"Yes? Well, don't go ga-ga over it," said Bud. "Let's do what we came to do and scram out of here. This place makes me jumpy!"

Tom appeared oblivious. "It seems like vandalism to wreck such an engineering achievement! Also, and this may sound strange to you," he went on in a doubtful tone, "are we really justified in taking the law into our own hands?"

"They're trying to wreck our setup, aren't they?" Bud retorted. "Think of the destruction they've caused already! Do you want to stand by and see Enterprises destroyed too?"

"Bud's right," Hank Sterling spoke up quietly. "Take a look at this."

He beckoned them over to another corner of the cave and pointed to a series of notations, crudely scrawled in white chalk on the cave wall. Half hidden behind a clump of rock, they would have escaped casual notice.

Tom read them and gave an angry gasp. A list of places and dates, already checked off, showed the quakes that had occurred so far. The last notation, not yet checked, said: SWIFT ENTERPRISES and was dated five days ahead.

"Okay, that's all the convincing I need!" Tom said grimly.

He issued quick orders. Hank and Arv were to rush back to the Sea Hound, get an underwater pump from the gear carried aboard, and install it just off the beach. From there, they were to run a pipe line up into the cave, using special plastic tubing which hooked together in a jiffy.

"Cover the piping with sand and gravel, so it won't be noticed," Tom added. "In the meantime, Bud and I will go to work on this setup here."

"Aye-aye, skipper!" Hank and Arv responded.

As they hurried out through the tunnel, Tom and Bud set to work with the tools they had brought along. The diesel was partly dismantled, sand poured into its fuel feed, and the generator windings ripped out. The boys then tore off and tangled all wiring leads to the electrical equipment, took apart much of the equipment itself, and smashed the control panel.

"Boy, if those Brungarian creeps get this setup working again, they're really geniuses!" Bud said as he and Tom paused a second.

"This is only the beginning, pal!" Tom said. "Let's tackle the machine!"

The huge earthquake device was a far more difficult proposition to disable. Its heavy structural parts had to be disassembled or pried apart, one by one. Both boys were streaked with sweat as they finished.

By this time, Hank and Arv had the piping installed halfway into the tunnel. Spurred on as if by a sixth sense of danger, Tom told them to go back to the beach and get the pump working while he and Bud connected the few remaining pipe lengths into the machine room.

Minutes later, their job done, Tom and Bud rushed out to the mouth of the cave and waved their flashlights. Soon the water could be heard boiling through the pipeline. It gushed out with a roar, flooding the machine room.

"Let's go!" Tom cried, yanking Bud's arm.

As they reached the beach and joined Hank and Arv, Tom's keen ears picked up the drone of a plane somewhere in the darkness.

He gave a yell of alarm and pointed skyward. A ghostlike jet came zooming into view, boring straight toward them. All four broke into a mad dash for the seacopter.

They were halfway out on the reef when the plane leveled out of its dive with an earsplitting whine.

"Hide!" Tom shouted, fearing a bomb might be dropped.



All leaped for cover among the rocks. At the same instant, a fiery beam like a bolt of lightning shot from the plane. It seared the spot on the reef they had just vacated!

"A ray gun!" Bud gasped.

The plane's speed had already carried it far past the island. Before it could maneuver around for another pass, Tom and his companions were on their feet, racing for the safety of the Sea Hound.

They were aboard and clamping shut the hatch lid as the jet made its second pass. This time its fiery ray glanced harmlessly off the seacopter's Tomasite sheathing. Seconds later, the Sea Hound had darted off beyond reach into the ocean waters.

"Whew! We really broke all speed records that time!" Arv panted.

The others looked at him with wan but triumphant grins. Then they began to speculate on what the beamlike bolt was, who was in the plane, and if their enemy knew who Tom's group were.

Dawn was streaking the sky when the seacopter arrived at Fearing Island. The adventurers flew back to Enterprises at once. Tom and Bud snatched a few hours' sleep in the apartment adjoining Tom's laboratory.

Later in the morning the whole group gathered in Tom's laboratory to recount the raid to Mr. Swift and Harlan Ames. A bell signal from the electronic brain brought them rushing to the decoder. Grim news awaited them. The message said:

EXMAN TO SWIFTS. YOUR ENEMIES ARE NOW SURE I AM SPY. THEY PLAN TO DESTROY ME.

