Tom Swift in the Caves of Nuclear Fire (13 page)

Miss Wootenscarp scanned the explorers’ camp. She marveled at the
Sky Queen
and at Terry. "You have quite an operation here. My word! I don’t suppose I might catch a ride with you?—to America would be quite satisfactory."

"I’m afraid not," Tom answered.

"Yes, well, very good then. In that case I’ll be shoving off," she said. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and was soon lost among the trees.

Tom went to change his shirt. When he returned, Bud said, "Maybe the heat has got me, Tom, and I know you already think I’m too suspicious, but—"

"Frankly," admitted Tom, "I feel the same way. Her story sounded fishy to me. I can’t imagine anybody going on an African hunt without a guide."

Craig concurred. "And her rifle! It was an old Model 270. That’s a poor choice of caliber for brush country."

"Seems like t’me she ’as jest play-acting," was Chow’s comment. He had come out of the Flying Lab after the shooting had ceased. "That there phony ‘pip-pip’ accent o’ hers—brand my silver spurs, ain’t nobody who really talks like
that!"

The young scientist instructed Sterling and the other men not to give out any information concerning their expedition if the stranger should return. Then the journey in the terrasphere tank to Goaba, the sacred mountain, was finally begun.

With the route flattened, Tom made the trip in record time, arriving well before noon. Craig and Bud aided him in placing a few of the containers he had brought next to the crevice. Then they returned to the air-conditioned passenger cabin.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Tom advised, picking up a science magazine. "It might be a long wait. But we’d better keep on our antiradiation gear, except the helmets."

"You’re pretty sure the Inertite coating you sprayed on Terry will do the trick," remarked Craig.

"Pretty
sure," Tom grinned. "But you’ll notice I’ve parked well away from the crevice!"

They lunched comfortably, waiting for the signal from the containers to announce the presence of the gas. Tom glanced at his elaborate wristwatch, a gift from Bud. "One eighteen," Tom announced. "I’m predicting we’ll get the signal in about six minutes."

"How’d you figure that, Sci-Fi?" asked Craig.

"Let’s see if it happens," Tom answered. "Then I’ll tell you."

The six minutes passed—seven—and the buzzer in the cabin remained silent. "Oh well, it was just a guess," commented Tom, disappointed. "I’ll explain what I—"

The buzzer buzzed loudly!

"Thar she blows!" cheered Bud.

Three pairs of binoculars were trained on the crevice, which was about 200 feet distant. The small containers could be seen resting placidly in the bright midday sunshine.

"Keep your eye on the one marked in red," Tom advised. "I gave it only a thin coat of the Inertite paint."

Even as he spoke, the container indicated began to glow with a strange fire, visible even in the glare of the sun. A weird yellowish steam seemed to rise from it. Then, in an instant, it began to melt down in a shower of sparks, until only a shapeless lump of blackened metal was left.

"But it didn’t disappear completely!" exulted Tom. "So even a thin layer of paint provides a degree of protection."

"And the other containers aren’t affected at all," noted Craig. "Looks like we’re in business!"

"But how did you know when the gas would be released, skipper?" Bud inquired.

Tom leaned back happily in his padded chair. "I looked at the data we had on the times of the eruptions, and realized a pattern was starting to emerge. The eruptions were taking place twice a day, at equal intervals. So what is it that happens twice a day like that, rain or shine?"

"What?" asked Bud.

"The tides!"

"But Tom, we’re nowhere near a body of water out here," Craig objected.

Tom explained his theory that the underground source of the antiproton gas was linked to a subterranean channel, or series of channels, that ultimately led to the Atlantic Ocean hundreds of miles distant. "At high tide, a wash of water floods into the channels and eventually reaches the mountain—about forty minutes later, it arrives. The seawater starts a chain reaction that leads to the production of the gas."

"Then that crack in the side of the mountain must lead down into the ground, maybe to some big cave or pit," Bud mused, looking out the window.

"Probably a system of interlinked caves," Tom declared. "Like a volcano—but instead of molten rock, these are caves of nuclear fire!" He rose to his feet excitedly. "And I’m determined to explore them!"

