“Ahh. And the third?”
“The physical dynamics and limitations of that single large disc overhead. I’m not saying it is completely impossible, but I have doubts.”
“If I sent you a little sketch right now, something one of my Petty Officers did, that looks good to me, can you shoot the appropriate holes in it?”
Tom said he’d be glad, and gave the Navy man his email address. One minute later it came through.
Giving a whistle, Tom had to admit, “That is a really great sketch, sir. Compliments to your artist.”
What he was looking at appeared to be part dragonfly with a large canopy over the cockpit and an open tail boom along with a pair of small but more traditional rotors of propellers, one on each side. He decided to not mention the torpedo hanging below the cockpit, but knew if that was the primary reason for this larger helo, Enterprises would refuse to produce it.
On top sat a machine gun on a swivel turret and he had to laugh to himself on seeing that the artist had the gun pointing straight back at the small vertical fin at the end of the boom. It was another reason why this would not be built.
After a few minutes, the Admiral asked, “Well? Thoughts? And, I mean other that the far-too-small mini-rotors on the sides we would want to change to your amazing solid discs.”
With a sigh, Tom had to tell him it was not a feasible design.
“To begin with, even with two rotor discs, unless they were, oh, about one-point-three times wider than the current single one they could not lift the aircraft and passengers much less any external ummm, cargo. While the cockpit could easily work, I can’t see a reason for that tail. And, as you should already know, Swift Enterprises does not do weapons, or products that are ready to have weapons added.”
They talked about the design a few more moments before the Admiral admitted it had been a long shot.
“But,” he added at the end of the conversation, “if you do find a way to make something like that happen, I’d appreciate hearing about it.”
“Sure,” Tom told him, “but I just thought of another reason this might not work. Visibility. Nobody would be able to see below them where the discs are, and putting them overhead will not work. We tried that and the thing gets very hard to handle. Sorry to disappoint you.”
However, even as he hung up the receiver, Tom’s mind was racing through several possibilities. He made a quick note to follow up on a few ideas and then turned his attention back to the Mars problem.
CHAPTER 6 /
SANDY SHINES
THE WEATHER REPORTS all spoke of incredible dangers from a pair of hurricanes coming aground on the Baja Peninsula of Mexico. In only a few more hours the first would race over La Paz in the lower peninsula where estimations said half the small city could be devastated.
From there its projected path would see it passing across the Gulf of California on its way to an encounter with the mainland and a cluster of towns including Culicán and at least a half dozen small towns surrounding it.
Estimates said to expect deaths in the hundreds and possibly in excess of one-thousand people might perish.
“This isn’t fair!” Sandy Swift-Barclay wailed to her best friend and sister-in-law, Bashalli. “Why can’t Tom move one of his weather thingies from the Caribbean and just stop the storms?”
The beautiful former Pakistani sadly shook her head. “I asked Tom about that this morning and he said it would take more than a week to move one, and even then this dual storm is too large. He would have to find a way to get all three of the cyclonic eradicating satellites out there, and needed to have done it five days ago. And, even you must admit there was no news about this until two days ago.” She looked at Sandy and could see the combination of anger and hopelessness in her face.
Sandy could find no words to express her frustrations and so she began to cry. Softly at first and then the torrent came. The two women sat on Tom and Bashalli’s sofa hugging and both crying over the horrible damage that was about to be visited upon the people in the affected areas.
After ten minutes both were effectively cried out but they sat, still hugging for another three minutes before Sandy pulled away.
Bashalli could see determination suddenly flare up in the blond’s eyes. It was such a powerful transformation it made her shudder. “What?”
“I’m going to mount a rescue and compassionate visit the moment that nasty wind passes.”
She seemed so determined Bashalli didn’t want to remind her that there were plenty of international organizations poised to move in as quickly as possible. That news might have been accepted had it come from Sandy’s father, Damon, or at least from her husband, Bud. She made a mental note to call Tom the moment Sandy raced off.
She didn’t have to wait long as the somewhat impetuous blond jumped up from the sofa and raced out the front door without another word.
Bashalli sat a moment thinking what she ought to do. Finally she sighed and reached over to pick up the telephone.
“Hello, Tom? It’s me and I have one of those things going on you ought to know about.” She told him of the hurricanes and the probable destruction, and about his sister’s declaration she wanted to do something.
“I really can’t blame her, and it would be wonderful for her to experience helping people, but I fear she might get in over her head. What can I do?”
With so much on his plate at the moment dealing with the Mars situation about the last thing Tom wanted was to have to try to talk his sister out of doing good. But, he knew her about as well as even their parents and understood she could be bull-headed and race headlong into something she wasn’t prepared for.
“Let me talk to dad and then mom. They probably need to get her and Bud over for dinner and have a serious discussion.”
After he hung up he turned to his father. “What would you say if your daughter wanted to run to the airport and fly straight down into the aftermath of a hurricane in Mexico?”
Damon looked at him with a bemused look until it hit him this was exactly the sort of thing Sandy might do.
“I believe I heard you mention a dinner and conversation. Want to be invited?”
