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Authors: Victor Appleton II
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single finger on the curving surface of the alien life capsule. "To think, to think—I am touching a piece of outer space."
"Yes, yes, wonderful and impressive," Faber said. "But now we must get to work."
The camera equipment was carted in and speedily assembled and tested. Tom was delighted to find that the spectronic rays appeared to penetrate the transparent capsule shell without diminution or distortion. "We’re in business!" he announced.
For three hours the scientists studied the microstructure of the remnants of life heaped inside the vessel. The exotic dripping spikes and mushroom-shaped plants had collapsed to a brownish rubble, and the queer creeping vegetative forms looked like rotted-out carrots. Yet the leptoscope images, carefully recorded, revealed the preserved traces of a cellular structure. "A nice surprise, this," remarked Dr. Glennon. "They contain something like plant cells, and within the cells something like a nucleus of complex, twisted molecular chains."
"Quite unlike the earth’s," added Anton Faber, "yet I know enough of these cellular matters to say that they are pleasantly familiar."
"Perhaps life has to take a somewhat similar form everywhere in the universe, by some basic principle," Tom mused in response. "And that’s good news. It gives us hope about curing the space disease—or at least containing its spread."
Their reserved time drawing to a close, they began to pack the equipment away. Leaving Bud in charge of this portion of the operation, Tom approached Gen. Jedreigh and spoke to him quietly. "Sir, I assume you also received word about my other request."
"Are you ready?" The general smiled at Tom. "Everything’s been set up in the Quiet Room, and the contact sequence has been input. Just press the button and start talking."
The man led Tom to a small, bare room, equipped only with a comfortable chair and a small table, upon which a plain boxlike console had been placed. A single red button was visible. Tom seated himself and, after Jedreigh had left the room, pressed it.
"I greet you, Tom Swift," said a deep, cultured voice. "Greetings from Brungaria!"
CHAPTER 9
BRUNGARIAN BACKGROUNDER
"HOW ARE you these days, Col. Mirov?" was Tom’s response to the familiar accented voice.
"Not bad, not bad," he replied. "We have a very efficient healthcare system in Brungaria, you know; which was wise enough to refer me to a convalescent facility in Berne, Switzerland. Beautiful view! And now I am quite recovered from my little spill up on New Brungaria—pardon me, Nestria." Tom could sense the older man’s eyes twinkling in mischievous good humor.
"That’s good to hear," Tom said politely.
"Yes, and good to say—but I doubt it is why you have called me here in Volkonis over the high-security link. After all, it is now perfectly legal, even recommended, for we Brungarians to be friendly to you Americans. I take it you have some serious business to discuss, eh?"
"I do, sir," confirmed the young inventor. "Mighty serious stuff affecting us both."
Col. Streffan Mirov had headed the Brungarian mission to the phantom satellite Nestria, a rather cutthroat race with the American expedition, headed by Tom Swift. Facing perils together on the moonlet, they had ended becoming, if not close friends, persons who deeply respected and valued one another.
"Tell me of this, then," Mirov encouraged.
Tom gave a sketchy account of the recent communications with the space beings. He refrained from mentioning the threat of the disease, but only said, "The space friends are landing a craft containing animal life somewhere on the moon, but they’ve felt forced to leave it for us to discover the exact location, because their signals have been intercepted by some of your countrymen. There are rumors that the secret Sentimentalists faction plans its own trip to the moon to seize the vessel."
Mirov grunted. "Mm, the Sentimentalists. Bad people, anti-democratic—I have learned to love democracy, you
"Yes, yes, wonderful and impressive," Faber said. "But now we must get to work."
The camera equipment was carted in and speedily assembled and tested. Tom was delighted to find that the spectronic rays appeared to penetrate the transparent capsule shell without diminution or distortion. "We’re in business!" he announced.
For three hours the scientists studied the microstructure of the remnants of life heaped inside the vessel. The exotic dripping spikes and mushroom-shaped plants had collapsed to a brownish rubble, and the queer creeping vegetative forms looked like rotted-out carrots. Yet the leptoscope images, carefully recorded, revealed the preserved traces of a cellular structure. "A nice surprise, this," remarked Dr. Glennon. "They contain something like plant cells, and within the cells something like a nucleus of complex, twisted molecular chains."
"Quite unlike the earth’s," added Anton Faber, "yet I know enough of these cellular matters to say that they are pleasantly familiar."
"Perhaps life has to take a somewhat similar form everywhere in the universe, by some basic principle," Tom mused in response. "And that’s good news. It gives us hope about curing the space disease—or at least containing its spread."
Their reserved time drawing to a close, they began to pack the equipment away. Leaving Bud in charge of this portion of the operation, Tom approached Gen. Jedreigh and spoke to him quietly. "Sir, I assume you also received word about my other request."
"Are you ready?" The general smiled at Tom. "Everything’s been set up in the Quiet Room, and the contact sequence has been input. Just press the button and start talking."
The man led Tom to a small, bare room, equipped only with a comfortable chair and a small table, upon which a plain boxlike console had been placed. A single red button was visible. Tom seated himself and, after Jedreigh had left the room, pressed it.
"I greet you, Tom Swift," said a deep, cultured voice. "Greetings from Brungaria!"
CHAPTER 9
BRUNGARIAN BACKGROUNDER
"HOW ARE you these days, Col. Mirov?" was Tom’s response to the familiar accented voice.
"Not bad, not bad," he replied. "We have a very efficient healthcare system in Brungaria, you know; which was wise enough to refer me to a convalescent facility in Berne, Switzerland. Beautiful view! And now I am quite recovered from my little spill up on New Brungaria—pardon me, Nestria." Tom could sense the older man’s eyes twinkling in mischievous good humor.
"That’s good to hear," Tom said politely.
"Yes, and good to say—but I doubt it is why you have called me here in Volkonis over the high-security link. After all, it is now perfectly legal, even recommended, for we Brungarians to be friendly to you Americans. I take it you have some serious business to discuss, eh?"
"I do, sir," confirmed the young inventor. "Mighty serious stuff affecting us both."
Col. Streffan Mirov had headed the Brungarian mission to the phantom satellite Nestria, a rather cutthroat race with the American expedition, headed by Tom Swift. Facing perils together on the moonlet, they had ended becoming, if not close friends, persons who deeply respected and valued one another.
"Tell me of this, then," Mirov encouraged.
Tom gave a sketchy account of the recent communications with the space beings. He refrained from mentioning the threat of the disease, but only said, "The space friends are landing a craft containing animal life somewhere on the moon, but they’ve felt forced to leave it for us to discover the exact location, because their signals have been intercepted by some of your countrymen. There are rumors that the secret Sentimentalists faction plans its own trip to the moon to seize the vessel."
Mirov grunted. "Mm, the Sentimentalists. Bad people, anti-democratic—I have learned to love democracy, you
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