Tom Swift and His Diving Seacopter

THE TOM SWIFT INVENTION ADVENTURES

TOM SWIFT

AND HIS DIVING

SEACOPTER

BY VICTOR APPLETON II

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

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

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

TOM SWIFT surveyed the gathering crowd in the Shopton Astronomy Club meeting hall with excited eyes, knowing that the eyes of the crowd were gazing back with equal excitement mixed with curiosity. The usual contingent of twenty-odd monthly attendees had swollen fourfold in response to the announcement that Damon Swift and his famous son would be addressing the group "on a matter of great scientific interest," as the invitation had put it.

If they knew what this is about, you wouldn’t be able to fit the crowd in a football stadium!
thought Tom with an inward grin.

The club president introduced Tom’s father to warm applause. As Damon Swift approached the lectern microphone, a cameraman, supplied by the Swift Enterprises Office of Communications and Public Interest, pivoted his videocam, ready to immortalize the historic moments to follow. Seated in the first row, Ladeen Coverley, chief reporter for the
Shopton Evening Bulletin
, poised her pen over her notepad.

"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished visitors, fellow club members—you all know that my son and I have belonged to the Astronomy Club in a tradition going back to my grandfather’s time—" At the mention of Tom’s famous great-grandfather, the original Tom Swift, the meeting room again erupted in applause. "Because of this sentimental attachment, we wanted to make our announcement here, rather than issuing a statement to the world press in the usual manner." He paused dramatically. "We are here today to announce the confirmed discovery of extraterrestrial life!"

A roomful of jaws dropped floorward. But there was no sound save an intake of the room’s collective breath.

"And as startling as that announcement may be, what I am about to tell you is more startling yet." All the attendees leaned forward in their seats expectantly—except Ladeen Coverley, who adjusted her bifocals and leaned back. "Ladies and gentlemen, our discovery consists in
contact with a civilization of intelligent beings—ongoing contact that continues even as we speak!"

As anticipated, Mr. Swift’s calm declaration caused a sensation bordering on hysteria. There were gasps, shouts, and more than a little laughter. Chairs tumbled over on the tiled floor as several members of the audience rose to their feet. Skepticism competed with enthusiasm.

Mr. Swift motioned for Tom to join him at the lectern. "It’s no joke!" Tom insisted with a broad grin. "We’ve been in touch with scientists from another planet for months now!"

"Does this have something to do with that meteor?" a club member called out over the din.

The previous year a meteorlike object had flashed through the skies of Shopton, gouging deep into the earth within the grounds of Swift Enterprises, the research and invention installation presided over by Damon Swift. Shopton and the world had been given an abbreviated explanation of the nature of the object, one that neglected to mention that the object was clearly of intelligent design, purposefully directed to its destination and bearing a message from its creators.

As planned, Tom now took over the presentation. "The meteor was an artificial device, propelled to our world in some manner that we have yet to understand. We have only a very partial, incomplete grasp of the object’s structure and material composition. Nothing will penetrate its outer shell, including x-rays and gamma rays. We have no idea what sort of mechanism is inside it.

"But the important thing is what was on the outside," the young inventor continued. "The missile, if we can call it that, was covered in symbols representing universal mathematical concepts, which seem to stand for ideas that we can express in ordinary language. In time—"

"What do they want?" came a demanding voice. "Can we trust them?"

Tom frowned. "I’m sure they wonder if
they
can trust
us—
and with good reason."

"We call them our Space Friends," added Mr. Swift reassuringly. "There is every indication that they are friendly and nonviolent, motivated by scientific curiosity."

"Where exactly do they come from?" asked Ladeen Coverley.

"We believe they have a scientific station of some kind in orbit around the planet Mars," Tom answered. "We presume their home planet is somewhere else, probably in another solar system, but we really don’t know."

Christine Eggleman, the club recording secretary, called out from the back of the room, "Did you say
Mars?
Is this another one of those Tom Swift life-on-Mars claims?"

Decades before, Tom’s great-grandfather had endangered his public reputation by claiming to have observed signs of Martian civilization through his extraordinary giant telescope, under phenomenal atmospheric conditions that had never recurred. The world press had treated the unprovable claims as a scandal.

"That is precisely why I withheld making this announcement to the world," said Mr. Swift with quiet dignity. "Until recently it remained possible that we were victims of an elaborate hoax, perhaps orchestrated by a foreign power seeking to discredit American scientific methods. But after making a thorough review of the data, we think all rational doubt can now be excluded."

A young boy rose to his feet in the crowd. "What do they look like, Tom? Like us, or like—
aliens?"

Tom laughed. "Well, Jase, they really
are
aliens, you know. But we don’t know anything about their appearance. They don’t seem to grasp the concept of visual images in the way we do, and they haven’t yet succeeded in telling us much about their biology. We do know that they have some sort of difficulty surviving in our surface environment."

"That’s a relief!"
muttered a woman, provoking chuckles in the crowd.

Tom and Mr. Swift went on to explain how their communication with the space friends had developed over the ensuing months, to the point where they had learned to exchange brief messages by radio, using a special video-oscillograph device—essentially an imaging oscilloscope—connected to the experimental magnifying antenna on the Enterprises grounds. The beings had demonstrated their nonhostile nature on more than one occasion, warning Tom about a deadly space phenomenon during his first orbital flight.

Ladeen Coverley waved a hand in the air and asked, "Do they have their own rockets, or flying saucers, or whatever? Can’t they come to Earth themselves?"

