Tom Swift and His Deep Sea Hydrodome Read Free Page B

invention of Tom’s. "So what’s the idea? Are you planning to put up a hydrodome next to the helium well?"
    "That’s what I’m thinking," confirmed the young inventor. "Of course the depth is much greater, and there could be some other problems, but that’s the direction I’m heading in at present." He added that for the moment he would put exploring the sunken city on the back burner. "This helium-well project needs to have top priority."
    "Are you sure it’s helium?"
    "Come with me, pal, and I’ll test it out!"
    The twosome took a ridewalk moving ramp to the chemical technologies building, where Tom released the contents of the flask into the storage chamber of an electron-wave analysis instrument patented as the Swift Spectroscope. Studying the output, a broad grin of excitement inched across Tom’s face. "It’s helium, all right, and very pure too! This is wonderful!"
    "Still," remarked Bud doubtfully, "all that water…"
    "It’ll be a tough nut to crack," Tom agreed.
    Back in Tom’s office, the two close friends chatted about Bud’s vacation in his home town. "Nothing earthshaking," he said. "My Mom and Dad are well, and I spent some time with big brother Dave and big sister Shelley. ’Bout the only interesting thing happened just before I flew back."
    "Tell me," Tom urged, and Bud began to narrate the story.
    One day, as the California sun had slouched toward twilight, Bud, dressed-up for an evening at the theater, had found himself with free time on his hands. Deciding on impulse to push the envelope a bit, he had wandered into the bar adjoining the lobby of the San Francisco Holliston, an elegant old downtown hotel. "I wondered if I’d be carded," Bud said to Tom. "But the bartender didn’t blink an eye, even when I asked for a softdrink."
    As he sat sipping his drink—and hiding it with his hand—an attractive young woman some ten years Bud’s senior had drifted down gracefully onto the bar stool next to him. She was well-dressed and well-coiffed, and just as Bud was noticing these facts she turned his way and said hello. Casual conversation grew lengthier ("Really, I was just being polite," Bud explained.) and finally the woman, Amelia, asked Bud if he’d care to join her later in the evening for dinner. Her tone, and the glint in her eyes, suggested that she had more in mind than friendly conversation.
    "I really can’t," the youth had said, trying not to turn red or sound flustered. "I have plans—theater tickets."
    "Then tomorrow night," Amelia had persisted.
    "Listen, I—I’m really flattered, ma’am, but—see, I—"
    She had rolled her eyes, not in hurt disappointment but in wry resignation. "I see. San Francisco! I’m definitely fishing in the wrong waters."
    Bud had laughed. "No, no, it’s just that—I’m not really as old as you think I am. I’m staying with my folks, in fact, and…" He had lowered his voice. "Actually, I shouldn’t even be sitting here."
    "Oh my. You’re that young? Here I thought you were just cute." She had laughed gently—but still with a certain rueful tone.
    "I’d say she saw through your sportcoat right down to those football shoulders of yours," commented Tom. "She had you pegged as an athlete who likes to play for fun!"
    "Yeah," Bud admitted. "I can’t help it, you know. But she was a nice lady. She laughed at my jokes. Now that’s important, Tom!"
    Eventually Bud had explained that he lived in Shopton, New York, and was employed as a pilot by the famous Swift Enterprises invention firm. "I’ve even been up in space with Tom Swift," he had said immodestly.
    "Up there?" She had pointed out the window. At the end of a canyon of tall buildings, a bright bead of light was illuminating the darkening sky. "Some day, when I have grandchildren, I’ll tell ’em that when old Grandma was a little girl there was only one moon in the sky. They probably won’t believe me."
    "Uh-huh. I was on the Nestria expedition, actually," was Bud’s suave reply. The