Irene glared at the guard at shouted at him in Spanish. “Where have you been, you incompetent fool? Can’t you see that someone has broken into this office? Where is security? Why has no one answered my calls?”

The guard’s eyes widened in surprise. He, too, switched to speaking in Spanish. “There has been a fire in the hangar, madam. It has taken all of our attention. We have still not been able to control it.”

“And so you decided to leave this entire floor unguarded?” Irene shouted. “Have you no sense?”

“We are understaffed,” the guard protested. “All of our forces have accompanied our leader to America. There is only so much we can do.”

“It’s not enough,” Irene snarled. “I will see that this incident gets reported.” She gathered up the papers on the desk and put them in a folder, which she took with her as she walked toward the door. “Now, escort me to the hyperplane. I must get this information to our leader immediately.”

The guard looked at her and frowned. “But the hangar is on fire, madam. You know this. It will be hours before it can be put out. While it rages it is not possible to retrieve the other aircraft from the hangar’s lower levels. Besides, there is no one here who can fly the plane.”

Irene opened her mouth to protest, but the guard cut her off. “Let me see your pass. If you are one of its few pilots then you must have the clearance, no?”

The girl sighed. I knew it was too much to hope for, she thought to herself. When she could not produce a pass the guard pronounced her under arrest and escorted her to the lowest level of the base. There he locked her in a vault, promising to keep her there until Xanthus returned and decided her fate. “He will be most interested in dealing with one who attempted to steal his aircraft,” the guard explained. “Most interested indeed.”

After the metal door clanged shut and was bolted securely Irene took a look around. The room where she was being held prisoner was surprisingly large. Its floors, walls, and ceiling were all made of some kind of steel, and the walls were lined with enormous, thick shelves. There was no furniture of any kind and the only source of light was a row of light bulbs embedded high above her in the ceiling. This obviously wasn’t built to be a prison. I wonder what they stored in here. Thinking about it gave her an uneasy feeling.

Irene shook her head sadly. Great. Just great. So what do I do now? As one hour after another passed by with no sign of help, the girl began to realize that she was in serious trouble.

* * * * *

Later that morning Tom Swift Jr. slowly returned to consciousness. “Welcome back, skipper!” Bud said eagerly.

Tom opened his eyes and groaned. “What happened? Oh, my head. The last thing I remember is tackling that spy. Did he get away?”

“Yeah, but not before you got the evidence.” Bud removed the incriminating papers from his pocket and gave them back to Tom. “Right after you took it from him something ignited the gasoline in the hangar and turned the place into a raging inferno. There must have been some other explosives in there because all kinds of things started going off. You were knocked out by the blast, and Irene and I had to drag you out of there. You’ve been unconscious ever since.”

Tom winced in pain. The fire had singed in him several places, and he was covered in bruises. “You know, I am really becoming tired of getting hit on the head. I have a headache you wouldn’t believe.”

“No, I’d believe it,” Bud said. “You’ve been out for hours. I was beginning to get a bit worried about you. I would have taken you to a hospital but I didn’t see one that was handy.”

Tom Swift sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. He frowned. “Hey, where’s Irene? I don’t see her.”

“She went inside the base to look for a way to get us home,” Bud explained.

“And you let her go alone?”

Bud shrugged. “Somebody had to stay with you. We couldn’t exactly just leave you here by yourself.”

“I guess,” Tom said reluctantly. “How long ago did she leave?”

Bud looked at his watch. “Man. I guess it’s been about twelve hours now. She’s been gone quite a while.”

Tom leaped to his feet. “She’s been gone how long? Why haven’t you been looking for her?”

“Well – ”

“I know,” Tom sighed. “You couldn’t leave me. But we’ve got to find her, Bud. Something has happened to her.”

“Agreed. So what’s the plan?”

Tom thought for a moment. He looked through the trees and across the runway at the Brungarian base. “It looks like they put the fire out.”

“Yeah, they did that a few hours ago. They’ve also removed the ruined carcasses of the jets. The hangar is almost operational again. I’ve got to give them credit – they’re pretty efficient.”

