Tom Swift and His Diving Seacopter (17 page)

Not wanting to expose the depth charge casing to any pressure or force that might set it off, Tom concentrated on shoving the descending rocket out of harm’s way. With agonizing slowness and delicacy he edged the prow of the seacopter up to the transparent cylinder, which gave off an iridescent glint in the rays of the aqualamps. Then he began to push.

"She’s moving," breathed Bud. But could Tom push the capsule out of range of the depth charge before it hit bottom and became mired in the silt?

"Fifty feet," Tom whispered. "One hundred feet… coming up on—"

The
Ocean Arrow
shuddered under the thudding impact of a fierce undersea blast!

"Oh no!" cried Bud despairingly. "The rocket’s blown up!"

"Not the rocket," Tom corrected him. "The depth charge! Our jet backwash must have shoved it against a rock." He turned the searchlights toward the capsule, which had slid away under the force of the concussion. "Bud, it’s all right! It’s sitting on the floor!"

Snatching up the mike, he sent the glad word to the
Sky Queen
through a floating relay buoy, asking if the suction machine could be repaired in a hurry.

"I’ve already done that with new fuses," his father replied hastily. "Stand by and don’t worry. We’ll soon have that rocket in hand."

The subsequent effort took more than an hour. But at long last Tom and Bud were standing in the aerial hangar of the
Sky Queen,
two in the small crowd gazing at the space capsule in awe—and a certain amount of fear.

"Magnificent!" whispered Munson Wickliffe. "To think this happened in my lifetime!"

A fantastic and breath-taking spectacle met their eyes. Behind the curving transparent walls of the transport capsule, dozens of different types of lifeforms were displayed to view. All glistened with a red, metallic sheen—a strange hue not quite like any shade Tom could recall encountering. Anchored like stalagmites, they appeared to be growing directly out of the stones and rocks that simulated an alien landscape. Some resembled honeycombed tulips or huge upside-down mushrooms without stems. Several "flowers" were also included, with long spikes from which an oily liquid could be seen oozing.

Among these shapes, a number of small, queer-looking figures could be seen creeping about. They had no visible legs, but inched along like snails or snakes. Yet their appearance was more like some type of rodent, but faceless. One crawled up a flower spike and began sipping the oozing liquid.

"Boss, wh-what are them things?" gasped Chow.

George Braun answered for Tom. "Plants, Chow. From another world!"

"I know, but them bitty things crawlin’ around—"

"I believe they’re
all
plants," pronounced Mr. Swift. "Plants with the ability to move around and seek nutrition."

Munson Wickliffe nodded. "Damon, your observation is most acute. This appears to be vegetative life. But the mobile species must have at least the rudiments of a nervous system."

The watchers stared in awe, too fascinated to speak. Finally Mr. Swift put an arm around Tom and murmured thoughtfully: "For the first time in history, human eyes have looked upon forms of life entirely unrelated to themselves!"

"For the
second
time, Dad," responded the young inventor gently. Damon Swift realized that his son was referring to the controversial observations made by his great-grandfather, the first Tom Swift. "I can’t wait to get this space garden back to our lab in Enterprises. What a thrill it will be, studying these specimens in detail!"

Ham cried out, "Look! Something’s happening inside there!" Before the horrified gaze of the watchers, a number of the plants began to shrivel and wither! At the same time several of the "crawlers" stopped crawling around and rolled slowly over on their backs.

"They’re dying!" exclaimed George.

"Can’t we do anything, Tom?" Bud demanded.

"We don’t know what’s wrong with them," choked Tom in anguished dismay.

"Maybe if we opened up the capsule—" Hank Sterling began.

"We don’t know how," Mr. Swift said softly. "Our space friends engineered the capsule to open by itself, but only when external conditions were safe and healthful for the organisms."

Tom gave a nod of grieved resignation. "Whatever is killing them is the same unknown factor that the space beings were unable to identify. They hoped we would be able to do it."

Hopes dashed, the onlookers watched helplessly. In ten minutes it was obvious that all the plants were dead.

Dr. Wickliffe rested a hand on Tom’s shoulder. "A great man reminded me—not long ago, in fact—that science advances by error. I have every confidence in the world that the very talented Swift family will overcome this obstacle, and learn a good deal in the process."

"Amen t’that!" declared Chow Winkler in his enthusiastic foghorn voice. He was rewarded by seeing a wan smile on the face of his young boss.

"At least the seacopter’s proven herself," he said. "And let’s not forget that we have a whole city to explore."

"A city?" asked Dr. Wickliffe. "What city, my boy?"

Tom’s imagination carried him back to the submarine city of gold. He knew he would return there soon, with a new invention to salvage its treasures and uncover its secrets. But unknown to Tom, an unexpected adventure would intervene—
Tom Swift in The Caves of Nuclear Fire.

"I’ll tell you all about the city we found, Doctor." Tom yawned and stretched involuntarily. "Better yet, let Bud or Chow or Ham or George tell you the tale. As for me, I plan to sleep like an oyster till a week from Sunday!"