"No! It mustn't happen!" Tom cried in dismay. "Dad, I'll rescue him myself!"

His words were greeted with shocked protests from the others.

"Don't be crazy!" Bud said. "You wouldn't have a chance!"

"It would be suicide!" Arv Hanson declared.

Chow grabbed his young boss by the arm. "Brand my cayenne pepper, before I'd let you make a blame fool move like that, I'd rope an' hawg-tie you myself!"

Ames interjected the most convincing argument. "I know how you feel, Tom," he said sympathetically, "but I'm positive the United States government would never permit such a risky undertaking."

Tom was beside himself with anxiety. Not only had he worked and struggled to make the space brain's visit a scientific success, but also it was he who had thought of the scheme to use Exman as a spy. In Tom's eyes, if the Brungarian rebels were to destroy the brain's body, it would amount to murder! The young inventor knew that the destruction of the "body" would not destroy the energy, but that it would be "lost" as far as the earth was concerned.

Who knew, Tom asked himself, what priceless secrets the "brain" might ultimately yield to earth's scientific researchers? If the Brungarians were to succeed, this might deter the Swifts' space friends from ever attempting another visit to our planet!

In despair, Tom turned to his father. "You know how much is at stake, Dad!" he pleaded. "Isn't there something we can do?"

Mr. Swift had been silent, thoughtfully drumming his pencil on the workbench. He looked up.

"Tom, I can think of only one thing," he said. "Perhaps our friends on Planet X can help us. They said they would have no control over the energy until it was ready to return home. But maybe we can get them to help us transfer the energy back here—not by any means of earth transportation, but by some extraterrestrial means known to their scientists."

Tom's eyes kindled with hope. "Dad, that's a terrific idea!" he exclaimed. "Let's try!"

A message was quickly beamed out into space. Minutes went by. Then the machine signaled a reply. It said:

WE WILL ATTEMPT RESCUE IF YOU WILL ARC A POWERFUL RADIO BEAM FROM POINT OF ORIGINAL EARTH LANDING TO POINT WHERE ENERGY IS NOW.

Moments later, a further message followed, giving technical instructions on how to project the beam. It ended:

NOTIFY US WHEN SETUP IS READY.

"Yahoo!" Chow whooped. "Brand my space guns, I reckon we'll get Ole Think Box home safe after all!"

"He's not home yet, Chow," Tom cautioned, grinning but still tense with worry. "Glad you said that, though. It reminds me that the first job on our hands is to build a new think box for Exman!"

With hope alive, Tom turned icy calm and buckled down to the work at hand. Before beginning construction of a new space robot, he contacted Exman via the electronic brain and asked him for his exact location in Brungaria. The answer came in precise latitude and longitude.

Next, Tom radioed instructions for the rescue plan. As soon as Exman was notified that the invisible force from Planet X was ready to transport his energy, he was to unlatch point five of his star head. He would then be free to attach his energy to the rescue beam and be arced back to the hillside spot near Enterprises, where Tom would have a new robot body waiting.

Exman replied tersely:

MESSAGE UNDERSTOOD. WILL COMPLY.

Tom snapped out orders. "Hank! Arv! Bud! And, Dad, we can sure use your help too! Every hour may be precious! We must construct a replica of Exman's robot container as fast as possible!"

Every resource of Swift Enterprises was convulsed into action. But for all their scientific miracles, the staff could not perform magic. The complicated robot device required hours of highly skilled construction.

Darkness had fallen by the time the energy container was ready. Meanwhile, a powerful transmitter and directional antenna had been set up at the hillside spot. Extensive reports on the condition of the ionosphere poured into headquarters.

The Swifts and their small group of trusted associates trucked the new robot and the electronic brain out to the site. Tom then signaled his space friends that he was ready. They responded with the exact time for the rescue attempt. Tom transmitted the information to Exman, who replied:

DANGER NEAR. BRUNGARIAN SCIENTISTS READY TO DESTROY ME.

"Great bellowin' buffaloes!" Chow gulped. "Please make it quick, Tom! We got to save that space critter!"

Tom glanced at his illuminated watch dial. The countdown ticked by. Suddenly his hand closed a switch, transmitting the rescue beam. More moments passed as the Swifts and the watchers strained their eyes toward the night sky.

"Here it comes!" Bud yelled suddenly.

