Tom Swift and His Atomic Earth Blaster (11 page)

As Dr. Faber coughed loudly, and Daryl Blake turned away to hide a smile, Voorhees glared at Bud over the thinnest smile imaginable.

Two days later, the new-version blaster was ready to operate. The hour had arrived for the crucial test at Pine Hill.

The news that Tom Swift’s new invention would begin tunneling at nine o’clock that morning had been blazoned across the front page of the
Shopton Evening Bulletin
the night before. It had also been announced on all radio and television newscasts. As a result, the area around Pine Hill was so crowded with people that the police had to be called to hold back the spectators.

All three of the government scientists—Dr. Faber, Blake, and Voorhees—were on hand to watch the proceedings. Damon Swift, his business at the Citadel concluded, was also present, along with Hank Sterling, Uncle Jake, and Chow. Tom showed them a diagram of the proposed tunnel layout.

"The blaster will start from here," he explained, "proceeding at a downward slope of twenty degrees. Then the machine will level off and continue on a straight course to the center of the hill, where we’ll pause it and back it out due to safety limitations on the length of the power cables. Then we repeat the same operations on the other side of the hill, with the two tunnels joining in the middle."

Chow raised a timid hand. "Kin I ask a question, Tom?"

"Sure."

"If that there digger’s goin’ sideways instead o’ straight down, what keeps her movin’? You gonna push ’er along with a long poker, or somethin’?"

The young inventor pointed at the earth blaster, which was resting in its launch cradle next to the hillside. "See those big spiked wheels mounted above and below? Each one has a little motor inside, and the spikes will dig into the rock. We won’t be using it on our—on the next project."

"If you’re in a question-answering mood, I’ve got one too," declared Daryl Blake, gesturing toward several rows of big tubes neatly stacked for use. "What are they for?"

"As the blaster digs into the hill, those sections of tubing will be connected, one by one, to form a single, long, flexible tube," replied the young inventor. "The Tomasite tubing weighs very little, and the blaster will be able to pull the sections along behind it, each one snapping into place. The fumes and rock-dust will be blown out through it, into that receiving filter over there. Eventually a standard water conduit will be laid inside the tubing."

A handpicked crew of workers from Swift Enterprises was standing by, waiting for operations to begin. The blaster was now rolled forward with its electrode nose pressed against the hillside, several sections of tubing already hooked on.

About twenty yards from the blaster, on level ground, was Tom’s control shack, mounted on a movable dolly. The powerful generator and huge reel of power cables was positioned on a truck bed nearby.

Signaling for the workers to start the generator Tom walked to the shack and climbed inside. His heart was hammering with excitement. He knew that everything depended on the outcome of today’s test. Glancing at Bud, who was standing with the others and beaming proudly, Tom felt a stab of regret.
If only everything were all cleared up by now,
he told himself. Then he banished it from his mind.

Through the window of the control shack, Tom looked at the foreman of the work crew and received an "All Clear" signal in reply.

Taking a deep breath, Tom slammed on the activator switch, then pushed down a lever. Instantly the blaster crackled to life with a thunderous boom and a flash of blinding white light that settled down into a sunlike corona floating in front of the forward electrodes.

Tom activated the wheel motors and inched the machine forward. To the fanfare of a peculiar hissing-whistling roar the earth blaster plunged into the hillside through a halo of bright fire and black smoke!

Realizing that the long-needed tunnel was at last under way, the crowd broke into a wave of spontaneous cheers and applause. But the noise could scarcely be heard above the din of the blaster, which slowly diminished as it moved deeper into the earth and rock.

In a matter of seconds, the machine had burrowed twice its length into Pine Hill on a downward slant.

The power cables were slowly played out, and the plastic conduits dragged forward section by section.

One minute had passed; then three… five…

Suddenly a violent tremor rocked the hillside as a spray of fire, smoke, and rock blasted from the tunnel opening!

SCREAMS AND CRIES arose from the spectators as rocks and dirt pelted down on them. Tom’s shack was deluged by the debris and enveloped in thick smoke.

Tom, white-faced and shaken, killed all power to the earth blaster and leapt outside. Angry shouts greeted him on all sides.