THE AUTOMATIC stopper mechanisms on the specimen containers also allowed Tom to remotely monitor the presence of the deadly gas. After the better part of an hour, the young inventor pronounced it safe to leave the tank, though all three were to wear Inertite-coated suits and helmets.

They slowly approached the crevice and found that all the protected canisters were unharmed and sealed. "Finally!" Tom exclaimed. "Now I can study the gas with the Flying Lab’s equipment."

After stowing the containers in a special shielded locker, the travelers removed the small mechanical earth blaster from the terrasphere cradle, where it had been lashed down for the trip. Though the torpedo-shaped device was only four feet in length, it was quite heavy. Even though Tom had driven the tank to the very base of the slope containing the crevice, lugging the blaster up the incline had all of them perspiring freely.

"Man!" Bud complained. "These labor-saving devices sure require a lot of labor!"

Finally the three withdrew to a safe distance and Tom activated the machine. A deep roar soared in pitch to a shrill whine, and then became inaudible. Feeding power to the blaster’s wheels, Tom watched excitedly as it tipped nose-down and bored into the rock immediately next to the lip of the crevice, heading downward at a sharp angle.

Minutes passed. Suddenly the rock beneath their feet began to vibrate! Tom immediately shut off the blaster’s rock-pulverizing mechanism and reversed the traction-wheels, backing the machine up and out of the clean hole it had created.

"Look at that!" Craig exclaimed. The digging vanes had dissolved away, leaving only a nub behind!

"Didn’t you coat them with Inertite, Tom?" Bud inquired.

The young inventor ruefully slapped his forehead—a symbolic move, as his transparent helmet was in the way—and groaned, "Sure I did, but I forgot that the thrusting action would rub the coating right off!"

Bud asked his friend if there was a way around the problem.

"Eventually, of course, we can bring the big atomic model here and melt our way through," Tom replied. "As for now… " He thought deeply for a moment, then walked over to the hole the blaster had dug, peering down.

"See anything?" asked Craig.

"I think the blaster might have broken through to something. I’ll bet it’s an underground pocket of the gas, which is what disintegrated the vanes." He looked up, suddenly enthused. "Guys, we could use explosives to widen the hole enough to lower the descent sphere into it!"

Bud boggled. "Hey, it’s not like I don’t like blowing things up, but do we even
have
explosives?"

Tom mimed snapping his fingers. "I can make some."

"I should have known!" said Bud.

They carried the ruined earth blaster back to Terry, where Tom labored in the shade of the big vehicle to disassemble the blaster and remove the set of solar batteries that fed it power. He drained several different chemicals from the battery cells into some extra specimen containers, then carefully measured some of the fluids into a transparent flask.

As Bud and Craig looked on nervously, the liquid mixtures began to bubble and fizz violently, and the fluid turned milky white. After two minutes most of the liquid had boiled away, leaving only a small mound of yellowish crystals at the bottom of the flask, which Tom sealed firmly.

"How long before it blows up, chief?" asked Craig with a worried frown.

"Oh, it’s perfectly stable by itself," the young inventor replied. "But listen to my plan, guys. We know the rock below must be densely laced with veins of Inertite—or it wouldn’t be here in the first place. Now these acidic crystals will react with Inertite, in effect dissolving it. And it’s my scientific guess that reducing or adulterating the Inertite will cause the solid rock to crumble under its own weight, creating an opening into the caves beneath!"

"Okay, pal, but you’re surely not planning to sprinkle that stuff around by hand, are you?" cautioned Bud.

Tom smiled and said: "Watch!" Using some adjustable clamps and rods from Terry’s tool locker, Tom constructed a simple tripod framework which he positioned very precisely over the hole dug by the earth blaster. Then he hung the flask of crystals from the peak of the tripod at the end of a smooth, slim cord, leaving the flask suspended neatly over the center of the hole. He then slowly played out the cord, walking backwards, until he reach the terrasphere tank, where he tied it to part of the locking mechanism on the cradle for the descent sphere.

"Man, I get it!" said Craig admiringly. "When you flip open that locking clamp, the cord will slip free—"

"—and the flask will drop down into the hole," Bud finished.

