Tom Swift and The Visitor from Planet X | Page 9

you get a general picture," Tom said.
Ames and Dilling promised to do so, and the meeting broke up.
Feeling somewhat reassured now that a definite plan of action had been decided upon,
Tom resumed work on his sketches. Although both the problem and the solution were
still hazy in his mind, a few ideas began to take shape.
A radio antenna would certainly be needed, to receive or transmit signals at a distance.
And repelatron units would give the brain a way to exert force when it wanted to act.
These were devices which Tom had invented to produce a repulsion-force ray. He had
used the principle in both air and space flight.
A power plant might also be needed to generate additional energy in case the brain's own
energy was very small. Lastly, there would have to be a control system for use either by
the brain itself or by its human operators.
After an hour of work at top speed, Tom was rather pleased with one rough sketch. He
was mulling over the idea when Chow Winkler and Bud Barclay wandered into the office.
Both were impressed when Tom explained the sketch.
Chow stared at it, goggle-eyed at the thought of such a contraption "coming to life." "So
that's the Ole Think Box, eh?" he muttered.
Tom laughed. "Good name, Chow!"
All three were startled as a voice suddenly broke in over the wall intercom. It was the
operator on duty at the plant's communication center.

"Turn on your TV, skipper," the operator suggested. "We've just had a news bulletin that
an earthquake tremor has been felt over in Medfield. There's a big plant there that makes
rocket nose cones. A mobile TV crew's been rushed to the scene in a helicopter and
they're trying to pick up the action with a television camera."
"Good night! Another quake?" Bud gasped.
Tom had already rushed to the videophone. Flicking it on, he switched to a commercial
channel. Soon a picture appeared on the screen. It was a panoramic shot of a landscape,
evidently viewed from a hovering aircraft, with a large industrial plant just below.
A TV commentator's voice was reporting developments. "Few visible signs of a tremor,"
he said. "As you can see, the rocket-plant personnel and the people of Medfield are
making desperate attempts to evacuate. Fortunately, most of them have already left the
immediate area."
A few cars and trucks could still be seen speeding along the ribbonlike roads within view
of the hovering television camera.
"Oh--oh!" The commentator's voice broke in again. "Notice that tall stack just over the
plant--see how it's starting to tremble!... It's beginning to crumble!... This must be it!"
Suddenly the whole scene seemed to explode. Plant buildings collapsed like toy houses
built of cards, while at the same time huge rocks and trees were uprooted as a yawning
crack opened in the ground below.
The three watchers in Tom's office stared in horrified dismay. But a moment later the
picture on the TV screen became jerky and distorted, then faded out completely.
After a brief interval, a studio announcer came on. "The relay transmitter must have been
knocked out by the quake. We return you now to our regularly scheduled program, but
will keep you informed as bulletins come in."
"Great balls o' fire!" Chow gulped as Tom turned off the set. "I sure hope all o' those poor
folks in cars got away safe!"
Tom rushed to a wall shelf and pulled out a book on geology. He leafed quickly to a
section dealing with known earthquake faults and the distribution of quakes. When he
looked up at the others, his face was grim.
"What's wrong, skipper?" Bud asked tensely.
"That quake," Tom replied, "wasn't in a patterned zone any more than the Faber one
was!"
Chow's jaw dropped open in a comic look of dismay. "You mean this here ole earth we
live on is gettin' all busted up an' twisted around inside?"

"I wish I knew, Chow!" Tom paced worriedly about the office. "It just seems queer to me
that both of those quakes should have destroyed vital defense factories!"
On a sudden impulse, Tom snatched up the telephone. His two companions listened as he
put through a call to the FBI in Washington. Within moments, a friend at the Bureau,
Wes Norris, came on the line.
"Look, Wes," Tom said, "is there any chance this quake that just happened at Medfield
and the earlier one at Faber Electronics might have been caused by underground H-bomb
blasts?"
"As a matter of fact, we're checking on that very possibility," Norris replied. "In other
words, sabotage. Things are pretty hot around here since that news on Medfield came in,
so I can't talk much right now, Tom. But I can