A fiery bluish-white light had suddenly flamed into view. It grew steadily larger. Tom poised the container and opened one point of the star head.

Now the blue fireball was arcing down over the hillside, trailing its orange-red comet tail. It hissed into the container and Tom snapped shut the star head.

The next moment, the young inventor wavered and slumped unconscious!



CHAPTER XX

THE ROBOT SPY'S STORY

"Tom!" his father cried. Anxiously the others crowded around the lanky young inventor, who had fallen beside the new robot.

"Stand back! Give him air!" Bud urged. "How is he, Mr. Swift?"

The elder scientist was feeling Tom's wrist. "His pulse is beating, but it's a bit weak. He must have received a terrific shock from all that energy!... Tom!... Tom, son, can you hear me?"

The young inventor moaned and stirred faintly but his eyes did not open. His cheeks and lips seemed colorless in the glow of Mr. Swift's flashlight. Chow was terrified, hovering about helplessly.

"I'll call Doc Simpson to bring a pulmotor!" Hank exclaimed.

"Yes, do, Hank!" Mr. Swift pleaded. "Quick!"

An ambulance arrived a few minutes later. Doc Simpson and an attendant leaped out, and the resuscitation equipment—specially designed by the Swifts for their plant infirmary—was hastily unloaded.

Anxious moments followed, but finally Tom began to respond to the treatment. Soon his eyes were open and he regained full consciousness. As Doc held a paper cup of water for him to sip, Tom smiled wanly.

"Okay." he murmured, "I'm all right now. Sorry if I scared you, Dad." He started to get up.

"It's a hospital bed for you, skipper. And no arguments!" Doc Simpson said sternly. "What happened here?"

"I believe," Mr. Swift answered, "that our space friends, in finding a way to move the energy back to us, had less close control over it on earth than when they sent it from space."

By midmorning the next day, Tom had awakened refreshed from a good night's sleep and felt normal again. Over Doc Simpson's protests, he insisted upon dressing and hurrying over to his laboratory.

Here he found his father working intently amid a jumble of mechanical parts, tools, and electronic equipment. Nearby stood Exman with a panel open in his upper body, exposing the controls and output equipment.

"Hi, Dad!" Tom exclaimed as he strode into the laboratory. "What's doing with Ole Think Box?"

Mr. Swift looked up with a smile of relief. "'Morning, son! All well again? That's wonderful! I'm just giving Exman an artificial speech mechanism. He's already briefed us via the electronic brain on the situation in Brungaria. But I thought it would be even better if he could tell us in person."

Details on the earthquake plot, Mr. Swift went on, had already been reported to the Defense Department. Tom's raid on Balala Island had effectively blocked further quake attempts.

The Brungarian rebels had become enraged by their failure to extract Exman's secrets, and had decided to disintegrate the robot creature and its brain energy. But the youthful Brungarian loyalist group had kept them so busy with resistance outbreaks that they had delayed too long.

"Lucky thing!" Tom put in with an affectionate grin at Exman. "If they had started to destroy him half an hour sooner, it might have been pretty sad for Ole Think Box!"

Tom was intrigued by his father's design for an artificial speech mechanism. After talking it over, they decided that Tom would go to work on a central computer device to integrate all the senses. He would also provide Exman with "ears," which would be sound-reception equipment. Mr. Swift, meanwhile, would continue work on the speech mechanism and also perfect the seeing equipment he had started earlier.

The day sped by as the two Swifts worked with feverish intensity. Lunch was eaten from their workbenches, but the inventors reluctantly halted at dinnertime.

After a tasty meal of fried chicken at home with Mrs. Swift and Sandy, both Toms returned to the plant. Father and son labored until well past midnight on their experiments. Then they snatched a few hours of sleep and resumed their tasks early the next morning.

By early afternoon an atmosphere of excitement pervaded Enterprises. The visitor from Planet X would soon be able to communicate directly with his earth friends! Bud, Chow, Hank Sterling, Arv Hanson, and Art Wiltessa gathered in the laboratory, along with several other Swift key men. Mrs. Swift, Sandy, and Phyl also arrived to watch.

At last the sensing equipment was completed and installed. Exman was ready to speak!

His voice came out haltingly, but as the words were selected from a vast taped collection, they were clear and bold:

GREETINGS TO YOU, MY EARTH FRIENDS!

