Tom Swift and His Repelatron Skyway by Victor Appleton II

He’s not Ulsusu."
    This brought a shrill laugh from the boy. "Oh no? Um, um, um! Too bad. He looks like one."
    "Forget the thing. Let’s get out of here," Bud urged. "The locals here are crazy!"
    "Akomo can get it for you," the lad piped up, dashing forward. A furious discussion ensued at high pitch. Finally the boy, Akomo, turned to the two Americans. "He will not sell to you, sirs, but he will sell it to me for a big price."
    "What size of big ?" inquired Tom.
    "In American money, four dollars and eleven cents. Originally eight thousand, before I bargained. But sirs, he has dealt with Nigerians, and will not accept checks or credit cards. Cash only, no returning."
    Tom couldn’t help grinning at the boy’s industriousness. The three-way transaction was accomplished, and in a minute Tom had the idol in his hand. "And here, Akomo—five dollars for helping us."
    "Five? All right, better than sick chickens." The bill disappeared into a hidden pocket at lightning speed. "Now, sirs, I offer myself to you, for a guide and to translate. I am clever and a good speaker of all languages. And look!" He pulled up his long, caftan-like shirt. "American jeans!"
    Unimpressed, Bud tugged on Tom’s elbow. "C’mon, Skipper."
    Tom held back. "Wait. Akomo—where do you live? Nearby? With your parents?"
    The boy chortled with glee. "Parents? No parents! Akomo sleeps where he wants, eats what he wants. Some day—Cal Tech!"
    Tom laughed. "Tell you what. My friends and I are about to leave on a flight across The V’moda, then on into East Ngombia. We may need to ask some questions of the people who live on that side. As you’re an expert in just about everything, Akomo― "
    "Hah ah!—you have heard of me already!" he shouted. "Yes, many yesses. Take me to your Sky Queen , Tom Swift!"
    "How did you― "
    "Akomo knows all things."
    "Don’t tell me you really plan to trust this kid, Tom!" Bud protested in a whisper.
    "Hey!" exclaimed the boy. "I am historically trustworthy and honest, a joy to be with, and a good friend to my friends."
    "What are you to your enemies?" Tom asked.
    "I have none," was the reply. "They are all dead!"
    Bud groaned. " Trouble !"
    Within the hour the mighty Sky Queen levitated on its lifters and began the flight across The V’moda—slow and low, deliberately. Huttangdala vanished below the horizon behind them, and soon its skirt of small villages gave way to mountains.
    "We call them ‘the cradle’," said Akomo, gazing through the lounge viewports as if jet flight were the oldest of old hats. "Two sides. And inside the cradle is The V’moda. Trees, trees everywhere. And then the savages!—all over the place."
    "Are these savages Ghiddua or Ulsusu?" Ted Spring asked dryly.
    "Not either! Um, um, um. They are called Wangurus."
    Tom sat across from the conversation. "Do these Wangurus recognize the laws of the central government?" he inquired.
    Akomo gave a yip of derision. "Wangurus don’t recognize anything, sir of sirs. Not at all never! If you go into The V’moda, you will be lucky to get out with your skull still inside your skin!"
     
CHAPTER 11
THE V’MODA
    THE FLYING LAB topped the mountains, and Tom and his crew got their first look at The V’moda. A carpet of every imaginable shade of green choked the broad valley all the way to the distant horizon, where the other side of "the cradle" could be made out, a dim silhouette in the steamy haze. "Lookit all them colors!" enthused Chow. "Reminds me—I don’t wear green near enough."
    "It’s strange," murmured Ted Spring. "Exotic."
    "You do not recognize it?" asked Akomo.
    "Should I?"
    "Ancestral memory!—I saw the words on television."
    The engineer and astronaut snorted. "My memories are mostly running around Shopton after a little tow-head named Tom Swift!"
    While Bud guided the Sky Queen according to the map Mr. Jombilabu had given them, Tom headed down to a small compartment on the bottom deck, just in front of the hangar-hold. After