Tom Swift Jr #35, Chapter 13: Mach 15

At exactly six o’clock in the morning the thunderous refrains of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture woke Tom Swift Jr. out of a sound sleep. The moment his alarm went off the young inventor yawned, stretched, and got out of bed. This is it – the big day! he thought excitedly to himself.

He quickly showered, got dressed in one of his signature striped t-shirts, and went into the kitchen to get breakfast. The Swifts’ living quarters at the Institute were not nearly as spacious as their home back in Shopton, but they were large enough to meet their needs. The only other person currently out of bed was his father, who was reading the morning paper and eating a bowl of oatmeal. He was already dressed in a black suit and tie.

“Good morning, Son,” his father said, looking up from the Shopton Evening Bulletin. His father had his hometown paper delivered to the Institute. Since it traveled by mail it was always a few days behind, but he liked to follow the local events in Shopton. “Are you ready for the big day?”

His son nodded as he took two slices of wheat bread and put them in the toaster. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I think. I’ve done everything I know to do. All that’s left is to try it and see what happens.”

His father nodded. “You’ve demonstrated remarkable caution in the development of the Sampson engine. The Eagle is definitely ready for its first flight. Ned Newton is eager to get his hands on your hyperplane – he’s convinced that there is a significant market for it.”

“How is his work on the Falcon coming along?” Tom asked.

“Building nuclear jet engines is not something he’s ever had to do before, but he’s made great strides in perfecting an automated manufacturing process for them. By the end of the year his aircraft production facilities should be able to start making Falcon-class aircraft in production quantities. Of course, the Eagle will take a bit longer since it is so much more difficult to produce. Washington is particularly interested in it, however, so he might have some additional resources.”

“Washington?” Tom asked. He removed the two slices of toast from the toaster and put butter and cinnamon on it. “As in the federal government?”

His father nodded as he finished his oatmeal. “They feel that the hyperplane could give the United States a strategic advantage in the world. The military will almost certainly be our first customers.”

“I can see that,” Tom said. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the kitchen table. “Still, I’m not too keen at having the hyperplane turned into a weapon. I believe science should be used for the peaceful advancement of mankind. I’m not a weapons scientist, Dad.”

Tom Sr. smiled. “No, Son, you’re not. In my day I invented quite a few inventions for the military – everything from airplanes to war tanks to giant cannons. There are times when one must put aside the role of the scientist and seek the welfare of the country.”

“But yet you never gave the government your electric rifle,” Tom pointed out.

“No, I never did,” Tom Sr. said thoughtfully. “Of course, there are reasons for that. But Tom, you’re not going to eat only toast for breakfast, are you?”

Tom finished his last piece of toast and got up from the table. “I’m afraid so. I’ve got a million things to do today! Breakfast will just have to wait.”

“Just don’t let Chow catch you!” Tom Sr. warned. “He’ll have a fit.”

Tom laughed. “I can hear him now! ‘Well brand my suspenders, but you ain’t had nothin’, Tom! Don’t you take another step until I rustle you up some vittles. It ain’t natural.'”

Tom’s father laughed with his son. “Charles Winkler is truly a remarkable person. So are you off to work?”

Tom Jr. nodded. “If you don’t mind. Is there something you wanted?”

Tom Sr.’s eyes twinkled. “No, but there’s something you wanted.” He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, which he handed to his son. Tom gently opened the box.

“It’s beautiful,” he said softly. He removed a thin golden ring from the case and held it up to the light. The diamond sparkled with unusual brilliance.

“You can be proud of that stone,” his father said. “The jeweler said that it was a very good diamond. Not flawless, but of a high quality. The final weight of the finished gemstone was just over a half-carat.”

“Irene will love this,” Tom said, as he put the ring back the case and put the case in his pocket. “Especially when she finds out where it came from. After the hyperplane test this afternoon we’re going to Nitro for dinner. There’s a little steakhouse on the north side of town that has a beautiful outdoor dining area. That’s where I’m planning on giving it to her.”