“Do you think you could grab one of the guards?” Tom asked.

Bud nodded. “Probably. I haven’t seen very many of them. All I’d need to do is find one that’s by himself. I think there’s a lone guard a few hundred feet from here guarding an access door. What’s the plan?”

“It’s quite simple,” Tom said. “You’re going to dress up as a Brungarian guard and escort me inside the base, as if I was your prisoner. With his uniform, access cards, and weapon no one should look at you twice. Then all we have to do is find where Irene is being held, set her free, and go home.”

“I see one tiny flaw in the plan,” Bud replied. “I don’t speak Brungarian. English is pretty much all I know unless you count Pig Latin.”

Tom grinned. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. But I’m hoping we’ll get lucky and the base personnel will let you go about your business. I am open to suggestions, though. Do you have another idea?”

Bud shook his head. “Nope! Sounds like a plan to me. Wait right here.”

The young test pilot left Tom and walked into the trees. About twenty minutes later he returned, dragging the unconscious body of a Brungarian guard behind him. When he reached Tom he let the body fall to the ground and breathed a sigh of relief. “Man, he was heavy!”

Tom smiled. “You did good! He’s about exactly your size. You should be able to wear his uniform without any problem.”

Tom proved to be right, and a few minutes later Tom and Bud were inside the base. They had left the security guard tied to a tree so that he could not raise an alarm if he woke up. The two teenagers walked through the long concrete corridors of the base, looking for an elevator. I sure wish I could read these signs, Bud thought to himself. They passed a few people in the hallway but no one stopped to talk with them. Each person was too wrapped up in their own business to pay any attention to what an armed guard happened to be doing with an unfortunate intruder.

When they got to the end of the hallway they found a large metal elevator. As Bud pushed the button to call the elevator he suddenly heard a voice behind him. He turned around to see a large, burly guard talking to him excitedly. The guard walked up, slapped Bud on the shoulder, and grabbed Tom.

What do I do now? Bud wondered. Panic immediately gripped him, and he fought hard not to show it. A moment later the elevator doors opened and the guard pushed Tom inside. Not knowing what else to do, Bud followed. The Brungarian pushed a button on the panel and the elevator descended to the lowest level of the base. All Bud could do is stand beside Tom and wait.

When the elevator at last reached the basement the guard once again grabbed Tom and forcefully escorted him down a series of corridors. Bud could not read any of the signs but he did recognize the radiation symbol on a few doors. This must be where they do nuclear research, he thought to himself. Although they haven’t been doing much of it lately. This entire floor looks deserted! There’s not even any equipment down here.

The guard stopped in front of a massive iron door that prominently displayed several radiation warnings. He took out a key and unlocked the door, and then swung the massive vault door open. As the guard thrust the prisoner inside Bud saw that Irene was in the room!

That’s good enough for me! Bud thought to himself. He grabbed a nearby chair and crashed it over the guard’s head with all his might. The chair shattered and the guard slumped to the floor.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Irene said, as she and Tom left the room. Bud dragged the guard into the vault and then shut and locked the door behind him.

“It was touch and go there for a minute,” Bud said weakly. “When that guard came up behind me and grabbed Tom I thought for sure it was curtains. But it worked out well.”

“Are you ok?” Tom asked Irene.

“I’m fine,” Irene replied. “But your dad isn’t. He’s in terrible danger!” Briefly Irene told Tom what she had discovered in Xanthus’ office.

Tom whistled and glanced at his watch. “It’s already two in the afternoon back home. Wasn’t the plant supposed to open at noon?”

Irene nodded. “Unless something has happened it’s already online. We’ve got to reach your Dad! Maybe there’s something he can do. He’s got to be told that the plant is going to enter an uncontrollable chain reaction if he doesn’t shut it down.”

“But how are we going to do that?” Bud asked. “I mean, Brungaria is kind of far from New York. I’m pretty sure you can’t just place a phone call and hope for the best.”

Irene looked at Tom. “Well, genius boy? What’s the answer?”

