Tom Swift Jr #35, Chapter 21: Final Flight

Irene Goddard waited anxiously for the hydraulic lift to carry her nuclear hyperplane up to the ground floor of the hangar. She could feel a tense knot forming in her stomach. The girl knew that it would only be a few moments before the Brungarians realized they had been tricked, and while her plane was bulletproof it was not invincible. Even more pressing was the urgent need back home for the precious cargo that her jet was carrying. Everything depended on her reaching New York before the Swift reactor went critical and wiped out the entire city. As the elevator slowly lifted the jet to the upper level she wondered if it was already too late.

Although it seemed like an eternity it only took her a moment to taxi outside the hangar, get onto the runway, and blast into the clear blue sky. Irene ignored all pretense of caution and forced the hyperplane up to Mach 15 as quickly as possible. Just before the Brungarian outpost dropped off her radar she saw a blip begin to move away from the fortress at Mach 3. She smiled. I knew I could depend on you, Bud, she thought to herself. I’m sure you will take good care of Tom for me. He’s going to need someone like you in his life.

As Irene set a course for the Swift nuclear plant she went over what had just happened. When she found Xanthus’ notes in his office Irene immediately realized that he had not realized the engine leaked radiation. After talking to Tom’s dad the girl now knew that the madman had never cared about the nuclear jet. While he had built a copy of it to appease his Brungarian masters, his focus had been exclusively on the Swift reactor. He had simply not spent enough time testing the jet to realize the serious flaw in its design. He probably assumed that whatever Tom Swift designed would work perfectly, Irene thought wryly to herself. I wonder if it even occurred to him a Swift could be wrong. He just accepted the unfinished blueprints without question.

When Irene finally reached the hyperplane she knew she would only have a few minutes before Tom and Bud joined her, and she used that time to check the plane’s Sampson engine. Her hunch proved to be correct. Xanthus had indeed built the jet according to Tom’s original specifications. The fix required an extensive redesign of the entire engine, and it was immediately obvious that Xanthus had not done that. That was when Irene decided to take matters into her own hands and fly the jet herself.

As the plane left Brungarian airspace and headed east toward the United States she performed a few rapid calculations in her head. The cockpit did not have a Geiger counter, but since she had helped design the engine she could easily estimate the radiation dose she was receiving. At Mach 15 it would take less than 45 minutes to reach the great American city, but by then the damage would be done. By the time I get to New York I’ll have been exposed to at least 100,000 Rad, she thought to herself. I’ll have 24 hours at most. But the effects of radiation poisoning are going to set in soon and I may not be conscious long enough to land the plane. That leaves me with a problem. How can I drop the cargo if I black out?

The teenage girl tried to put all of that out of her mind and focus on the mission at hand. She was already thundering over Asia, and within a few minutes she would be over the Pacific. If I’m not going to be conscious when I reach New York I’ll have to find some automatic way to drop the cargo, she thought to herself. I can’t trust that I’ll be able to do it. There’s just too much at stake.

Irene glanced at her current position. I’ll be in radio contact of the California Tomasite plant in just a few minutes. I can use them to reach Tom’s father. But first I’ve got to arrange a timer for my package drop.

She set the plane on autopilot and walked back into the cargo area to do a little work.

* * * * *

Tom Swift Sr. was still in the reactor control room. For the past hour he had fought vainly to shut down the reaction but his efforts had been useless. Even his attempts at rewiring the control computer had come to nothing. Xanthus simply did too good a job, Tom thought to himself. He could feel the weight of the world bearing down upon him. Millions of lives were just minutes away from being vaporized by technology that he invented. The stress was incredible. He had never felt so completely helpless.

As he vainly tried to think of a solution the plant manager rushed in. “You have an urgent phone call,” Tony Markos told him. “It’s Irene Goddard! She’s on her way here – and she says she can help!”

Tom leaped out of his chair and ran over to the phone. He picked it up with a trembling hand. “Hello?”

“Tom?” a voice said a moment later on the other end of the line. “This is Irene. Can you hear me?”

“There’s a lot of static, but I can hear you,” Tom replied. Despite misgivings he started to feel a glimmer of hope. “Where are you?”

“I’ve just left Asia and am over the Pacific Ocean,” Irene said. “This message is being relayed through California. I wanted to let you know that I’m bringing you the spare parts you need to fix your reactor.”