“She will be delighted,” Tom’s father said. “You’ll have to tell me all about it. But don’t let me hold you up, Son. After all, the all-time speed record is waiting to be broken!”

“Aren’t you the one that set that record, Dad?”

His father smiled. “What can I say? Records are made to be broken. But now it’s your turn to get in the history books!”

After saying goodbye to his father Tom made his way to his laboratory, where he put the ring in his private safe. I’ll come back here and get it right after the hyperplane test, he thought. I don’t want to risk losing it or have Irene find it too soon!

Tom had just had time to take out the day’s agenda and begin going over the flight checklist when Irene entered into the laboratory. “Good morning!” she said brightly. “Are you ready for a day of excitement and adventure?”

Tom looked up at her, surprised. “Why hello there, Ace! I wasn’t expecting you this early. I didn’t think you’d be coming in until seven-thirty.”

“It is seven-thirty,” Irene pointed out. “Where have you been?”

Tom glanced down at his watch in surprise. “Oh. I guess it is. Whoops.”

Irene laughed. “Your mind really is in the clouds, isn’t it? But I don’t blame you. So how can I help?”

Tom and Irene spent the rest of the morning preparing for the hyperplane test. Some time was spent coordinating ground personnel and making sure that they had sufficient flight clearances, but the rest of the morning was spent examining the hyperplane itself. They had spent the past few days going over every system in the nuclear-powered aircraft, testing them one-at-a-time and looking for any signs of trouble. The final check was not completed until well after one o’clock.

“I think it’s as good as it’s going to get,” Tom said wearily. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud, bellowing voice behind him. “Well brand my biscuits, but there you are, son! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Tom and Irene whirled around to see Chow standing behind him. He was wearing a bright red-and-yellow shirt that had an eagle emblazoned on it. The outfit was topped off by an enormous white hat and bright yellow cowboy boots.

Tom grinned. “That’s quite a shirt you’ve got there, Chow! Are you trying to give the sun a run for its money?”

Chow smiled proudly. “I picked up this little thing in San Antone,” he replied. “It’s quite a number, ain’t it?”

Irene tried not to laugh. “It is remarkable. But you said you were looking for us?”

“O’course I was! You were supposed to be at lunch an hour ago. There’s a big dinner before the flight, remember? Your Dad and everybody was there. Except fer you two.”

Tom’s eyes widened. He slapped his forehead “Oh no! I can’t believe I forgot. Please tell me they’re not still waiting on us.”

Chow shook his head dourly. “Nope. The meal’s done finished. But I saved a few bites fer the two of you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Irene apologized. “We’ve been trying to complete our work on the plane. We just finished a few minutes ago. Time just kind of got away from us.”

“Shucks, it’s ok,” Chow replied agreeably. “It ain’t like it’s never happened before. But say, is this yer plane?” Chow looked at the enormous craft in front of him with a mixture of awe and respect. The Eagle was a black aircraft 107 feet long and shaped like a long, narrow triangle. The triangular body spread out near the end of the craft and gave the impression of small, triangular wings. The Sampson engine was mounted on the bottom of the fuselage and ran nearly the entire length of the jet.

“Yes, this is it!” Tom said proudly. “If all goes well she will become the world’s first hypersonic jet in about two hours from now.”

“Technically, hypersonic speeds start at Mach 5,” Irene explained. “This plane should be able to go well beyond that. We’re hoping to reach a top speed of Mach 15, which is about 12,000 miles per hour. At that speed she could cross the entire United States in less than 15 minutes! It would only take about two hours to circle the entire planet.”

“If that don’t beat all,” Chow said with amazement. “Why, you could be plumb out of Arizona before you’ve had time to blink.”

“And that little fact has led to no end of headaches,” Tom sighed. “The government doesn’t want us leaving US airspace during this initial test, so we’re going to have to essentially circle the country and come back. In thirty minutes the Eagle should be able to get from the Institute to Shopton and back. At least, that’s the plan.”

“But it ain’t got any wings,” Chow said, perplexed. “How does that work?”