"We think they have space transport vehicles of some sort," replied Mr. Swift.

"I saw something myself," Tom continued, "just recently, during the construction of the outpost in space. But it wasn’t a rocket, as we have; it didn’t even seem to be a solid object. Dad and I think they planned to meet up with us at the space station, but it didn’t happen—something went wrong, which they are unable to explain to us."

Mr. Swift said, "You all have to realize, these are not just people from a foreign culture, or even another species—but products of an entirely different
biology.
It’s a miracle that we’ve been able to break through the conceptual barrier to even a small extent."

At this point in the presentation, Tom and his father had planned to illustrate the lecture by projecting some of the symbolic messages that they had translated on the big video screen at the front of the hall, which they had plugged directly into the laptop computer that held the "space dictionary" of translated symbols. But Tom’s brow furrowed as he worked the keyboard, and the screen remained blank.

"What’s wrong, son?" asked Mr. Swift in a low voice.

"I don’t know," said Tom. A moment later he looked up and said, "Dad, the hard drive reads blank."

"Blank?
Are you sure?"

"I sure am. And the backup datadisk is also empty!"

As the audience commenced to murmur, Tom said, "We’re having some technical problems, folks. But we’ll be releasing samples of the messages to the press."

"Make sure the
Bulletin
gets one," demanded Ladeen Coverley in curt tones.

After answering a few more questions, Tom and Mr. Swift drew the meeting to a close, explaining that George Dilling at the Enterprises plant would be available to respond to further inquiries, and that a detailed report was being transmitted to scientific journals the world over, as well as to the United States government. Then they left quickly with the rest of the Swift family, followed by several personal friends who had been invited to join the audience.

"I think I should get a medal, keeping this a secret for all these months," commented Sandy Swift, Tom’s sister, as they took the elevator down to the parking garage.

"And from
me!"
added Bashalli Prandit, her friend and Tom’s frequent date. "It must have been
torture
for you, Sandra, withholding such news from your closest friend!"

"We practically had to sew her lips together." The voice was that of dark-haired Bud Barclay, Tom’s best pal and personal pilot.

"You were very stoic, dear," Tom’s mother said to Sandy. "I’m proud of you."

Tom smiled faintly but did not comment.

"Tom, what’s wrong?" asked his sister.

Mr. Swift responded for his son. "I’m afraid Tom has the same thing on his mind as I do—the space dictionary code."

"It’s been stolen!" murmured Tom in quiet dismay. "I feel it."

"That’s impossible!" exclaimed his father, "How could such a thing happen? The space dictionary files were in the computer only yesterday, when we prepared at Enterprises for the presentation."

"Why would anybody want to fool around with those space-symbol files, anyway?" Bud asked as the elevator doors opened. The powerfully-built eighteen-year-old pilot grinned. "Webster’s dictionary is tough enough for me!"

Ordinarily Tom would have smiled, but now he was very serious. "Bud," said the blond-haired youth, "this may be a matter of life and death!"

BUD REACTED with astonished apology. "Good night! I didn’t realize that. Don’t forget, I just flew in from Frisco this morning."

"Okay," Tom said with a wry smile. He waited until all had entered the large Swift automobile, which was sealed against external listening devices, before continuing. "This is the story. Our mysterious space friends are planning to send us a rocket with planetary life aboard."

"What!"

"Yes. And any time now. We’re waiting for a message telling us the crucial details, including when they propose to land it at Enterprises. Then we’re to tell them if the arrival time will give us long enough to prepare. That’s why we need the space dictionary so desperately."

Sandy leaned forward. "Isn’t it exciting? A rocket from another planet!"

"And this time we
all
know about it!" observed Bashalli with an ironic smile.

Bud gulped. "Jetz!—exciting isn’t the word for it! If someone else on Earth should send phony signals to these space people, they might drop the rocket in the wrong place!"

"Exactly," said Tom as Mr. Swift drove out into the bright Shopton sunlight. "That’s why I said
‘life and death’
."

"But Thomas, answer me this," Bashalli interrupted. "Did you not say that these space people couldn’t live here on our planet?"

Tom nodded and explained that the vessel would not contain any higher forms of life, and would be remotely guided to Earth by some unknown means. The mysterious beings had indicated that they were launching the craft in order to send the Swifts a sample of the basic biological structure and organic composition prevalent on their home planet. In turn, the two inventors were to relay instructions about how the friendly planeteers might survive Earth’s surface environment. Then they would visit this planet. But with the space dictionary gone, however, the entire project might take a different twist with disastrous results.

"It’s not so much that we’re missing the files themselves," Mr. Swift explained. "This was only a convenient compilation, which can be re-created. The main concern is that the code may be in the hands of someone whose motives are unknown."

"I see," Bashalli said. "Wicked foreigners in touch with super-spacemen. Just saying the words makes me nervous!"

Bud gave a low whistle. "Have you any hunch who might have done it?"

In the front seat Tom and his father exchanged troubled glances before the younger inventor replied. "The last outsider in our office was Munson Wickliffe."

"But he’s a topnotch scientist himself!" Bud pointed out. "He wouldn’t stoop to such a thing."

"That’s just it." Tom frowned. "He’s a man with a fine reputation in research. I just can’t believe he would get involved in scientific theft!"

Munson Wickliffe presided over a well-equipped laboratory complex in the nearby town of Thessaly, where he kept a corps of eager young scientists working around the clock. He was affluent, and had earned a national reputation beyond reproach.