Tom Swift and His Electronic Retroscope (14 page)

Tom’s eyes fixed on the master time dial. "This bowl is very old. It reads A.D. 249!"

Professor Castillez heartily congratulated the young inventor. "Nice going, young man!"

Tom smiled with quiet satisfaction, but said nothing until he had pulled the series of digital-print reproductions from the computer unit and studied them closely.

"It’s the same message we read from your sacred stone," he told Chief Hu-Quetzal. "Now let’s try the camera on another spot on the bowl."

Tom repeated the process. At last he could read the complete set of ancient inscriptions! "There’s more of the message here," Tom declared. "But it will take me some time to figure out the meaning."

The chief stared at the pictures with a look of awe. "Some day, perhaps, we will learn more about my people’s ancestors from the sky," he said hopefully.

Tom used his retroscope on a few more carvings on stones which the natives had brought to him. But he found no further mathematical space symbols, and nothing else of great antiquity. Finally, as darkness closed in, he broke off his experiments for the day.

"I’m sure ready to start digging," he told Bud. "I have the feeling there are plenty of signs of the space armada out there somewhere."

Overhearing, Dr. Liu approached and asked quietly if Tom had identified a site.

The young scientist-inventor gave a nod. "Yes. Mighty Max talked about an area not far from his cave, where he found a few pieces of his treasure-trove. When I thought it over I realized that that side of the hill is right where that ancient roadway seems to end!"

After a thoughtful pause Chow raised another subject. "You know, boss, I jest got t’ wondrin’ how them five little men are feelin’ about America right now."

Tom chuckled and glanced at his watch. "They would’ve arrived hours ago. I’m sure Dad and Grandyke University put on some kind of big spread to welcome them—they may not even be in their residences yet." He said he would radio his father sometime the next day, using Castillez’s short-wave set.

The next morning dawned bright, yellow, and oppressively hot. It seemed the breeze, always lazy and indifferent, had given up completely!

"Son," said Chow over breakfast, "I got a great idee fer your next invention—a gosh-darn full-fledged air conditioner that you kin carry around inside yer hat!" Sweat dribbled down from his generous forehead despite the shade of his sombrero.

Tom gave a wry smile and replied, "Pard, I’d get to work on it right now if I could."

The products of a restless night, Tom had several ideas for improvements to his retroscope that he wished to work on before photographing any more carvings. He had hardly seated himself on a portable camp-chair next to the camera when Bud burst in excitedly.

"There’s a helicopter circling overhead, skipper," the youth reported. "I think it’s going to land!"

Tom rushed out to see for himself, noticing the throb of the chopper’s blades for the first time. The compact transport was slowly descending toward the clearing where Tom had first brought down his paraplane.

"That’s no private whirlybird," Tom remarked, squinting his eyes against the sun.

"It’s an official Mexican government craft," Professor Castillez replied after studying its markings closely through binoculars. "This type of helicopter is used by the national department of, how shall I put it?—matters concerning the native populations. They have their own regional police units and travel from place to place to make inspections and so forth. My own office at the University reports to the same department."

Accompanied by the visitors to Huratlcuyon,
ahau
Quetzal led the way down the path to the clearing, where they all stood and waited. In a few moments the helicopter touched down. Three men climbed out, wearing khaki police uniforms. All three carried holstered carbines. One of them, tall and swarthy, was evidently the lead officer. He came forward and saluted briskly.

"May I ask who is in charge here,
señors?"
he inquired in English, directing himself to Hutchcraft as if drawn by the man’s perpetual air of authority.

"I
am," Tom replied before Hutch could speak. "My name is Tom Swift and these men are members of my expedition, for the most part. We’re from the United States. But if you mean the person in charge of the village, it is this man, Chief Quetzal."

The official glanced at the
ahau
but only shrugged dismissively. "I myself am
Jefe
Luis Rodriguez of the
Policia Especialidad
for this region of Yucatan," the police chief said in a coldly official tone, rolling his
r
’s. "Your papers, please."

"They are in our hut in the village, with our other things."

"Then you will take me there, if you please."

The young inventor bristled but remained outwardly calm. He turned to Hu-Quetzal. "With your permission,
ahau."
The old chief smiled and gave a dignified nod.