Tom thought for a moment. “I think we’re going to have to do this the hard way. We’ll just have to find some radio equipment, send out a message, and hope that the United States government picks it up and relays it to Dad. I’m sure they’re monitoring all messages that come out of Brungaria. It’s not much, but it’s our only hope.”

“And, of course, we still need to find a way out,” Irene pointed out.

“One thing at a time,” Tom said. “First, let’s call Dad.”

* * * * *

Tom Swift Sr. glanced at his watch. It was fifteen minutes past four. He looked back at Xanthus, who was still seated comfortably in one of his office chairs. “So what’s the plan? Are you just going to sit here and wait?”

His enemy nodded. “It is not that I am trying to prevent you from escaping, my friend. You cannot escape from your fate. By now the reaction is too far gone. There is nothing you can do to prevent it from going critical, and it matters not where you are when this happens. The world will know that you are responsible. Your infamy will never be forgotten!”

“How long do we have?” Tom asked.

“A couple hours,” Xanthus replied. “I am not sure of the exact time. It may be sooner. But it will come.”

Tom’s door suddenly flew open and armed guards rushed in. Before Xanthus even knew what was happening he was overpowered.

Tom stood up in surprise. “What brought you here? How did you know something was wrong?”

Frank Herschell, the chief of plant security, spoke up. “The Navy just called. They told us that a Brungarian was here trying to destroy your plant. We immediately began a thorough search.”

“The Navy called?” Tom asked. “How did they know?”

“Apparently your son tipped them off. They want to speak to you immediately.”

Tom nodded. As he walked out the door Xanthus called after him. “You cannot escape! There is nothing you can do to save them.”

“We’ll take care of him,” Frank said. He sent a guard to escort Tom to the communications center, where a high-ranking officer from the Navy was on the phone. “This is Admiral Thompson,” a gravelly voice said on the other end of the line. “I trust the Brungarian has been apprehended.”

“He has,” Tom replied. “My security guards have him in custody. He will not escape.”

“Splendid! I will send some men over shortly to take him off your hands. The Armed Forces are very interested in what he has been doing. This is an international incident that will have worldwide repercussions.”

Tom spoke up. “I understand that my son told you he was here?”

“That is correct. About a half-hour ago a Navy warship off the coast of Brungarian picked up a message. Your son had infiltrated a Brungarian nuclear research facility and learned of Xanthus’ plot.”

“My son is in Brungaria?” Tom shouted. “What in the world is he doing there?”

“Apparently he went there to learn more of Xanthus’ activities. He told us that your reactor has been sabotaged and is in danger of undergoing a chain reaction that will destroy New York City. Can you confirm the safety of your reactor?”

“Give me a moment to check,” Tom asked. “I will be right back.”

“We will be standing by,” Admiral Thompson replied. “Please hurry. This is an urgent matter. If your son’s claims are true we do not have much time.”

Fifteen minutes later Tom returned to the communications center. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, Admiral. I had to make sure before I made my report.”

“I trust you bring good news,” the Admiral replied.

“I’m afraid not,” Tom said sadly. “Xanthus did his work all too well. We’ve disconnected the computer that was driving the reaction but it’s too late. The reaction is already self-sustaining and it’s slowly building. Since he sabotaged the electronic brain there is no way of telling it to shut down.”

“Can you repair the computer?” Admiral Thompson asked.

“I have no replacement parts, nor a way to make them in time,” Tom replied. “If I had several days I could find an alternate method of control, but we have less than two hours. There just isn’t time.”

There was silence. “Then we will do what we can. I will relay the news to your son. I strongly urge you to do all you can to shut down the reactor. The consequences are most dire.”

“Understood,” Tom said. He hung up and then stared into space, straining to think of a way to shut down the runaway reactor. There’s got to be something I can do, Tom thought.

His concentration was broken by another phone call, this time from Ned Newton. “Hey, Tom, I just touched down in California and I heard the news. What’s going on?”

“You mean it’s already in the news?”

“No – I got a call from the government. But it’ll be in the papers soon. Did you know they’re issuing an order to evacuate New York City?”

