r."

Tom studied the blips for a while. "Guess you're right. It's sure not a
flock of sea gulls!" The young inventor frowned.

"Worried, Tom?" Bud asked quietly.

Tom shrugged. "It could be a routine military flight."

He increased speed and climbed for altitude. But the blips on the
radarscope showed that the planes were coming steadily closer. It was
clear that they were targeting on the Swift cargo jet.

Tom switched on the radio. Presently a voice crackled over their
headphones:

"Calling Swift jet!" The voice was heavily accented.

"Brungarians!" Bud muttered.

Tom made no reply to the radio challenge. Again came the voice:

"Calling Swift jet! Make emergency landing on the water!"

Tom's only response was a fresh burst of speed. Gunning the jet motors,
he sent the big cargo ship arrowing forward at supersonic velocity.

"There they are!" Bud cried suddenly. He pointed to a cluster of silvery
glints in the sky at seven o'clock.

Tom zoomed downward into a billowing cloud bank. It was a feeble hope
and Tom knew it. His only real chance now was to outrun or outmaneuver
the marauders.

The slim hope faded as they emerged from the cloud cover moments later.
The enemy planes were not only still dogging them, but closing in
rapidly. Sleek, needle-nosed attack ships, they appeared to have
seaplane hulls.

"Wow! Those are new ones!" Bud gasped.

"Our last warning to Swift jet! Hit the water or be shot down!" came the
enemy voice.

Tom raced along, his mind searching frantically for a method of escape.

Bud switched off radio power momentarily. "If we're going to be
hijacked, skipper, let's ditch your invention before it's too late!"

Tom shook his head stubbornly. "Why should I let those pirates bulldoze
us? Actually, I think they're after Exman!"

This last thought was a hunch that had just occurred to Tom. It was
clear that their foe had learned about the arrival of the energy from
space. "But so far," Tom reasoned, "there's no cause to suppose they
know anything about the quake deflectors."

Stalling for time, Tom switched on the radio again and spoke into the
mike. "Swift jet to attack planes. Our home base is picking up every
word of your threats. Shoot us down and America will consider it an act
of war!... Care to risk it?"

There was a moment's silence, then a reply. "War, you say? How can there
be a question of war? War against whom? You do not even know our
national identity!"

"Don't