Tom Swift and His Repelatron Skyway by Victor Appleton II Page B

blunt-spoken one. Chief-Lieutenant Fokguomo told some stories of childhood in western Ngombia under the dictatorship, concluding with a few harrowing anecdotes of life in Imbolu. Tom had wondered if either man would mention the subversive R’na Inbimah, the man who had replaced Mr. Kwanu and then vanished. But it became apparent that the government had circulated a cover story about the incident without detail, and Tom decided it might be wisest not to go further—or to question Mr. Zerth about how an experimental Afro-Metals alloy had wound up on the tip of a deadly spear!
    "Our friend Akomo here thinks we should be on the lookout for some characters called Wangurus," remarked Ted Spring. His words were casual enough; but Tom noticed a penetrating expression on his face. He seemed to be studying the two guests, discreetly.
    "The Wanguru—yes, a problem," conceded Fokguomo. "Even worse than the Ulsusu when it comes to becoming modern and leaving the old ways behind."
    Zerth made a condescending noise. "Backwards folk, every one. Look at them crosseyed and they go for their spears. Won’t get with the program—won’t join the New Progressive Ngombia." He spat out a couple of syllables in Dutch. "That’s what we call them—it means ‘the Reticents’."
    "Worse than that," muttered Akomo.
    Zerth reacted with sneering indignation. "I see the boy is picking up the modern attitude fast! The Wangurus are the same race as the Ulsusu, their country cousins left behind in the swamp. I’d advise all of you to dispense with your chic liberalisms, your American ‘political correctness’. Here in Ngombia it gets you nothing, nothing but a sneak attack in the night. And your nice white heads up on a pole!"
    Chow’s gulp was almost loud enough to echo off the bulkheads. Tom’s eyes locked on Pieter Zerth’s. He held up a hand. "I’d describe it as pinkish-brown rather than white , Mr. Zerth. But thanks for the warning."
    And Ted added, "And me, I don’t even come close. Guess they’d just throw me back, huh?"
    "Perhaps I should apologize for offending anyone’s enlightened all-men-are-brothers sensibilities," grated the Dutchman. "I suppose I’ve rather lost touch with civilized custom, living here. So easy to degenerate into crudeness." Looking down at his dinner plate, he resumed eating.
    Bud broke the awkward silence. "Tom and I were told of monsters running around in the V’moda swamp."
    "Silliness," snorted Fokguomo, "spread by enemies of the New Progressive Ngombia to frighten away development. There are those who will profit and gain power if the two provinces remain separated."
    Tom left the table for a moment, returning with the ivory figure he had purchased. "Either of you know what this is supposed to be? I think it’s newly carved."
    "That? Nothing—imagination," pronounced the Chief-Lieutenant all too quickly.
    "Oh now, come come, Ata!" Zerth remonstrated. "Boys, what you have represents N’ka-Dindo, the Son of the Father of Crocodiles."
    "Mighty fancy name," Chow noted faintly, with no enthusiasm.
    "Uoshu is the Father of Crocodiles," piped Akomo excitedly, "yes yes indeed! This is his son!"
    Fokguomo spoke more grudgingly. "Uoshu is the devil in the old tribal religions, like your ‘Satan’. He is the father of all evil beasts."
    "But that particular evil beast is the very worst," continued Zerth. "Not a mere croc, but an offspring of the Father himself, rather a crown prince, hie ? Bigger than a tree, ferocious like a lion, able to rear up like a snake—as you see."
    Bud spoke hopefully. "But... it’s just an old story."
    "I have seen him!" exclaimed Akomo.
    Tom smiled. "Really? Where?"
    "With my eyes!"
    "You’re saying you actually saw this crocodile guy?" demanded Bill Bennings.
    "Of course! I have seen everything." Then Akomo noticed Tom’s reproving eyes, and made a slight amendment. "I mean, with my own eyes in here ," he said, pointing at his skull, "when the ones outside are closed."
    Tom