by means of the megascope.
"Any time now," Tom pronounced quietly. "We’re getting good telemetry, not only from the rocket and the outpost, but even from Base Galileo. The antimatter cloud has really thinned out over the last couple hours."
Tom programmed the megascope antenna to maintain the sensor viewpoint close to the capsule, following it along. Presently Bud pointed out a flashing, flickering effect surrounding the hull like a halo and extending well forward.
"That’s the mag deflector’s field interacting with the outer edges of the barrier," explained Tom. "We’re right on the button, so far."
Suddenly the two observed the brilliant flash as the rocket pierced the denser part of the disintegration barrier.
"Looks like a hotter explosion than I was figuring on," Bud commented.
Tom nodded worriedly. "The rocket must have hit an area of denser material. It probably coheres in long streamers, like clingy cobwebs. Let’s hope the extra shielding can take the radiation."
"But at least it broke through," the black-haired copilot pointed out.
The megascope output abruptly faded away, and the screen went blank. "Far as our own signals can go," declared Tom. "Let’s head over to communications and find out what’s coming in through the big antenna." The boys drove to the communications center to await word of the results from the base crew on Nestria. When they arrived, the news was bad.
"We’ve lost all radio contact, Mr. Swift," Lee Jarrild, the communications expert on duty, reported. "Telemetry too. Everything just dropped out when the rocket hit the barrier."
Bud gulped. "Then—then maybe it didn’t get all the way through."
"No concession speeches just yet, flyboy!" Tom pronounced. He strode over to a console and plucked a small device from its cradle.
"Hey, a Private Ear Radio!" cheered Bud Barclay. "You mean you ― "
"Part of our precious cargo. Let’s give ’em a chance to open up the rocket. It’ll probably need some serious anti-rad decontamination, too."
The minutes fled, becoming an hour as Tom and Bud waited tensely for some word from the Nestria colonists. Had Tom’s invention opened a path for the test rocket? Had the capsule’s shielding proved adequate?
If not, the main hope of rescue would be dashed—and Nestria’s inhabitants would remain in captivity 50,000 miles from the earth, in straits that would soon become desperate!
CHAPTER 12
AFRICA LEAD
THE SHRILL beep of the PER came so abruptly, after such a long and dismal wait, that Tom and Bud almost fell from their chairs! "Th-this is Tom Swift!" gasped the young inventor into the unit’s inbuilt microphone as Bud leaned close to listen.
"It’s Kent Rockland, Tom." The base leader’s voice was harried and husky, but came through clear as a bell!
"Thank goodness! So the test missile must’ve made it all the way to the surface."
"Yes. She came down nice and slow. But... " His voice, coming sharply over the speaker, sounded somber. "The rocket landed—or what was left of it—but it was burnt to a frazzle."
As Bud mouthed Oh no!, Tom asked: "Supplies too, I suppose?"
"The edibles were all destroyed. Doc Simpson says the radiation was just too intense, even with all that shielding."
Tom bit his lip. "Kent, this is a tough break, but tell your gang not to give up. At least we know now that my magnetic deflector is strong enough to allow us to take a sample of the barrier material for study. We’ll lick this problem yet."
"We know you will, Skipper. All of us." Rockland added with a wry chuckle, "But make it soon, please. We’re on short rations, but our stomachs are wrapped around our backbones."
Bud commandeered the unit. "Where Chow’s concerned that must be quite a sight to see!"
" Chow’s right here, Buddy Boy! " came a faint foghorn bellow in the background. " I’m gonna have some words fer you when I get back! "
"Chow, I—I’m looking forward to it," Bud replied seriously.
When the call was ended,
"Any time now," Tom pronounced quietly. "We’re getting good telemetry, not only from the rocket and the outpost, but even from Base Galileo. The antimatter cloud has really thinned out over the last couple hours."
Tom programmed the megascope antenna to maintain the sensor viewpoint close to the capsule, following it along. Presently Bud pointed out a flashing, flickering effect surrounding the hull like a halo and extending well forward.
"That’s the mag deflector’s field interacting with the outer edges of the barrier," explained Tom. "We’re right on the button, so far."
Suddenly the two observed the brilliant flash as the rocket pierced the denser part of the disintegration barrier.
"Looks like a hotter explosion than I was figuring on," Bud commented.
Tom nodded worriedly. "The rocket must have hit an area of denser material. It probably coheres in long streamers, like clingy cobwebs. Let’s hope the extra shielding can take the radiation."
"But at least it broke through," the black-haired copilot pointed out.
The megascope output abruptly faded away, and the screen went blank. "Far as our own signals can go," declared Tom. "Let’s head over to communications and find out what’s coming in through the big antenna." The boys drove to the communications center to await word of the results from the base crew on Nestria. When they arrived, the news was bad.
"We’ve lost all radio contact, Mr. Swift," Lee Jarrild, the communications expert on duty, reported. "Telemetry too. Everything just dropped out when the rocket hit the barrier."
Bud gulped. "Then—then maybe it didn’t get all the way through."
"No concession speeches just yet, flyboy!" Tom pronounced. He strode over to a console and plucked a small device from its cradle.
"Hey, a Private Ear Radio!" cheered Bud Barclay. "You mean you ― "
"Part of our precious cargo. Let’s give ’em a chance to open up the rocket. It’ll probably need some serious anti-rad decontamination, too."
The minutes fled, becoming an hour as Tom and Bud waited tensely for some word from the Nestria colonists. Had Tom’s invention opened a path for the test rocket? Had the capsule’s shielding proved adequate?
If not, the main hope of rescue would be dashed—and Nestria’s inhabitants would remain in captivity 50,000 miles from the earth, in straits that would soon become desperate!
CHAPTER 12
AFRICA LEAD
THE SHRILL beep of the PER came so abruptly, after such a long and dismal wait, that Tom and Bud almost fell from their chairs! "Th-this is Tom Swift!" gasped the young inventor into the unit’s inbuilt microphone as Bud leaned close to listen.
"It’s Kent Rockland, Tom." The base leader’s voice was harried and husky, but came through clear as a bell!
"Thank goodness! So the test missile must’ve made it all the way to the surface."
"Yes. She came down nice and slow. But... " His voice, coming sharply over the speaker, sounded somber. "The rocket landed—or what was left of it—but it was burnt to a frazzle."
As Bud mouthed Oh no!, Tom asked: "Supplies too, I suppose?"
"The edibles were all destroyed. Doc Simpson says the radiation was just too intense, even with all that shielding."
Tom bit his lip. "Kent, this is a tough break, but tell your gang not to give up. At least we know now that my magnetic deflector is strong enough to allow us to take a sample of the barrier material for study. We’ll lick this problem yet."
"We know you will, Skipper. All of us." Rockland added with a wry chuckle, "But make it soon, please. We’re on short rations, but our stomachs are wrapped around our backbones."
Bud commandeered the unit. "Where Chow’s concerned that must be quite a sight to see!"
" Chow’s right here, Buddy Boy! " came a faint foghorn bellow in the background. " I’m gonna have some words fer you when I get back! "
"Chow, I—I’m looking forward to it," Bud replied seriously.
When the call was ended,
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