"That crazy machine might have killed every one of us!" bellowed a fat, middle-aged man, wiping dirt and soot from his face.

And a woman screamed, "It’s a public danger! The police should arrest him!"

Gritting his teeth, Tom tried to ignore the roiling remarks. While Bud summoned an ambulance, he proceeded to give first aid to all who needed it, with the help of Dr. Faber and Daryl Blake. Fortunately, the injuries amounted to no more than slight cuts and bruises—and clothing badly in need of emergency laundering.

"What in the world happened, Tom?" asked his father.

"I don’t know," was the terse response.

After the victims had been taken care of, Tom turned to the sergeant in charge of the police detail. "Would you please have your men dear this area? I’d like to make a complete investigation of what happened before we continue."

"Before you
continue?"
exclaimed an outraged citizen.

"It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?" put in Voorhees. "Your blaster was improperly designed, just as I suspected all along. When it hit real bedrock, it couldn’t penetrate any farther. The result was a pressure blowback, naturally."

The police sergeant seemed impressed with this line of reasoning. But Tom shook his head. "I’m quite sure this incident was not the fault of the blaster."

"Meaning what?" Voorhees asked.

"Meaning someone set a contact bomb to ruin our work here, and perhaps blow me up at the same time!"

"Sounds like that guy Picken to me," commented Bud. "I saw one of his trucks parked up on a rise—great view!"

"Could be," Tom said in a low voice. "We’ll investigate all the possibilities just to play safe. But I think this job was planned by Bronich and Leeskol. By making the blaster look dangerous or defective, he may hope to have the government call off our South Pole expedition."

Anton Faber nodded thoughtfully. The gray-haired scientist and his two associates had already been told about Bronich’s activities.

"Look at this!" called out Hank Sterling. He was holding up a shard of blackened, twisted metal.

One of the police officers examined the piece closely as Tom and the others approached. "I recognize this from my Army training," the man declared. "It’s part of a bomb!"

"Brand my landmines, you sure called that one right, boss!" Chow exclaimed. "D’you reckon they’s more of ’em in that hill?"

Tom shrugged. "We don’t dare proceed until we know for certain."

"Tell you what," said Hank. "I’ll head back to the plant and bring over one of the portable tele-tecs. We can run it right off the generator." The tele-tec was an amazing Swift invention that allowed long-distance x-ray-type security sweeps.

Tom did not respond. "Tom?—is that okay?" Hank asked.

"Go ahead, Hank," said Mr. Swift.

Bud rested a hand on Tom’s shoulder. "You all right, skipper? Didn’t get beaned by a rock, did you?"

Tom abruptly backed away, turning toward the control cabin. "I’m okay, Bud."

For two hours Swift employees and members of the police bomb squad probed the prospective route of the blaster through Pine Hill. Nothing further was found. Meanwhile Tom had drawn back the blaster into the open air and examined it. He finally announced that it appeared to be unharmed.

"That’s a good sign, young man," commented Dr. Faber. "Your sturdy machine has passed its trial by fire, I would say."

Chow added, "Jest shows Tom Swift don’t know the meaning of shoddy merchandise!"

Bud turned to Harold Voorhees. "So what do you think,
Hal?
Do we have your approval to go ahead?"

Voorhees gave an eloquent shrug. "It’s not my decision to make."

"Well, I think the rest of us have a few things to say," grumbled a man in the watching crowd. "First his fool machine busts the water main, now this! Getting water sure ain’t a good enough reason to send folks to the hospital!"

Bud frowned fiercely and began to stalk toward the man. But before he had taken three steps, an amplified voice boomed out over the crowd.

"May I have your attention, everyone!"
It was Herb Greenup, who had borrowed a bullhorn from one of the policemen. "There’s something important I need to say!"

Tom moaned inwardly.
What now?

"I—I need to let you all know something about that water-main accident of the other day. I’m ashamed to say that—
I was responsible!"

The crowd gasped and muttered in stunned surprise.

"It’s true," continued Greenup, his pallid face streaked with perspiration, his voice sorrowful and wavering. "I posted an altered map on the Water Company’s website, knowing that it would lead Tom astray. I somehow convinced myself that I was acting in the best interests of our city, but I know now I was completely wrong. His digging machine is fine. But I—am not." He lowered the bullhorn and Liz rushed up and embraced him.