“The fuselage acts as a lifting body,” Tom explained. “The plane doesn’t need wings because, essentially, the entire plane acts as a giant wing. It won’t be very efficient at low speeds but once we reach supersonic and hypersonic velocities it will provide plenty of lift. And the entire plane has been coated with Tomasite to keep the enormous heat generated from air friction from melting the plane.”

“I kinda get it,” Chow said dubiously. “Are you gonna fly it yerself?”

Tom shook his head, laughing. “Oh no. I’m sure I could with some training, even though it’s quite different from anything I’ve flown before. No, Mark Spring is going to have that honor.”

“In fact, we should probably go meet him now,” Irene said, looking at her watch.

“Not so fast!” Chow said warningly. “You two pardners have got to eat something.”

“Ok,” Irene relented. “I’m sure you’re right. Lead the way!”

* * * * *

Two hours later, Tom Swift Jr. once again found himself in the flight control tower at the Institute’s airport. With him were Irene Goddard, Tom Swift Sr., and two flight control technicians.

“I was kind of expecting more people to be here,” Irene remarked, as she and Tom took their positions at the control desk.

Tom’s father spoke up. “There are a great many people interested in this test, Irene. But since the majority of the flight will take place far away from the Institute there did not seem to be any particular advantage to assembling in this room.”

“Even tracking the flight by radar is going to be a headache,” his son said. “We’ve had to patch into all kinds of systems that span from here to Shopton. And radio communication will be another challenge, for similar reasons. But I think we’ve got all that worked out.”

“I figured it would be a pain,” Irene said teasingly. “That’s why I let you handle it and stuck with testing the hyperplane’s flight systems. I’ll take a nuclear reactor over government red tape any day of the week.”

Tom’s father snapped his fingers. “Say, isn’t the plane coated in Tomasite? How is it even possible to track it on radar?”

“We’re using a kind of transponder,” his son explained. “Essentially the plane is going to tell us where it’s at. Otherwise you’re right – there’d be no way for us to tell what was going on.”

“The Eagle is ready for takeoff,” one of the flight controllers said. “We are awaiting your signal.”

“Ground crews are standing by,” another controller told him. “We have clearance for takeoff.”

Tom took a deep breath. “Then let’s go for it,” he said quietly.

The flight controller relayed the message to Mark, who had already taxied the plane to the runway. After receiving word he fired up the Sampson engine and began speeding down the long airstrip.

Tom’s father spoke up. “It takes a lot of ground to get the plane in the air,” he noticed.

Tom nodded. “I’m afraid so. The plane has to be going at a pretty good clip before the lifting body starts working. It’s one of the trade-offs of its design.”

A moment later the sleek black hyperplane left the ground and soared into the air! Its pilot quickly brought the jet up to speed and effortlessly broke the sound barrier. He set course for Shopton and leveled the jet’s speed off at Mach 3.

“Mark is standing by,” the flight controller said. “He is waiting for your order to take the plane to Mach 5.”

“The reactor is looking good,” Irene said. “No problems so far.”

“The telemetry data is good too,” Tom agreed. He monitored the jet for a few minutes and then nodded. “Tell Mark to bring it up into hypersonic territory and then hold it there for a while.”

The flight controller relayed the message. Over the next few minutes Mark slowly brought the jet up to nearly 4,000 miles per hour. Everyone held their breath as plane crossed the threshold!

“The plane has reached Mach 5,” the flight controller said. “The Eagle is holding course.”

“Amazing,” Tom’s father breathed. “The first hypersonic flight! Mark is now traveling faster than any human being has ever traveled before.”

Tom watched the data on the screen in front of him carefully. “The hull temperature has risen, but it’s well within the predicted range. The plane looks like it’s still stable. Irene?”

“The reactor is working fine,” she told him. “We still have plenty of power available. We could hold this speed for weeks.”

“Mark may not appreciate that,” Tom said dryly. “But I agree that things are looking good.”

Once again Tom waited a few minutes, but at last he gave the order that everyone had been waiting for. “Tell Mark to push the plane to its limit. Let’s see what the Eagle is capable of doing.”