Tom felt his pulse begin to quicken. “What kind of spare parts?”

“Xanthus built a duplicate reactor in Brungaria,” Irene explained. “He used it to figure out how to sabotage yours. I have his unsabotaged version of your electronic brain on board a jet and am flying your way. I should be there in less than half an hour.”

“Half an hour!” Tom exclaimed, surprised. “How can you possibly get here so quickly?”

“Xanthus had a hyperplane that I decided to borrow,” Irene replied. “I didn’t think he would mind. After all, I’ve heard the authorities have him tied up at the moment. He won’t be missing it.”

Tom’s heart started beating rapidly. He glanced at the controls and performed a few quick metal calculations. “If you can arrive in the next thirty minutes we may still have a chance of saving the city,” the middle-aged inventor said slowly. “I can’t promise anything, but it’s worth a try. It’s the only hope we have.”

“I’ll do my best,” Irene said.

“Are Tom and Bud with you?” he asked.

Irene hesitated. “They’re on another flight,” she said at last. “Bud found another nuclear jet in Brungaria that he decided to liberate. They’re flying a bit slower than me but they’ll get to New York safe and sound.”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief. “I still can’t believe you went to Brungaria. That was a very foolhardy thing to do, young lady.”

“Let’s save that talk for later,” Irene said. “Besides, it was your son’s idea. I’m going to go but I’ll contact you again when I’m almost there. I’m planning on performing an air drop since there’s no runway on the island.”

“We’ll have a crew standing by to receive it,” Tom promised. “I can’t thank you enough, Irene. You’re giving us hope. We had just about – ”

“Thanks,” Irene replied. She hung up.

* * * * *

Several hundred miles to the north, George Dillard, the chief radio officer at Swift Enterprises, received an urgent radio message from Irene Goddard.

“Irene!” George said, surprised. “Where are you?”

“I’m about 40,000 feet over the Pacific ocean,” she replied. “I’ve just talked with Tom Swift in New York. He should have his spare parts in time to save the day.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” George replied, with genuine relief in his voice. “You’ll have to tell me all about it someday. But what can I do for you?”

“I want to leave Tom Jr. a message,” she said.

“Sure,” George said. “Just let me get a pencil.”

“Oh no no no no,” Irene replied quickly. “I want to leave an audio message. A recording. And I want it delivered to him when he reaches the plant later today.”

“Oh,” George said, surprised.

“And it’s highly confidential,” Irene added. “Top-secret. For his ears only. Not even you have sufficient clearance to listen in. Can you help me?”

“Sure,” George said. “Just give me a moment to set up a secure recording system and patch you in. I just don’t get asked that very often.”

“Maybe one day they’ll have an easier way to do it,” Irene said. “I can see a huge future in audio messages. It could be big.”

When George came back on the line he heard Irene coughing. “Are you ok?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine in a few minutes,” Irene said weakly. “Is it ready?”

“I’m connecting you now,” George said. “And I will personally make sure that the young Tom gets it when he returns. That is, I’m assuming he is returning.”

“He is,” Irene said. “And thanks.”

After George dropped off the line Irene took a deep breath and began talking.

* * * * *

About twenty minutes later the phone rang at the Swift nuclear plant. Tom Swift Sr. immediately grabbed the phone and shouted into the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey Dad!” Tom Swift Jr. said. “You certainly seem excited. Is everything ok?”

“Son!” he said, surprised. He calmed down a bit. “Where are you?”

“High over Asia,” Tom replied. “Bud and I have stolen a nuclear jet from Brungaria and are on our way to Shopton. We should be there in about four hours or so. Bud’s doing the flying.”

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Tom said with relief in his voice. “Irene had assured me that you were all ok but it’s good to hear your voice.”

“So you’ve been in touch with her?” his son asked.

“She called a while ago and explained what was going on,” his father said. “We’re expecting her to arrive in a few minutes. We’re not going to have much time. Everything I know about my reactor tells me that it’s just moments away from destroying itself. It could go at any time. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that we are sweating bullets here.”

“Did Irene tell you what she did?” Tom asked.

His father hesitated. “She told us that she stole a hyperplane and a computer from Brungaria and was flying here as fast as the jet could carry her. Is that what you’re talking about?”