"Y’cain’t never tell what’s gonna happen next around these parts!" Chow gaped.

Tom walked up to Mr. Greenup and shook his hand warmly in full view of the public—a moment captured by the news cameras. "That confession took real courage, sir," Tom declared. "Thank you."

Ten minutes later the earth blaster had been reinserted in its tunnel. Once again it was activated, and this time it performed flawlessly. In the space of half an hour Tom was able to announce that it had reached its stopping point in the middle of Pine Hill.

The digger was pulled out again and trucked to the other side of the hill for the second half of the operation. As Tom’s monitoring instruments revealed that the machine was nearing the terminus of the other tunnel, the crowd—which now seemed to fill a square block—became tense and hushed.

"Half these people are afraid it’s going to set off another blast," whispered Daryl Blake to Bud Barclay.

"Yeah," Bud responded ruefully; "and the other half is afraid it
won’t!"

At that moment Tom appeared in the doorway of his control cab. "Everyone—
we’re there!
The tunnels are connected!" The crowd began to whoop and cheer.

A sealed floodgate, operated by remote control, prevented the reservoir water from prematurely flooding the tunnel, as it was necessary to first remove the earth blaster. But when this was accomplished, Tom allowed a small amount of water to gush through to the other side of the hill before sealing the tunnel again.

"There’s
a wonderful sight!" came the voice of Mrs. DiCorvo over Tom’s cellphone hookup. "Tom, Shopton’s got a great new drinking fountain, thanks to you and your invention!"

Her remarks relayed to the crowd over a loudspeaker, the frenzied cheering was redoubled. Chow Winkler, however, looked on sourly. He had not forgotten that only a short time before many of these same people had been calling his beloved young boss a public menace.

"This here world would be a great place," Chow muttered, "if’n it wasn’t fer the
people!"

Later in the week, as the date of departure for Antarctica drew near, Tom held a meeting in his shared private office with Blake, Faber, and Voorhees, to talk over final plans for the expedition. Mr. Swift was also present, as were Hank Sterling and Arvid Hanson.

"Shall we get started?" asked Damon Swift.

"Not yet," Tom said. "We’re not all here."

A moment later Bud Barclay hustled through the door.
"Now
we’re ready," Tom declared with a pointed look at his father.

"You realize, I hope," said Voorhees in a condescending voice, "that we
senior
scientists must take along a good deal of equipment. And as representatives of the Federal government, our things will have top priority over all other cargo. Now then, how will this equipment be transported?"

Tom exchanged an amused glance with Bud before answering. "I’m sure there’ll be ample cargo space on our planes, Mr. Voorhees. But I’m glad you brought up the matter. I suggest that you give me a complete list of your equipment as soon as possible, so we can start mapping out our stowage arrangements."

"Blake and I have our equipment all boxed and ready," Dr. Faber announced quietly. "Here is a list of everything we’re taking. I trust there will still be room for your atomic earth blaster?"

His gray eyes twinkled behind their thick-lensed spectacles. Tom grinned as he realized that this distinguished scientist considered Voorhees something of a stuffed shirt—just as he and Bud did!

"As you know, the Flying Lab will be our main transport. Since it already has compartments set up for your types of work, I believe you two may as well fly with me on the
Sky Queen,"
Tom told Faber and Blake. He also decided that Voorhees would ride with Bud Barclay on one of the jet cargo planes.

As the meeting continued, Bud wrote a note on a piece of paper that Tom alone could see.
You got a great sense of humor, pal!!

The young inventor smiled. "By the way, the cargo planes will be equipped with two sets of landing wheels. One will be the regular landing gear, and the other will be a special set of wheels armed with metal spikes for landing on ice. The planes will also carry ski runners for landing or taking off on snow."

"Have you figured out how many planes to take on the expedition?" asked Arv Hanson.

"Four altogether, I think. Besides the
Sky Queen
and Bud’s craft, there will be two more jet cargo planes. I’m putting Bud in charge of those, as well as his own ship." Tom avoided looking at his father.