Tom whistled. “That’s not going to go well, Ned. People are going to panic. There is no way they can even begin to evacuate a metropolis of that size in the time we have left.”

“It gets worse,” Ned replied. “Apparently the State Department sees this as an act of war on the part of the Brungarians. My sources tell me that our armed forces are on high alert. The government is mobilizing its nuclear arsenal, Tom. If the reactor goes off they’re going to strike Brungaria with everything they have.”

“They can’t do that!” Tom gasped. “Brungaria never intended to destroy New York. Xanthus is a Haargolander, Ned. This is all about revenge for the talcap incident. The Brungarians were just in it to steal our nuclear secrets. They’re not looking for war.”

“That’s not how the President sees it,” Ned said. “Xanthus was working for the Brungarians. They financed him and they provided support. None of this would have happened without them.”

“But no one can win a nuclear war!” Tom protested. “If we strike them they’ll strike us back. The exchange could end civilization as we know it.”

“I know,” Ned replied. “That’s why you’ve got to stop your reactor from going off. You’ve got to, Tom. If you can shut it down then the whole thing will blow over and we’ll live to see another day. If you don’t then the world will end tonight.”

“But I can’t shut it down!” Tom replied. “It can’t be done, Ned. There’s nothing I can do.”

For the next several hours the Polaris followed the stolen nuclear jet as it streaked through the stratosphere, never getting any closer but also never dropping further behind. Most of the trip passed in silence as the occupants of the plane simply waited it out. After what seemed like ages Bud finally spoke up. “There’s something! It looks like our prey is slowing down.”

“Where are we?” Tom Swift Jr. asked.

“We’re just entering Brungarian airspace,” Irene said crisply. “Since we haven’t been shot down yet I’m going to assume we haven’t been spotted.”

“Good old Tomasite!” Tom said warmly. “You know, I really like using our enemies’ tricks against them. They used a Tomasite-cloaked jet to invade our base, and we’re about to return the favor.”

“So it would seem,” Irene said, sighing. “I still think this is a very bad idea, but we’re here so let’s get it over with.”

Bud began easing off the throttle and slowing their jet down. A few minutes later he reported that their enemy had landed on what appeared to be a secret airstrip hidden in the mountains.

“What should we do?” Bud asked. “Do you want me to land?”

“Not yet,” Tom said. “Let’s circle the area. Maybe we can see something.”

Irene shook her head. “It’s midnight in this part of the world, Tom. The sun won’t rise for at least six hours. There’s no way we can see anything, especially at this altitude. Besides, this area of Brungaria has some of the most rugged and impassible mountains in the world. Even with radar it will be almost possible to find anything.”

Irene’s misgivings proved to be right. Bud circled the area several times but could not make out anything that appeared to be a covert base. Even the airfield was completely hidden. They only way they even know it existed is because they had watched a plane touch down there.

“Do you see anywhere else we can land?” Tom asked.

“Nope,” Bud replied. “Not unless this plane can land vertically without a runway.”

“It can’t,” Irene replied.

“But that’s a terrific idea!” Tom said thoughtfully. “If I ever build another nuclear-powered airplane I’ll make sure it has jet lifters. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that in the first place.”

Irene spoke up. “Well, skipper, the fact is we don’t have jet lifters so we’re faced with three choices. One, we can land on the runway. Two, we can find another runway in some other part of the country and then try to hike back into these impassible mountains. Or three, we can turn around and go back home.”

“That about sums it up!” Bud agreed.

“I say we land,” Tom said at last. “We’ve wasted too much time as it is. If we want to have any hope of recovering that information – to say nothing of my plane – we need to act now.”

Irene looked at Tom and frowned. “You do realize that they’re going to see us when we land, don’t you? Tomasite doesn’t make the plane invisible or stop people from hearing it. We’re going to be noticed, and the people who notice us are not going to be happy about our arrival.”

“Then we’ll have to make the best of it!” Tom said cheerfully. “We do have the darkness on our side. We can’t see them, but they can’t see us either.”

“You’re the boss,” Irene said at last. “Take us down, Bud.”

