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 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-pitched 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!"
"Hmmm." 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, Phyl, 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 Arv and Hank who are 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's 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 wry smile.
Again Tom frowned. "At any rate, Harlan, see if you can get a line on
that impostor."
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 Exman," 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 Exman to the bottom of the steps and
signaled simply: _Go up!_
Exman paused for a moment, then attempted the ascent. His caterpillar
tracks clawed their way up the first step. Then, gingerly, he essayed
the next. The robot body tilted, but its gyro kept it from toppling
over.
"Bravo!" Mr. Swift applauded encouragingly. But the next instant Exman
gave up! He slid back to the floor again with a heavy bump. Then he
began whirling and darting about madly.
"Good night! Exman's gone berserk!" Tom cried.
Now wafts 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 Exman
lunged toward him, antennas sparking fiercely and wheels 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 Exman 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.
[Illustration
(Tom Jr. and Tom Sr. watch as Exman tries to climb stairs)]
Mr. Swift nodded. "Yes, the whole thing was rather a noteworthy
reaction. I believe Exman was displaying 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 Ole Think Box is getting more human
all the time!"
Bud ventured to pat Exman on its "back." "Relax, kid," he said with a
chuckle. "You're among friends and 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 Exman 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 Exman 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 Swifts batted 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 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."
Bernt Ahlgren 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 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 Ahlgren broke in again abruptly.
"A news flash, Tom! The Walling range-finder plant has been demolished
by an earthquake!"