As soon as the order was relayed the plane began accelerating. Tom watched anxiously as the plane exceeded Mach 7, Mach 8, and then Mach 9. When the plane hit Mach 10 Tom spoke up again. “Tell Mark that everything is still looking good from our end. We’re not seeing any signs of problems.”

Mark continued to accelerate the plane. A few minutes later it hit Mach 14!

“The plane’s acceleration is slowing,” Tom noticed. “The Sampson engine is working pretty hard.”

Irene nodded. “We have plenty of fuel, but the engine can only produce so much thrust.”

Still, the Eagle continued to accelerate. As the plane crossed over into New York State’s airspace it finally reached Mach 15.

Everyone cheered. “Well done!” Tom Sr. said. “Well done.”

“It took a bit longer than I thought, but we got there,” Tom Jr. said. “Mark’s going to turn the plane around now and head back. We’ll see if he can maintain that speed on the entire return journey or if he’ll need to back off a bit. This will be an excellent test of the engine’s performance and reliability.”

Tom watched the radar scope as the Eagle made a lazy turn over New York State and started heading back to southern Arizona. He also kept a close eye on the telemetry data. “The plane is running pretty hot, but it’s within tolerances,” Tom said at last. “I’m not seeing any signs of hull failure.”

He glanced over at Irene, who was intensely staring at the monitor in front of her. Tom suddenly felt a chill. “What is it?” he asked her.

“Something’s not right,” Irene said uncertainly. “The reaction is producing too much heat. I don’t like it.”

“Are you sure?” Tom said. Fear clutched his heart. He nervously glanced over at her monitor and frowned. “We performed ground tests on that engine at productions levels this high and higher. It worked fine then.”

“But look at the temperature of the reactor’s Tomasite shielding,” Irene said, pointing to a number on the screen. “We shouldn’t be anywhere near that hot at these power levels. I mean, I realize it’s nowhere near Tomasite’s melting point, but I don’t understand it. And I don’t like not understanding it.”

Tom stood up so he could get a better view of the data on Irene’s screen. His eyes suddenly grew wide. “The problem’s not the reactor – it’s the Tomasite! This is really, really bad.”

“Are you sure?” Irene asked dubiously. “What makes you think that?”

“We’re using some of it to generate power for the plane’s electrical systems, right? Well, look at that efficiency ratio. It”s losing its ability to convert the heat into electricity! It’s getting warmer, and I’d bet anything its chemistry is changing. The Tomasite is losing its ability to function.”

Irene looked horrified. “But that’s not possible! We tested for this, Tom. How could this happen?”

Tom shouted at one of the flight controllers. “Tell Mark to cut speed immediately and land the plane! I don’t care where he lands it, but he’s got to get it on the ground immediately. Take emergency action now!”

As Tom and Irene watched, the Eagle rapidly lost speed. But, to Tom’s horror, the plane’s energy level dropped even faster.

“He’s losing power rapidly,” Irene said tersely. “Electricity production is falling off a cliff, and the reactor shielding temperatures are up sharply. The Tomasite is about to fail.”

“But he’s still going Mach 10!” Tom said with fear in his voice. “If he ejects at that speed he’ll be killed instantly. The plane has got to hold together!”

Then suddenly, to Tom’s horror, the telemetry data stopped. Tom and Irene’s monitors went dark, and the plane disappeared from radar.

“We’ve lost radio contact,” one of the flight controllers replied. “What should we do?”

“He’s lost power,” Tom whispered. “There’s no way he’ll be able to control it now. He was going too fast.” He buried his face in his hands.

A thousand miles away all of the electrical systems on the Eagle suddenly went dead, causing the plane to instantly spin out of control. A moment later the jet slammed into a Kansas prairie at a speed of more than five thousand miles per hour.

The impact was so severe that it broke windows in cities more than a hundred miles away. In seconds the wide, grassy prairie was turned into an enormous crater that stretched for several miles. By the time the shattered remains of the aircraft finally stopped moving there was nothing recognizable left of it.