Bud nodded and cautiously flew the plane down into the mountains of northern Brungaria. Since it was pitch black he was forced to fly by his instruments and trust that what worked for the stolen plane would work for them. As the plane came uncomfortably close to the ground, however, he saw that the runway was indeed dotted with lights. He breathed a sigh of relief and landed the plane. As it reached the end of the runway and began to come to a stop he saw a series of buildings that had been built into the side of the mountain. One of them had a set of massive steel doors that had been slid open. Inside was a large, well-lit room that appeared to contain several aircraft.

“It’s the Freelancer!” Bud gasped, pointing. “They’re taking it into that building!”

Irene pointed to a flashing yellow light on the console. “We’re being hailed. It looks like someone noticed that we’ve arrived and wants to know what we’re doing here.”

“Ignore it,” Tom said curtly. “Bud, drive in after them. The pilot must still be in the plane. All we need to do is get into the hangar, board that plane, overpower the pilot, and fly it back.”

Irene opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, but decided against it. Instead she reached into the back seat, opened a crate, and pulled out a grenade launcher. As she loaded the weapon Bud taxied their plane into the hangar behind the stolen jet. From his vantage point he could see that the hangar was nearly deserted. To their right were two men that appeared to be mechanics, and at the far end of the hangar were three armed guards that were keeping watch by a door. The mechanics were sitting at a table playing cards and ignored the two jets that had just landed. The guards, however, were gesturing excitedly toward the Polaris. As the two jets came to a halt they began running toward them!

“Let’s go!” Tom said. “Bud, you stay here. Irene, you’re with me.”

“Aren’t you going to take a weapon?” Irene asked.

“I’m going to fly the plane,” Tom explained. “Just cover me.”

Irene shrugged and grabbed a revolver as a backup weapon as the two jumped out of the plane. The moment they got out the guards stopped in surprise. One of them drew a weapon and started firing at the two teenagers. Tom dove behind the Freelancer for cover while Irene fired the grenade launcher at the far end of the hangar. A moment later there was a deafening explosion! A cloud of smoke filled the hangar and debris rained down from the ceiling, temporarily shielding them from the oncoming guards.

As Tom raced toward the cockpit of his stolen jet he noticed that the explosion had scattered the guards, who were now running for their lives. Then he saw something that made his heart stop. The explosion had also blown a huge hole in the far wall, and liquid was pouring out of several shattered pipes. Even from this distance Tom recognized the smell. Irene had ruptured a major gasoline pipeline! The highly flammable liquid was gushing all over the hangar floor and would reach them in seconds.

Behind him Tom heard screams as the mechanics ran for their lives. Then the cockpit of the Freelancer opened and the spy leaped out, with his attention on the gasoline that was rapidly approaching his plane. Tom caught the man off-guard and knocked him off his feet.

As Tom wrestled with the man he heard gunfire. The guards were still shooting at them! Irene pulled out her pistol and fired back, and the guards dove behind some crates for protection. As the spy desperately tried to get away Tom reached into his jacket and grabbed the incriminating evidence that he had traveled halfway around the world to get.

Tom never found out exactly what happened next. One moment he was struggling with the spy and the next moment he was blown into the air by a thunderous explosion! In a split second something had ignited the gasoline and turned the entire hangar into a raging inferno. The room was instantly filled with flames! Something in the far corner of the room exploded, and the fire spread out of control.

A dazed Tom felt someone grab him and pull him away from the stolen jet. Then he lost consciousness.

* * * * *

“Is he hurt?” Irene asked.

“He’ll live,” Bud said confidently.

The two of them were outside the Brungarian base. When the explosion knocked Tom unconscious Irene had tried to drag him out of the fire. Bud left the doomed Polaris and came to her aid, and the two of them were able to carry Tom across the airfield and hide in a grove of trees. From their vantage point they could see that the entire base was going up in flames. The fire was so hot that they could feel its heat radiating from several hundred feet away.

“There goes our ride home,” Irene said, sighing. The fire had completely destroyed their jet and every other jet in the hangar.