At the village Tom handed over the documents. The
jefe
scrutinized these for a moment, then said, "Native gossip has it that some Americans are disturbing the valuable Mayan ruins in these parts. Are you the ones?"

"I’ve examined some relics, if that’s what you mean," Tom conceded. "You see, I’ve invented a new type of camera which reveals the original carvings on stone and also the age of any inscription. However, we haven’t begun digging yet, although we intend to."

"By whose permission?" Rodriguez snapped in an unfriendly manner, black eyebrows raised high.

Tom, who was accustomed to pleasant, courteous treatment from the Mexican authorities, was amazed. "Our trip was arranged through the University of Mexico and your
aduana
, as you can see from our identification papers," Tom explained.

"These papers state merely that you are to fly several Maya back to your country for a medical research project," Rodriguez said. "They do not mention any archaeological work."

"I’m sorry. I should have made that clear," Tom said politely. "The Mayas have already been flown to the United States. Permission to excavate the local ruins was arranged separately in Mexico City. We were told at the
Universidad
—that is, by
señor
Marco Barancos of the Institute of Anthropology and History in Yucatan—that these papers were sufficient for our brief visit."

The swarthy police chief frowned and exchanged several remarks in Spanish with the other two policemen, whom he addressed as Pedro and Miguel. Then he turned back to Tom.

"I am sorry to say, Mr. Swift, that without proof, your story is unconvincing," he said bluntly. "Where is this
señor
Barancos you speak of?"

Tom shrugged. "In Mexico City. He never intended to accompany us, but I’m sure you could—"

"Si,
very strange, is it not?" interrupted Rodriguez sarcastically. "We have only your word that this man Barancos even exists."

The young inventor flushed angrily at the police chief’s tone. He struggled to keep his temper. At that moment Professor Castillez stepped forward, introduced himself in Spanish, and added in English, "As you will see from my own documents,
Señor Jefe,
I am fully accredited by your own department, albeit perhaps at a
higher
level, eh?—and am enabled to grant all permissions required."

Rodriguez mulled this over somewhat suspiciously.
"Si.
Very well. Of course we know the name of Tom Swift, for who does not? Yet to speak frankly, there are those who are uneasy with expeditioners who come down to us from
El Norte,
to ‘study’ and perhaps take away our native relics."

Now Pedro and Miguel, who seemed to have followed the conversation in English, spoke to him in an undertone. The
jefe
turned suddenly to Dr. Stephenus Liu and his wife, who stood nearby. "And what of you, sir? Do you come with this Swift group, from the United States?"

Liu’s eyes twinkled. "My wife and I come from China, if one wishes to go back a generation or two. But no, we are independent researchers, and possess all necessary papers, I assure you."

"And so do I!" declared Wilson Hutchcraft. "And, sir, I do
not
appreciate the contrary inference."

"Hmm!" After a whispered conference, Rodriguez said, "Very well,
señors
, we will take no action for the moment. It is my job to inquire. However, we wish to inspect this new camera you spoke of, young man."

Tom explained that his camera equipment was inside the hut provided by Ahau Quetzal’s village. "I’ll be happy to demonstrate it to you. It’s a very harmless process."

"Now,
that is," muttered Hutchcraft under his breath, drawing a glare from Chow and a clenched fist from Bud.

Tom connected-up the retroscope and demonstrated it on some of the accumulated carvings. Rodriguez watched in silence, but by the end seemed mollified. "Rather impressive. Perhaps it will be of some future use to the
policia."
Tom asked if Rodriguez had any further questions. "Perhaps one more. What is this vehicle I see at the perimeter—it has no wheels? A helicopter of sorts?"

"It’s a new experimental aircraft. I call it a paraplane."

"Ah. And you came from the United States in this?"

"No, sir," was the reply. "My group came by way of a large private aircraft, which has taken the medical subjects back with it. The paraplane was carried aboard."

"Would you like a ride in it, perhaps?" inquired Castillez suavely, giving Tom a slight wink. "You and your men?"

Jefe
Rodriguez frowned. "We do not wish to impose."

"I’m sure you’d find it interesting," Tom said with a smile. "It should clear up any, er—doubts you might have about our activities here. You’ll see that there’s really no room inside for smuggling artifacts."