Tom sighed. “I’ve got so much going on, but it is family…”
“I feel the same way. This air ferry project for New Zealand is stretching me almost to the breaking point, but she is family as you said. Let’s call your mother and figure this out.”
Anne laughed when they explained what was going on, or about to. “She called me from her car and is on her way over here to enlist me into her forthcoming battle against you men. I’ve been sitting here waiting for the screech of her tires out front and the beating of her feet up the walk. I’ve already come to a decision if you are willing to hear about it and back me up. I think it is darned near time our daughter got the dose of reality she desperately needs to finally grow up. She’s made some great strides in the past year or so, but I think, and as long as we can come up with ways to make her safe, she needs this trip as much as the people down there will need her help.”
Dinner was arranged for that evening and Anne had to hang up as Sandy had indeed come to a screeching halt outside.
When they all congregated at the Swift home at six-thirty that evening everyone could see the gleam in Sandy’s eyes. It was almost as if she were possessed by the idea.
“Okay. I know you all have been talking behind my back, and believe it or not, that’s okay. But, no matter what you have decided, I have made up my mind and I want you all to listen!”
Before Anne went to the kitchen with Bashalli to bring dinner to the table, Sandy had outlined the sort of terrible destruction that would happen—real and imagined—and the need for people to come help. She had also told them at least four times she was going whether anyone approved or not.
“Bud won’t tell me no because he is worried I’ll get angry with him and make his life a living hell,” she explained as they sat down, “but I wouldn’t do that to you Bud. Promi
se. I really, really, really want you behind me on this.”
Damon, who had been keeping silent throughout the previous twenty minutes, spoke.
“I need for you to give us all a list of the things you can do. Not the things you imagine you might do but real things and practical things. So?”
She bit her lip and Bashalli found that she was shaking in anticipation of Sandy having an outburst and not being able to answer the question.
But, her sister-in-law surprised her.
“Five things come immediately to mind. First, they will need pilots to fly supplies in and injured people out. If I take one of the large flying ducks down, perhaps with another pilot, filled with medical supplies we can drop that off and start evacuating. Second,” and she ticked it off on her right middle finger, “I have, like Tomonomo, a rare blood type and can give blood at least three times in two weeks as long as I take along that liquid Doc Simpson devised to act as a blood replacement. In fact, I called him and he said he can package up enough of the stuff to give to at least fifty people the ability to donate for those in need of one or two pints of blood.”
She looked carefully at her father and then her mother. Both were contemplating unknown things, but neither looked outright against the plan… so far.
Now, she looked at her brother. “If someone else can take the Sky Queen down, we can pack it with supplies like food and clean water plus one of those cadaver cars to search for bodies.” To her surprise he looked at her with a level of admiration she’d never seen before. He smiled and nodded making her heart rate soar with glee.
“Okay, third is I can teach a few people to fly. At least enough to take off and land in places where they can get some passengers out medical help. Well, maybe not that one, but it’s in my pocket.” She detailed the fourth and fifth things, both having to do with her organizational skills and ability to communicate precisely with the people back in Shopton to arrange for things that could be flown in by others. “And, I speak passable high school Spanish,” she concluded.
Anne Swift looked at her daughter. “You do realize that the typhoid you’ll likely encounter can be cured in you, but could harm your ability to have children at some point, don’t you?”
A tear cascaded down Sandy’s left cheek. “Yeah. Doc did tell me about that.” She turned to Bud. “What do you think? We’ve been trying and trying and trying to have a baby and there are a lot of things in our way, medically speaking. If I come back and Doc says absolutely no way, do you think we could love a baby we adopt?”
It was a true shock to her mother. Never, ever, had Sandy Swift or Sandy Swift-Barclay ever spoken of any baby other than one she and Bud conceived. Adoption had been mentioned several times by others once it became clear they were likely destined to not have one of their own, and Sandy had just shaken her head.
Now, something was going on with her daughter. Something potentially wonderful. It was something to nurture.
“Sandra Swift? If you really mean that then you will find no more grateful and happy grandmother for your baby than me. However you have a child, I am one-thousand percent behind you and love you!”
Now, all three women began crying tears of happiness and relief.
Tom looked at Bud and then his father. Both men were rolling their eyes but Bud had a grin on his face.
The truth was he and Tom had talked about the possibility of adoption and the inventor knew his brother-in-law was quite happy with the possibility.
The older Swift got up to retrieve a box of tissues from which they each handed several of to their wives. Tears soon degenerated into giggles as Anne, Sandy and Bashalli realized what they must look like.
“Okay. It won’t have us eating too cold, as it is a thick and gooey, chicken and noodle casserole, so let’s get this dished up and eaten,” she told them all.
Conversation turned back to the proposed humanitarian mission and all were surprised at how much Sandy had already thought out, and how well she’d planned.
As they took their first bites of dessert Damon came to a conclusion.
“Sandra? I am going to authorize the trip. I will call Senator Quintana to see if the Feds will kick in for the medicines and food you may deliver in a large cargo jet and at least one other cargo jet will take down. My bet is the vertical landing and take-off capabilities will allow you to get very close to the actual need and not have to trust that trucks will get to their destinations.” He made an “ahem” sound before continuing.