“But we’ve got the evidence,” Bud pointed out. He gingerly pried the now-singed papers out of Tom’s hand.

“Hang on to those,” Irene said. Bud nodded and stuffed them inside his pocket.

“So what do we do now?” Bud asked.

Irene thought for a moment. “Are there any more nuclear jets back in California?”

“Nope,” Bud replied.

“Then that’s out,” Irene said. “I guess we’re just going to have to find another way to get home. There’s got to be some other way to get out of these mountains.”

“Now is a perfect time to look,” Bud pointed out. “It’s going to take them hours to get that fire under control – if they can do it at all. This is a perfect opportunity to sneak around and look for a way to escape.”

“Someone has to stay with Tom,” Irene pointed out. “He’s in no shape to be doing anything and there’s no telling how long he’ll be unconscious. I really wish we could get him to a doctor.”

“I’ll flip you for it,” Bud suggested. “The winner goes and looks for help, and the loser stays with Tom.”

“Fair enough,” Irene replied.

Bud took a dime out of his pocket. “Heads or tails?”

“Tails,” Irene said without hesitation. Bud flipped it, and they watched it land on the ground.

“Tails it is,” Bud said sadly. “Are you sure you won’t let me go?”

“Positive,” Irene said. She handed Bud the grenade launcher and gripped her pistol tightly. “I wouldn’t recommend using that, but you’ve got it if you need it.”

“Right,” Bud said. He hesitated just a moment. “And by the way, please take care of yourself. I don’t want to have to explain to Tom what happened to you, if you know what I mean. That’s just not a good way to start a lifelong relationship.”

“Of course,” Irene replied. “I’ll be back. But it may be a while.” As a group of Brungarian soldiers desperately tried to fight the fire she quietly crept across the airfield and headed toward the buildings. Within a few minutes she was completely out of sight. As she disappeared Bud wondered if they would ever see her alive again.

Under the cover of darkness Irene crept toward the imposing concrete buildings. She had to admire the way they were camouflaged. The complex had been impossible to spot from the air and under normal circumstances it would have been difficult to see even from the ground. Only the light of the fire enabled her to see her way.

She soon reached the side of the mountain. After looking around to make sure that no one was nearby she opened a metal access door and stepped through it, quietly closing it behind her. Inside was a long, dimly-lit concrete tunnel that seemed to stretch endlessly into the heart of the mountain.

Keep it together! she told herself. Act like you belong here. Just go about your business. You can do this! You got what you came for, Irene. Now you just need to find a way to get everyone back home.

Irene cautiously walked down the long, empty corridor, straining to listen for the sound of oncoming footsteps. There were few doors along the grimy passageway but none of them looked interesting. She spotted some signs along the wall but they were all in Brungarian. And to think I took Spanish in school, she thought sourly. Figures.

As she continued walking into the mountain she noticed a door with an air vent on the bottom. On a hunch she opened it and found her suspicions to be correct. It was a maintenance closet! Inside were rusted shelves lined with cleaning supplies. She quickly stepped inside, turned on the light, and closed the door behind her.

No uniforms, blast it, she thought to herself. She sighed. I’ll have to make the best of it, I guess. She took a pair of rubber gloves from a cabinet and put them on. Next, she donned a hat and put on a dirty apron. The closet was full of cleaning supplies so she grabbed a mop bucket, filled it with water, and grabbed a mop as well.

As she was preparing to leave she heard footsteps approaching! She froze. Through the vent in the bottom of the door she saw a figure step into view. To her horror the figure stopped right in front of the door! Irene stood perfectly still as the the doorknob began to turn. A moment later the door opened and an elderly man blinked at her in surprise.

Gathering all of her nerve, Irene glared at him and snarled. The man took a step back, startled. He mumbled something in Brungarian, closed the door, and walked away.

Oh boy, she thought to herself. Let’s not do that again.

After she regained her composure Irene reopened the door, wheeled the mop bucket outside, and closed the door to the supply closet. She then began pushing it down the long, deserted corridor. After what seemed like an eternity Irene reached the end of the passage, and as she expected there was a metal elevator in the far wall. She pushed a broken button and waited, gently fingering the pistol that she carried.