“Did she tell you anything about the hyperplane?”

“Not really,” Tom’s father said. “The conversation was kept pretty short. Why?”

“The version of the plane that she has was based on my earliest design,” Tom said with a strained voice. “It was before I discovered the radiation problem.”

Tom’s father gasped. “Are you certain?”

“I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure,” Tom said. “When she calls back can you ask her? I mean, it is possible that Xanthus found the problem and fixed it, but I think the odds are against it.”

“I sure hope you’re wrong,” Tom’s father said. “But I’ll ask.”

“Thanks,” his son replied. He disconnected the line.

His father put the phone back on the receiver. A new fear crept over him. Oh, Irene, what have you done?

* * * * *

Irene awoke with a start. She struggled to open her eyes and glanced down at her position. The girl gasped when she realized that she was now soaring over the United States. I must have passed out, she thought to herself. The girl struggled to breathe. I feel so sick.

The early symptoms of radiation sickness were already taking their toll on her short frame. She felt severe nausea and was having trouble staying conscious. Her thoughts were erratic and she found it almost impossible to focus on flying the plane. My head is killing me. I feel so weak and disoriented.

Irene looked at the controls in her hands and forced herself to concentrate. With all of her remaining energy she corrected her course and began to cut her speed. There’s no way I can drop the package at Mach 15. I’ve got to slow way down if the computer is going to have any hope of surviving the drop. But slowing down means taking more time, and we don’t have more time.

After she made the final adjustments to her course and speed she activated the timer. The cargo bay doors would open after a set number of minutes. If she calculated everything correctly the package should drop close to the nuclear plant. I wish I could double-check my figures but I just can’t think anymore, she thought sadly. But there is one more thing I have to do.

* * * * *

Once again the phone rang in the reactor control room, and Tom Swift Sr. picked it up. “Hello?” he said in a nervous voice.

“Hey,” Irene replied. Her voice was weak and broken. Tom knew immediately that something was wrong.

“Irene? How are you feeling?”

“I’m almost there,” Irene said, ignoring his question. It took her a surprising amount of effort to talk. Her voice came out slow and slurred. “I’ve set up a timed drop. You should be able to track the package on radar after it leaves the plane. It should land near you.”

“We’ll be watching for it,” Tom replied. He hesitated. “My son called. He wanted to know if there were any problems with your hyperplane.”

“So he figured it out,” Irene said. Tom heard her cough for a minute, and then regain control. “He’s a smart kid. Yeah, the jet has some problems. I think this will be its final flight.”

“Where are you going to land?” Tom asked quietly.

There was silence for a few minutes. “I won’t be conscious that long,” Irene said quietly. “Sorry.”

“Can you eject?” Tom asked. There was no answer. He could hear the roar of the nuclear engines over the connection, but the girl did not make a sound. A few minutes later he tried again. His voice shook as he spoke. “Irene? Irene, please – ”

A voice at his elbow interrupted him. “Sir, I just picked up an object on radar! It looks like it’s our package.”

“The plane must be right over us!” another voice called out.

Still holding onto the phone, Tom rushed to the window and looked outside. Far overhead he could see the hyperplane streaking by into the distance. With a heavy heart the inventor stood there and watched as the jet rapidly lost altitude. As it approached the horizon a thunderous sonic boom shook the entire building. What am I going to tell your parents? he though to himself, as he realized what was going on. What am I going to tell my son?

Then it happened. At the far edge of his vision he saw the jet spin out of control and slam into the ocean. A huge plume of water and flame immediately shot into the air. It looked almost like an atom bomb had gone off. At the same moment the phone went dead. Seconds later the thunderous sound of an explosion reached them.

A feeling of coldness gripped him as he watched his son’s world come to an end. All hope and joy left him. He felt as if he would never care about anything again. A deep despair he never knew existed suddenly overwhelmed him.

There was silence in the control room. “The package has landed,” the plant manager told him. “It almost missed us entirely, but it set down on the extreme western edge of the shore. Men are there now picking it up.”

“Thanks,” Tom replied. He forced himself to tear his gaze away from the ocean to the business at hand. But the man could not take his mind off of that final image of the jet crashing into the ocean. It looks like you got your revenge after all, Xanthus, Tom thought bitterly.