbound as X-Man went on talking, telling what

he had learned of the valiant resistance efforts to overthrow the Brungarian rebels. A short time later, the telephone rang. Tom answered, and the operator informed him that John Thurston of Central Intelligence was calling. "'Great news, Tom,' the CIA man said. "'We've just learned that the rightful Brungarian government forces have struck hard in the capital city and at half a dozen other points. The rebel puppets and their troops have been crushed completely. Tom was enthusiastic over the news.

That's not all, Thurston went on. In case you don't realize it, the information which you supplied by means of your electronic spy is chiefly what enabled the government forces to win out. They promised to dismantle the rebels' other two earthquake bases. As Tom hung up and relayed the electrifying news, Bud and the others burst into cheers. It is all due to Tom Swift and his secret assistant, X-Man said. Tom was puzzled by the remark, but had no time to ask what he meant, as the people in the room crowded around to shake his hand.

Mr. and Mrs. Swift smiled proudly at their son's latest triumph. Phil and Sandy expressed their feelings by giving Tom a quick kiss. "'Hey, where do I come in?' Bud protested. Before the girls could answer, the door of the laboratory opened and Harlan Ames walked in, accompanied by a lean, gray-eyed young man with dark, close-cropped hair. Samson Narco Chowled out a yelp of rage. "'Oh, I bring my sagebrush hash! It's that double-cross-garian!'

"'Hold it, Chow!' Ames cut short the outburst. "'Allow me to introduce one of America's mother's mother's most effective counter-espionage agents. Mr. Sampson Narco. Tom and his friends were astounded. Narco himself smiled somewhat uncomfortably. I can imagine how you all feel, you especially, Tom, but believe me, I could not risk pulling my punches, even when it put you all in grave peril, such as when I fired that missile across the bower of your sub. I could only hope that Tom Swift would succeed in eluding us. Ames quickly briefed the others on Narco's background.

Brungarian-born, he'd received his engineering training in the United States and had learned to love America. When he saw his own country threatened by the forces of dictatorship, he had secretly offered his services to the CIA against the rebels. Soon afterward, the agency had approached him to become a counter-spy. "'I dared not relax my role as a spy for a moment,' Narco added. I even grabbed the chance to plant that cache of firearms in Latte's cellar to convince any rebel agents who might be watching me that I was on their side.

Tom, the rebels gave me the job of hijacking your space robot. But, going on the brief messages that the CIA was able to get through to me, I guessed that you were using it as bait. I guess we all owe you an apology, Tom said, and our thanks. We were lucky to have you on our side." He saved the lives of a number of loyalist prisoners, and gave the government forces some vital tip-offs of his own, Ames added. As Tom shook hands with Narco, the young Brungarian said warmly,

"'It is good to know that Tom Swift is my friend.' With a chuckle, Narco added, "'I know from experience that you certainly make a dangerous enemy.' As the others gathered around to speak to Samson Narco and add their friendly congratulations, Bud slapped Tom on the back. Well, Skipper, what's next on the schedule? For a moment, Tom did not reply. He too wondered where his next scientific adventure would lead him.

Finally, Tom turned to Bud. I'm not sure. But who knows what Space Secrets X-Man may have up his making? mechanical sleeve. The end of Tom Swift and the visitor from Planet X by Victor Appleton the second.