A few minutes later the elevator dinged and the doors rattled opened. To her enormous relief there was no one on board. She wheeled the mop bucket onto the elevator and glanced at the controls. The base had six different levels. Two were above her, and three were below.

Let’s go up, she thought to herself. Hopefully that’s where they keep the important things. She pressed the top button and the doors clanged shut. A moment later they reopened, revealing yet another long, deserted concrete corridor.

As she stepped out of the elevator and looked around she began to get nervous. Just where is everyone? I mean, I know there’s a fire, but this is ridiculous. Are they all in bed, or are they off doing something that I should know about?

The hallway branched off in three directions. After looking around Irene spotted what looked like an important office at the end of the hall to the right. She confidently headed in that direction. When she reached the door she smiled in satisfaction. I may not be able to read Brungarian, but I know the name Xanthus when I see it!

She tried to open the door but found it to be locked. After verifying she was not being watched Irene broke the glass door with her mop, reached in, and unlocked the it. As she opened the door she frowned. Drat – his office is carpeted! No one will believe I’m here to mop a carpeted floor. Time to adopt a different disguise.

Irene walked back down the hall, found an unlocked office, and hid her disguise there. She then returned to Xanthus’ office, shut the shattered door behind her, and turned on the light.

After enduring the drabness of the rest of the base she was surprised at the quiet elegance of the office. The floor was covered with a thick purple carpet and the walls were lined with a strange wood she had never seen before. An elegant, hand-carved desk was in the middle of the room. On the wall hung many pictures of what appeared to be a South American countryside. A large bookcase took up much of another wall and was filled with books written in foreign languages. She was not surprised to see that one entire shelf was devoted to Swift Enterprises Monthly.

Irene walked over to the desk and sat down in the plush leather chair that was behind it. The first thing that caught her eye was a calendar that was lying on the desk’s surface. She glanced over it, not expecting to be able to read it, but found to her surprise that it was written in Spanish.

That’s weird, she thought. Why would a Brungarian not write in his native language? She leaned over it to get a closer look. Hmmm. It looks like tomorrow’s date is circled – well, I guess technically it’s today, seeing how it’s about 1am. I wonder what ‘New York’ means?

Irene suddenly gasped. New York! That’s where the Swift nuclear reactor is being built. It goes online tomorrow! I’ve got to find out more. What is Xanthus planning?

She tried to open the drawers of the desk but found that they were locked. To her surprise, though, one of them had been left unlocked. The drawer was filled with snack food, but at the bottom was a sheaf of coffee-stained papers.

Irene took them out and spread them over the desk. Like the inscriptions on the calendar, the notes were all written in Spanish. The dialect was a little different from what she had learned in high school but it was close enough to enable her to understand it. After a few minutes she was able to piece together what she was looking at. As she already knew, the papers confirmed that Xanthus had indeed stolen the blueprints for the Tomasite formula, the hyperplane, and the Swift nuclear power plant. The pages were engineering critiques of the stolen blueprints, filled with design changes that Xanthus was considering making.

Irene stared at the notes thoughtfully. Xanthus isn’t just critiquing Tom’s design. He’s offering suggestions on how to build the stolen inventions! You don’t suppose he actually built them, do you? The girl shook her head in amazement. Of course he did! Why else would he steal the blueprints? Did you think he was going to frame them and hang them on his wall?

As she read through the pages she suddenly remembered her doubts about the Tomasite formula. Acting on a hunch, Irene flipped through the documents and saw extensive notes on the production of Tomasite. She read them over carefully. When she realized what Xanthus had done she began to panic. Oh no. He did modify the formula! I’ve got to warn Tom. He’s got to stop the plant from going online! If he doesn’t the whole city will be destroyed. I’ve got to contact him!

Her concentration was broken when a voice suddenly called out to her. She looked up and saw that a soldier was standing in the doorway, yelling something in Brungarian. The soldier was aiming a gun right at her!

