what?" he added with a chuckle. "You’ve tied up automobile traffic for miles around! People are parked on all the roads, looking up at you."
Tom grinned. "We’ll give ’em another show in a minute."
Assured that all parts of the plane were functioning smoothly, he phased down the jet lifters and applied the forward thrust. The Sky Queen accelerated smoothly, and Tom was pleased to note that his aeolivanes were functioning as predicted. As Bud watched the air-speed indicator he gasped. In a matter of seconds, it seemed, the Flying Lab was cutting through the air at a thousand miles an hour.
"Great day!" he cried. "You could get around the world before sunset!"
"Better throttle back, Tom," Rip advised. "This is only a test."
"Right. I want to take her up higher, anyway."
To the spectators below, the big plane suddenly looked like a meteor in reverse. The lifters accelerated the Flying Lab so fast that it was out of sight in twenty seconds.
"S-stop—stop!" Chow shouted from the galley. "Brand my dogies, I don’t have enough food fer a trip to Mars!"
"Then we’ll stop off at the moon for supplies," Bud answered, giddy with excitement.
The plane’s altimeter stopped at sixty thousand feet as Tom once again allowed the Sky Queen to hover. Not only Shopton but the clouds above Shopton had been left far below them. Even Lake Carlopa looked like a small, silver-blue crescent glinting in the morning sun, while around them in all directions was an indigo sky dotted with stars.
Abruptly a warning from Bud broke the reverie.
"Tom, we’ve got a problem!"
"What sort of problem?"
"There’s smoke on the Lab’s special runway. Hank thinks some of the ceramic bricks are on fire—whole sections of them!"
Tom couldn’t believe his ears. "On fire? Bud, those bricks were made to take a temperature of—"
"I’m just tellin’ ya what I hear, genius boy," Bud retorted.
As it happened, the fire below was not the only difficulty. The Sky Queen was beginning to noticeably list to one side, and was starting to lose altitude as well. Tom knew after a quick glance at the instrument panel that they were in trouble.
"What’s the matter?" came Mr. Swift’s anxious voice from the laboratory.
"I’ve burned out half the jet lifters," his son answered solemnly. "I guess the metal they’re made of couldn’t take that terrific heat."
Instantly he began shifting from the lifters, resuming horizontal flight.
"I’d better take her down immediately," he said. "No telling what other effects it may have had."
"Yes. Don’t take any unnecessary chances," Mr. Swift said, adding, "Everyone fasten your safety belt."
Rip was frowning. "Is your runway long enough to land this big ship under horizontal power?" he asked, plainly worried.
"It wasn’t designed to handle anything this big," Tom replied, "but—"
He quickly gave Bud a message to relay to Hank:
"Clear the field and prepare for an emergency landing. Jet lifters conked out. We’re landing the hard way."
Mr. Swift came from the laboratory to watch operations. "Can you make it, Tom?"
"I hope so, Dad, but I may have to improvise a little." Tom gave his father and the others a reassuring glance. "Don’t worry, folks."
Everyone sat tensely while he guided the great aircraft downward in tremendous sweeps, like steps on a spiral staircase. As he turned into the traffic pattern of the Enterprises field, the airstrip looked frighteningly small. When the plane banked into the groove, Tom angled the nose of the ship sharply upward and briefly fired the remaining jet lifters, which acted against the direction of flight.
"Smart move," muttered Rip Hulse.
Bringing down the nose of the craft once again, Tom lowered the landing wheels and braking flaps. He then cut the forward thrust. The wheels touched the ground and the giant craft hurtled along the runway, brakes howling.
Could he stop it in time to avoid a disastrous crack-up? Tom wondered.
CHAPTER 13
CALLED TO
Tom grinned. "We’ll give ’em another show in a minute."
Assured that all parts of the plane were functioning smoothly, he phased down the jet lifters and applied the forward thrust. The Sky Queen accelerated smoothly, and Tom was pleased to note that his aeolivanes were functioning as predicted. As Bud watched the air-speed indicator he gasped. In a matter of seconds, it seemed, the Flying Lab was cutting through the air at a thousand miles an hour.
"Great day!" he cried. "You could get around the world before sunset!"
"Better throttle back, Tom," Rip advised. "This is only a test."
"Right. I want to take her up higher, anyway."
To the spectators below, the big plane suddenly looked like a meteor in reverse. The lifters accelerated the Flying Lab so fast that it was out of sight in twenty seconds.
"S-stop—stop!" Chow shouted from the galley. "Brand my dogies, I don’t have enough food fer a trip to Mars!"
"Then we’ll stop off at the moon for supplies," Bud answered, giddy with excitement.
The plane’s altimeter stopped at sixty thousand feet as Tom once again allowed the Sky Queen to hover. Not only Shopton but the clouds above Shopton had been left far below them. Even Lake Carlopa looked like a small, silver-blue crescent glinting in the morning sun, while around them in all directions was an indigo sky dotted with stars.
Abruptly a warning from Bud broke the reverie.
"Tom, we’ve got a problem!"
"What sort of problem?"
"There’s smoke on the Lab’s special runway. Hank thinks some of the ceramic bricks are on fire—whole sections of them!"
Tom couldn’t believe his ears. "On fire? Bud, those bricks were made to take a temperature of—"
"I’m just tellin’ ya what I hear, genius boy," Bud retorted.
As it happened, the fire below was not the only difficulty. The Sky Queen was beginning to noticeably list to one side, and was starting to lose altitude as well. Tom knew after a quick glance at the instrument panel that they were in trouble.
"What’s the matter?" came Mr. Swift’s anxious voice from the laboratory.
"I’ve burned out half the jet lifters," his son answered solemnly. "I guess the metal they’re made of couldn’t take that terrific heat."
Instantly he began shifting from the lifters, resuming horizontal flight.
"I’d better take her down immediately," he said. "No telling what other effects it may have had."
"Yes. Don’t take any unnecessary chances," Mr. Swift said, adding, "Everyone fasten your safety belt."
Rip was frowning. "Is your runway long enough to land this big ship under horizontal power?" he asked, plainly worried.
"It wasn’t designed to handle anything this big," Tom replied, "but—"
He quickly gave Bud a message to relay to Hank:
"Clear the field and prepare for an emergency landing. Jet lifters conked out. We’re landing the hard way."
Mr. Swift came from the laboratory to watch operations. "Can you make it, Tom?"
"I hope so, Dad, but I may have to improvise a little." Tom gave his father and the others a reassuring glance. "Don’t worry, folks."
Everyone sat tensely while he guided the great aircraft downward in tremendous sweeps, like steps on a spiral staircase. As he turned into the traffic pattern of the Enterprises field, the airstrip looked frighteningly small. When the plane banked into the groove, Tom angled the nose of the ship sharply upward and briefly fired the remaining jet lifters, which acted against the direction of flight.
"Smart move," muttered Rip Hulse.
Bringing down the nose of the craft once again, Tom lowered the landing wheels and braking flaps. He then cut the forward thrust. The wheels touched the ground and the giant craft hurtled along the runway, brakes howling.
Could he stop it in time to avoid a disastrous crack-up? Tom wondered.
CHAPTER 13
CALLED TO
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