“I am also going to ask that Harlan assign a few of his people to go down with you both for your safety and to protect our jets, but also will authorize them to carry e-guns to ensure there are no attacks. Far too many unscrupulous people are out there who might try to take advantage of the situation. And, a woman.” His look said there would be no arguing with that.
Sandy popped up from her seat and into her father’s lap, hugging him around the neck and planting several kisses on his forehead and cheek.
“Thank you, thank, you, thank you, Daddy!”
By the following afternoon plans for Sandy’s trip was well on the way to being finalized, Damon received a message requiring him to head back to New Zealand, and Tom and Bud found themselves sitting in the big office having lunch.
Speaking around a mouthful of Texas-style chili now Chow was back at work, Bud asked, “So, what do you think of Sandy and her sudden ‘It’s not all about me’ change?”
Tom swallowed his latest bite before answering. “I would have to say that my sister continues to surprise me. Heck, Bud. Both our wives surprise me. First Bash decides she wants to learn to fly and now can handle anything we make and even is an FAA flight away from qualifying on anything up to four engines the airlines fly. Then, Sandy goes and gets all ‘gotta help them’ with that undersea hydrofarm we built and now this.”
Bud nodded but it was obvious the trip wasn’t the only thing on his mind.
“And,” Tom continued, “if you mean the baby thing and not feeling like she has to prove everything works, I have to tell you she started stating with complete surety back when she was fifteen that you and she would have at least two babies. Oh, and get married and I believe she meant that part first.” He smiled at the flyer.
“I’d like to have a boy, like little Bart, but that part has never been as consuming for me as it is for San. I hope this change is forever with her because I want her to be happy, and that needs to include a baby at some point.”
Tom wanted to ask if Bud and Sandy had talked about this, but the dark haired man beat him to it.
“Sandy and I have been looking into options for the past five months or so. She will admit her first preference is to have a baby herself, but is coming more and more to the realization that if you have enough love for a baby it shouldn’t matter. My feeling as well.”
They dropped the matter for the time being as they discussed their forthcoming trip back to Mars.
“At least with Sandy down in Mexico I won’t have to parry any ‘Why can’t I come with you?’ questions,” Bud said with a little grin. “Although, she didn’t say a word about it when we went up the other week. Hmmm? Do you think she’s also giving up on her wanderlust?”
Tom nodded. “Perhaps, but for now we have a trip to plan, and I have to come up with something more to do out there than park the Challenger next to Phobos and poke at it with the repelatrons. I’m thinking that we have to go up again and land on Phobos to take a close look.”
Eagerly, Bud asked, “And get out and walk around and be the first people to ever set foot on it? Sort of like Armstrong and Aldrin? You and me; intrepid space explorers planting a flag and golfing and everything?”
Tom found himself rolling his eyes. “Sure, flyboy. All except for the golfing and doing anything more than possibly planting a flag to claim that moon in the name of the Mars colony and taking a good look around. I can’t bring myself to believe this sudden inward motion is a natural phenomena. There ought to be some sign of what caused
it. Or, is still causing it as the last thing I heard it has begun coming closer again.”
* * * * *
For eleven days Tom worked on a list of all the equipment he might need for the exploration of the tiny moon.
For five of those North America watched as first Hurricane Oswaldo and then Hurricane Persiphone battered their way across the lower Baja peninsula and then into the western portion of Mexico. Most attentive of anyone in Shopton was Sandy Swift-Barclay.
Damon’s call to Senator Quintana had paid off with the promise that as soon as it was safe, Sandy and her two cargo jets could come down to Andrews Joint Air Base to take on ninety-two tons of food, water and medical supplies. The only stipulation was they also had to provide transportation for a 50-person medical emergency response team.
That was going to require a third jet, or to get permission to take Enterprises’ two largest cargo jets and not just one large and one medium-sized aircraft.
Trent made nearly a dozen phone calls to reschedule or reroute materials and finished goods that would normally use both of the largest jets, but by the end of day four he had performed a miracle and Sandy had her two big jets.
When she appeared in front of his desk, a certain determined look in her eyes, he gulped before finding her stepping around the desk, taking both of his hands and pulling him up and into a tight hug. That was followed by a warm kiss on his right cheek that made him blush and flustered the normally stoic man for the next hour.
“Thank you, Trent! You are a marvel and a treasure and I’ll bet your work will end up saving a lot of lives!”
The next morning clearance to proceed was received along with a special Federal designation for both jets that would see them allowed anywhere they wished to fly and land. Fifteen minutes later Sandy kissed Bud for the twentieth time before running, tears streaming down her face, for the lead jet.
She and Zimby Cox would pilot it with Red Jones and Deke Bodack traveling off their right wing. In one, one-hundred tons of food, water and medicines while in the other the supply helo, CadaverCar, the fifty-person humanitarian team and another twenty-three tons of food along with a portable desalination plant to continuing the supply of drinking water.
Tom Swift and the Martian Moon Re-Placement (The TOM SWIFT Invention Series Book 23) Page 7
