Read Online Tom Swift on the Phantom Satellite by Victor Appleton II - Free Book Online
Authors: Victor Appleton II
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movement against the blackness of space caught his eye. A thin cable, painted a brilliant green, snaked out from the direction of the outpost like a striking serpent! As the end streaked past, Tom grabbed the line. A moment later it snapped taut.
"Nice shooting, guys!" Tom radioed, relief in his voice.
"You didn’t forget about our pressurized rescue lines, did you?" joked one of the men.
"After all, you invented it!" added Ken Horton.
Tom used the rigid line to propel himself back to the vicinity of the Titan, his arm around Bud, who was beginning to stir and groan.
Kent said, "I thought you were goners!"
"Of course, any of us could have jetted over to pull them back," noted Ken Horton evenly. "Even you, Rockland. You were nearest."
The metallurgist looked abashed. "I—I know. Guess I froze up for a second."
"No harm done, Kent," Bud muttered woozily, conscious again, but aching where the back of his head had snapped against his helmet.
"Better knock off for a while and catch your breath," Horton suggested to the trio from the ship.
"No time for that," said Tom urgently. "We must hurry."
At last the repair and inspection was completed. Tom and Ken Horton exchanged a warm spacesuited handclasp.
"Sure sorry you aren’t coming with us, Ken!"
The space veteran laughed. "Next time, boss. Maybe I’ll come visit you on Little Luna—once the volleyball courts are set up!"
The members of the expeditionary force now reboarded the Titan . At the last moment, a crewman from the space outpost came floating through the connecting passage bearing a large, pressurized case.
"For Dr. Wohl," he explained tersely, handing the case to Bud, who looked at it curiously. "What is it?" Bud asked, but when he glanced up the crewman had already departed.
Bud brought the case aboard and handed it to Violet Wohl, who expressed pleasure and carefully unsealed it in front of the other crew members. The case proved to contain a cage full of white rats!
Chow’s face wore a doubtful expression. "Brand my gyro, ma’am, what’re you doin’ with them varmints?"
Dr. Wohl, carefully strapping the case to her own bunk, replied with mild indignation, "These are valuable cargo, Chow. They’ve been raised in low gravity on a special diet, and I’m taking them along for research experiments on the satellite. I don’t want to risk having them injured before we even get there."
"Wa-al," responded the range hand, "if’n they get loose in here, we’re gonna wish we’d brought along a few space cats."
Dr. Wohl stood tall and looked Chow in the eye. "They won’t get loose. But if anything happens to these little guests of mine, you’ll find that I can be worse than a wet space tiger! Is that clear?"
"Yes sir, ma’am!" gulped the chef. But as he slunk meekly away, he snorted under his breath, "Huh! First time I ever heard o’ treatin’ those thievin’ calamoots so good!"
Smiling, Tom ordered everyone to buckle his safety harness. Then he accessed the flight computer which would control their revised course to the satellite, and radioed farewell to the space outpost.
"Here goes!" he cried as the countdown ended.
The main thruster roared, and the Titan responded instantly. But instead of a gradual, steady acceleration, the ship hurled itself into space as if struck by a home-run batter! The force of the acceleration was more powerful than the crew had expected, and they were all jolted backwards into their cushioned seats, violently.
Hank Sterling choked out a lungful of air, as if he had been slugged in the stomach, and Col. Northrup, who sat next to him, remarked through clenched teeth, "This is nothing, my friend. On the shuttle we had to take more than—"
The next instant the cabin resounded with a sharp crack like a pistol shot! The acceleration seat occupied by Henrick Jatczak flipped backward, hurling the elderly scientist to the deck!
"Tom!" yelled Gabriel Knorff, struggling with the sudden pressures of acceleration. "The
"Nice shooting, guys!" Tom radioed, relief in his voice.
"You didn’t forget about our pressurized rescue lines, did you?" joked one of the men.
"After all, you invented it!" added Ken Horton.
Tom used the rigid line to propel himself back to the vicinity of the Titan, his arm around Bud, who was beginning to stir and groan.
Kent said, "I thought you were goners!"
"Of course, any of us could have jetted over to pull them back," noted Ken Horton evenly. "Even you, Rockland. You were nearest."
The metallurgist looked abashed. "I—I know. Guess I froze up for a second."
"No harm done, Kent," Bud muttered woozily, conscious again, but aching where the back of his head had snapped against his helmet.
"Better knock off for a while and catch your breath," Horton suggested to the trio from the ship.
"No time for that," said Tom urgently. "We must hurry."
At last the repair and inspection was completed. Tom and Ken Horton exchanged a warm spacesuited handclasp.
"Sure sorry you aren’t coming with us, Ken!"
The space veteran laughed. "Next time, boss. Maybe I’ll come visit you on Little Luna—once the volleyball courts are set up!"
The members of the expeditionary force now reboarded the Titan . At the last moment, a crewman from the space outpost came floating through the connecting passage bearing a large, pressurized case.
"For Dr. Wohl," he explained tersely, handing the case to Bud, who looked at it curiously. "What is it?" Bud asked, but when he glanced up the crewman had already departed.
Bud brought the case aboard and handed it to Violet Wohl, who expressed pleasure and carefully unsealed it in front of the other crew members. The case proved to contain a cage full of white rats!
Chow’s face wore a doubtful expression. "Brand my gyro, ma’am, what’re you doin’ with them varmints?"
Dr. Wohl, carefully strapping the case to her own bunk, replied with mild indignation, "These are valuable cargo, Chow. They’ve been raised in low gravity on a special diet, and I’m taking them along for research experiments on the satellite. I don’t want to risk having them injured before we even get there."
"Wa-al," responded the range hand, "if’n they get loose in here, we’re gonna wish we’d brought along a few space cats."
Dr. Wohl stood tall and looked Chow in the eye. "They won’t get loose. But if anything happens to these little guests of mine, you’ll find that I can be worse than a wet space tiger! Is that clear?"
"Yes sir, ma’am!" gulped the chef. But as he slunk meekly away, he snorted under his breath, "Huh! First time I ever heard o’ treatin’ those thievin’ calamoots so good!"
Smiling, Tom ordered everyone to buckle his safety harness. Then he accessed the flight computer which would control their revised course to the satellite, and radioed farewell to the space outpost.
"Here goes!" he cried as the countdown ended.
The main thruster roared, and the Titan responded instantly. But instead of a gradual, steady acceleration, the ship hurled itself into space as if struck by a home-run batter! The force of the acceleration was more powerful than the crew had expected, and they were all jolted backwards into their cushioned seats, violently.
Hank Sterling choked out a lungful of air, as if he had been slugged in the stomach, and Col. Northrup, who sat next to him, remarked through clenched teeth, "This is nothing, my friend. On the shuttle we had to take more than—"
The next instant the cabin resounded with a sharp crack like a pistol shot! The acceleration seat occupied by Henrick Jatczak flipped backward, hurling the elderly scientist to the deck!
"Tom!" yelled Gabriel Knorff, struggling with the sudden pressures of acceleration. "The
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