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us, Hank. Got a project for you."
    When Hank emerged from the inter-deck ladder shaft, Tom explained: "I think there’s something in front of us, something we can’t see or detect with our instruments, that could destroy the whole ship if we blunder right into it!"
    Hank whistled. "The same thing that blew up the supply capsule?"
    "Probably."
    "Then what’s your idea, Skipper?"
    "To do like lost hunters do when they don’t want to step into a bear trap." Tom adjusted the deck computer to bring up a current ship manifest. "We have four of the Donkeys down in the hangar-hold. Good."
    "Er—just what do hunters do?" Hannah whispered to Bud. "To avoid bear traps?"
    "They poke ahead in the underbrush with a branch," was Bud’s answer. "I see what Tom’s got in mind."
    The Repelatron Donkeys were small flying platforms, elevated and propelled by single repelatrons, that Tom had used for survey work on the moon. Now Tom asked Hank to join him below in the vehicular hold, to assist him in making some quick, jerry-rigged modifications to the Donkeys’ control circuitry. When they returned to the command compartment, Hank reported: "Not much to it. Now we can control ’em remotely from the main board."
    Tom rolled-up the hangar’s protective doors and the conveyors pulled the four transports out onto the exterior deck. At a signal they rose gently, then curved downward toward Little Luna, splaying out in different directions.
    "So you think they’ll blow up?" Jeffers asked Tom.
    "Or worse!"
    The crew waited tensely, minute after minute.
    The lengthy vigil was finally broken by an announcement from Tom. "Crossing the hundred-mile altitude mark," he stated. "I have Donkey number four a few dozen miles in the lead, roughly in the direction of Base Galileo—not too close, though."
    "But it’s getting close to where the megascope beam started failing," Bud explained to the others.
    Eyes on the telemetry readouts, Tom initiated a countdown. "Eighty-eight miles... eighty-one... seventy-six ... "
    Blinding light suddenly flooded the command deck!
    The crew staggered back, shielding their eyes. Tom adjusted the variable transparency settings for the viewpanes, blocking out more of the glare.
    "Man, I think we just got some data!" Bud gulped. "You Dad’ll be pleased!"
    "Hard radiation, very high intensity," reported Hank Sterling. He looked up at Tom. "It’s what we saw in the Space Kite. Same overall profile."
    Tom gave a grim nod. "Then that settles it. This is the same phenomenon. And I’m sure it’s something artificial, a weapon of some kind."
    They continued to study the radiation intently. But suddenly the crew gave a start as a strange thrumming sound filled the deck! "It’s coming from outside , through the hull!" declared Hannah in amazement. "But what could possibly—?"
    "Ionized particulates, spreading out from the blast in concentric waves," Hank stated. "From Earth it must look like a fireball against black space, just like the shuttle explosion."
    "And the instruments recorded an EMP effect," added Tom. "We’re lucky our Tomasite-Inertite coating protects us." He noted that the blast, impressive as it was from the viewpoint of the Challenger , was much smaller than the prior one. "It shouldn’t have caused the same big effect on communications and defense systems."
    "Well, lemme tell ya, it was more than big enough for me!" Bob Jeffers commented.
    One by one the remaining Donkeys met their doom with blazing brilliance. "It’s clear that what we have here is a spherical barrier enclosing Nestria like a bubble," pronounced Tom Swift. "Anything that comes into contact with the barrier disintegrates completely—converts to energy. Evidently the barrier wasn’t wholly stabilized when the supply rocket hit it, but as it reached its fullest extent it began to fuzz-out radio transmissions, including the microwaves my space prober uses."
    "Then you think the barrier may be some sort of electromagnetic field, Tom?"