"That’s the idea," Tom confirmed. "The fall looks like a good fifty feet. I’m sure the flask will shatter and spread the powder into the air. That should be sufficient to get the reaction going."

The expeditioners withdrew into the safety of the tank. Tom climbed into the control turret, watching intently through the observation dome as he flicked the switch that would release the cord.

"There goes the flask!" Tom intercommed excitedly. "Shouldn’t take more than a few seconds for—"

But Tom’s prediction was shown to be wrong before it had even escaped his lips, for at that moment twin tongues of blinding white flame came roaring up through the blaster’s tunnel and the mountainside crevice. A walloping thunderclap accompanied the eruption.

"Oops!"
murmured Bud. "I don’t think this is what genius boy had in mind!"

The ground beneath the tank vibrated like a struck bell—vibrations which increased rapidly to earthquake scale!

"Hang on!" Tom intercommed from the control dome. "We’ve got to get out of here!" He gunned the engines and the tread-rings began to rotate. But even as the vehicle began to crawl forward, Tom, Bud, and Craig gasped in shock as the entire side of the taboo mountain fell away, collapsing into the bowels of the earth all around the crevice!

The edge of the black opening rolled toward them like a hungry thing as more and more rock fell away. One second more and the hard ground beneath the struggling tank also collapsed, and Terry began to slide helplessly down a steep, rocky incline.

In the turret Tom tried to steady himself with his left hand while his right hand leapt over the controls. He knew that Terry’s powerful supergyro would keep the platform from flipping over. But if the sides of the chasm were to fall in on them, there would be no chance of survival.

Suddenly they were swept into darkness. The broadening gouge had become a steep-slanting tunnel carrying them helplessly forward into the earth.

The metal shell of the tank rang with the impact of rocks of all sizes and shapes, from pebbles to car-sized rolling boulders, and the air was thick with black dust.

The wild slide seemed to last a long time. But at last Terry clanged to an abrupt stop, wedged sideways between the rock walls of the channel.

"How’s everyone doing?" came Tom’s panting voice over the intercom.

"A few bruises," replied Craig. "Otherwise, not so bad."

"Skipper, what happened?" Bud asked in a weak voice.

There was a long pause. Then Tom slowly replied, "I guess we can call it an unexpected experimental result. The crystals I made didn’t just interact with the Inertite in the rock, but with residual traces of the antiproton gas itself. And when proton meets antiproton—!"

"Yeah," said Craig. "And here we are."

After a few minutes, Tom decided it was safe to exit the control turret and cross the platform into the passenger cabin.

"How badly are we damaged?" Bud asked fearfully.

"Not badly at all," said Tom, "according to the instruments and what I was able to see. Remember, this
spelunker-clunker
is designed for dealing with rocks and rough spots."

"Then she must feel right at home," commented Craig sourly. "Can we climb back up the slope to the surface?—with or without the tank!"

"I’m fairly sure we can turn Terry around and work our way back up," responded the young inventor.

Bud saw the gleam in his pal’s eyes and said, "But that’s not what we’re gonna do, is it."

"Oh, we will."

"But not now?"

Tom shook his head, and his voice was alive with excitement. "Nope! Not just yet. Haven’t you two taken a look outside? There’s a whole new phenomenon for us to look into—and we’ve got hours to do it!"

"HOURS TO do it, huh," said Craig Benson skeptically. "You mean, hours before the antiproton gas comes rolling up the shaft and disintegrates us."

"Relax," Tom said calmly. "We’ve already proven that the Inertite coating is enough to protect us from the gas. I’d prefer to be above ground before the next eruption, but it isn’t essential."

"You’re the man in charge, Tom," said Bud pointedly, and Craig nodded in compliance. "But what’s the ‘whole new phenomenon’ you mentioned?"

"Phosphorescence," replied the young inventor. "The rock walls are glowing! It’s very faint, but you can see it—and I want to know what’s causing it."

After the three circled the vehicle with flashlamps, Tom was satisfied that he could free the tank from the mound of displaced rock that had jammed it against the jutting cave wall. Returning to the turret he threw the treads into reverse, simultaneously shifting the axis orientation of the inner rings so that the treads would bite into the walls. The mechanism proved its worth. In minutes the mobile platform was free to move.