The three officers stared in half-hidden astonishment at the strange-looking craft. "But what sort of an airplane
is
it,
señor
Swift?" the police chief demanded. "Do you not require an airstrip?"

"When the wings are extended, it flies as a conventional jet," Tom explained. "There’s also an inflatable dirigible bag enclosed in the bay on top of the fuselage, which can be used for take-off or landing in tight spots. I’ve already used it several times."

The three members of the
policia
scowled and scratched their jaws uneasily. It was evident that they were none too eager to board such a weird-looking aircraft. But realizing that their collective manhood was on the line, Pedro and Miguel looked at their chief and shrugged helplessly.

"We accept your offer—
gracias,"
Rodriguez announced at last. "A short flight, if you please—once around the hill, then back."

Tom warmed up the paraplane and gave the three officers a hand as they climbed aboard. Then he flicked the control switch to spread the transifoil struts and fill the bag with helium. The ship rose gently from the clearing.

"Caramba!"
the police chief muttered as they floated above the treetops. "Most remarkable!"

Tom extended the wings and opened the throttle very slightly. The ship floated gracefully toward the hill that held Max’s cave. Cutting back the throttle, the young inventor let the paraplane glide along silently beneath its liftbag.

Presently, making a casual downward glance, Tom stiffened in surprise, trying not to give himself away.
Good night, look at that!
he thought excitedly. Having crossed the summit he was now looking down at the far side of the hill. Below was a broad, relatively open space of low grasses and scrubbrush, but no large trees—nothing with big, deep roots. The space bore a clear rectangular shape, with an offshoot that suggested the buried remains of an ancient roadway. "That must be where Max found the bowl!" he murmured. "Something big’s buried there!"

"Excuse me?" said Rodriguez.

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to speak aloud. We’ll turn back now." The plane had passed beyond the clearing and was now over the dense jungle. Tom began to manipulate the controls. But suddenly he realized that the rudder and elevators were not responding properly.

Alarmed, he worked the stick and control pedals. Again, only a feeble response! With a sinking feeling Tom knew that he and his passengers were scudding helplessly over an unbroken expanse of forest, with no possible spot for an emergency landing and no way to turn around!

TOM stole a quick glance at
Jefe
Rodriguez. The police chief was staring down at the jungle scenery, while Pedro and Miguel talked volubly in Spanish. None of them realized yet that the paraplane was crippled. Tom hoped to keep it that way.
Maybe I can figure out some plan of action
was his hopeful thought.

Sweating under the tension, the young inventor cut throttle completely and sized up the situation. His indicator dial showed that the wind direction had changed sharply. It was now blowing inland from the distant sea—carrying them away from both the village and the clearing next to the hill.

Rodriguez threw Tom a puzzled glance. "We are turning back,
si?"
Tom nodded curtly, hoping to avoid further explanation. But the police chief scowled suspiciously, and said, "Something is wrong. We are not turning about."

"I’m sorry, sir, but I’m having a problem with the main controls."

Rodriguez burst out angrily, "What is this,
señor
—a trick of some kind? On behalf of the
policia
I demand an explanation at once!"

Tom ignored the demand and focused on the problem. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. A skillful sailor, Tom had often tacked a sailboat upwind on Lake Carlopa. "Perhaps," he said half to himself, "by inflating and deflating the dirigible bag, I can tack
vertically
against the wind in the paraplane and force her to turn! It’s worth a try." Luis Rodriguez only glared at him.

Tom fed more current to the transifoil strips and switched on the helium pump full power. As the liftbag swelled to its greatest size, the plane bobbed upward. Then Tom deflated the bag slightly and used his increased altitude to coast downward into the wind, his airspeed allowing him to curve the plane’s path. The windward impact made them buck—but the nose was swerving aside under its pressure! After several attempts, the paraplane had been brought about and Tom was able to use the jet to propel the ship considerably closer to Huratlcuyon. Realizing that he would have to cut the forward thrust completely for a vertical landing, Tom throttled-off and again ballooned the ship upward, repeating the same tactic to maneuver closer to the village landing site. Finally Tom brought the ship down with a bump and all four heaved a sigh of relief.