Sandy gave a squeal of delight and the room echoed with applause for Exman's first effort. After a few adjustments, he was able to speak more freely and smoothly.

Tom whispered to Phyl, "Confidentially, we had a dummy run before lunchtime. At first, all Exman could do was croak like a frog."

Phyl, thrilled by the spectacle of a speaking space creature, gave the young inventor's hand a squeeze. "Tom, he's just wonderful!"

Tom agreed. "Our country owes him a lot for exposing the Brungarian rebel schemes."

To Tom's amazement, Exman's "ears" picked up his murmured words, even above the babble of the spectators crowding the room.

"Your country owes you much, Tom Swift," the creature said. "You conceived the idea of an electronic spy and found ways to block the rebels' destructive earthquake plans."

As Tom flushed at the crowd's applause, Exman continued, "Unless I am mistaken, you will soon learn that you have accomplished even more."

Tom was mystified by this. Meanwhile, the spectators listened spellbound as Exman went on talking, telling what he had learned of the valiant resistance efforts to overthrow the Brungarian rebels.

A short time later the telephone rang. Tom answered, and the operator informed him that John Thurston of Central Intelligence was calling.

"Great news, Tom," the CIA man said. "We've just learned that the rightful Brungarian government forces have struck hard in the capital city and at half a dozen other points. The rebel puppets and their troops have been crushed completely!"

Tom was enthusiastic over the news.

"That's not all," Thurston went on. "In case you don't realize it, the information which you supplied by means of your electronic spy is chiefly what enabled the government forces to win out. They've promised to dismantle the rebels' other two earthquake bases."

As Tom hung up and relayed the electrifying news, Bud and the others burst into cheers.

"It is all due to Tom Swift and his secret assistant," Exman said.

Tom was puzzled by the remark but had no time to ask what he meant as the people in the room crowded around to shake his hand. Mr. and Mrs. Swift smiled proudly at their son's latest triumph. Phyl and Sandy expressed their feelings by giving Tom a quick kiss.

"Hey! Where do I come in?" Bud protested.

Before the girls could answer, the door of the laboratory opened and Harlan Ames walked in, accompanied by a lean, gray-eyed young man with dark close-cropped hair. Samson Narko!

Chow let out a yelp of rage. "Why, brand my sagebrush hash, it's that double-crossin' Brungarian—"

"Hold it, Chow!" Ames cut short the outburst. "Allow me to introduce one of America's most effective counterespionage agents, Mr. Samson Narko!"

Tom and his friends were astounded. Narko himself smiled somewhat uncomfortably. "I can imagine how you all feel—you especially, Tom. But, believe me, I could not risk pulling my punches even when it put you all in grave peril, such as when I fired that missile across the bow of your sub. I could only hope that Tom Swift would succeed in eluding us."

Ames quickly briefed the others on Narko's background. Brungarian-born, he had received his engineering training in the United States and had learned to love America. When he saw his own country threatened by the forces of dictatorship, he had secretly offered his services to the CIA against the rebels. Soon afterward, the agency had approached him to become a counterspy.

"I dared not relax from my role as a spy for a moment," Narko added. "I even grabbed the chance to plant that cache of firearms in Latty's cellar to convince any rebel agents who might be watching me that I was on their side. Tom, the rebels gave me the job of hijacking your space robot. But, going on the brief messages that the CIA was able to get through to me, I guessed that you were using it as bait."

"I guess we all owe you an apology," Tom said. "And our thanks. We were lucky to have you on our side."

"He saved the lives of a number of loyalist prisoners and gave the government forces some vital tip-offs of his own," Ames added.

As Tom shook hands with Narko, the young Brungarian said warmly, "It is good to know that Tom Swift is my friend." With a chuckle, Narko added, "I know from experience that you certainly make a dangerous enemy!"

As the others gathered around to speak to Samson Narko and add their friendly congratulations, Bud slapped Tom on the back.

"Well, skipper, what's next on the schedule?"

For a moment Tom did not reply. He too wondered where his next scientific adventure would lead him.

Finally Tom turned to Bud. "I'm not sure. But who knows what space secrets Exman may have up his mechanical sleeve!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

[Errors noted by transcriber:

Tom and Bud wore swimming trunks under their slacks. text reads swiming Tom looked up, his blue eyes blazing. text has period for comma KIDNAPED! [chapter title] and elsewhere spelling "kidnaped" consistent in text ]

THE END