“I think that went rather well!” Ned Newton remarked to his friend Tom Swift Sr.

Tom nodded absently. The two men had been in New York City all day and had spent the evening at the Ritz Carlton hotel, attending a celebration hosted by the state governor. Dignitaries from all over the country had flown in to attend the black-tie affair. Everyone wanted to be at the invitation-only event to wonder at the latest miracle from Swift Enterprises. The following day would see the opening of the world’s first commercial nuclear power plant, and Tom Swift Sr. himself would be there to bring online his greatest invention. Even for Swift Enterprises this was a bold step into the future.

The press had been talking about the new power plant for days, running stories about the wonder of the atomic age and the grand promise of cheap, clean electricity that was now just around the corner. The coverage had finally pushed from the headlines all mention of his son’s accident with the hyperplane, a fact that still weighed heavy on his mind.

“I wish my son had been here,” Tom said at last, as the two men left the hotel and walked into the street. A doorman called a cab for them, and the two were soon on their way to another five-star hotel just down the road.

“Did you remember to invite him?” Ned asked.

Tom smiled wryly. “I did indeed, but he was not interested in coming. From what I could gather he is still very upset over the hyperplane. He definitely took its failure personally, and I really don’t blame him. I would be upset too.”

“You did what you had to,” Ned replied, sighing. “It was really unfortunate, especially since the Falcon was such a success. We actually had customers lined up to purchase as many of them as we could produce. I don’t even want to think about how much money we lost on that when the government forced us to cancel the product! Maybe we can revisit it one day, but right now the world just isn’t ready.”

“Perhaps,” Tom said. “But what if Irene was right? What if we did just give up too easily? Never before in the history of Swift Enterprises have we canceled a project due to public pressure. My son may have been able to perfect the jet if we had just given him time.”

“Everyone has a failure at some point,” Ned replied. “What matters is how you deal with them. Tom just needs to move past it and work on something else. After all, he’s got his whole life ahead of him.”

The cab stopped and the two men got out and walked into the hotel. When they entered the lobby a man behind the counter called out. “Mr. Swift!”

“Yes?” Tom replied as he walked over to the hotel manager.

“We have a message for you. A call came in several hours ago.” He handed Tom a sheet of paper.

“What is it?” Ned asked curiously.

“A message from your California plant,” Tom said, frowning. “Someone there wants me to go over my Tomasite formula. Apparently they’re concerned about it.”

“Oh?” Ned said. “Should I be worried?”

“I don’t think so,” Tom replied, as he folded the message and placed it in his pocket. “Whatever it is can wait until I get back to the Institute. For the next few days I’m going to be right here monitoring the operation of my new power plant, and I don’t need anything to distract me from that.” Tom thanked the manager, told Ned goodnight, and went up to his room.

The next day Tom got up early, had a quick breakfast at the hotel with Ned, and then headed out to the plant. Ned had some business to take care of but he was still able to show up several hours later. The plant was located on a long, narrow island just off the coast of the great American city. When Ned arrived he saw that people and vehicles were everywhere and a sizable crowd had gathered just outside the gate. As he went through security and entered the grounds he noticed that the press were already being admitted even though the actual opening ceremony was still an hour away.

Ned found Tom in the control room. To his surprise he was not giving orders but simply standing to one side and watching his employees operate with smooth efficiency.

Ned walked over to him and nodded in approval. “It looks like everything is going well.”

“It is,” Tom remarked. “The truth is we’ve been producing power since yesterday morning. It takes a lot of time to bring a reactor online. What will happen in an hour is that the power will start flowing into the city’s power grid.”

Ned grinned. “I’m pretty sure that fact is lost on the public! They seem to have this idea that at the stroke of noon you’ll push a button and everything will start humming right then.”

“With sparks flying and the crash of thunder reverberating across the landscape,” Tom grumbled. “That’s reporting for you, I suppose. But what can you do?”

“Is there any way I can help?” Ned asked.

His friend shook his head. “At this point there isn’t even anything I can do. I think everything is in place. The event itself should go very smoothly.”

Tom proved himself right. Just before noon a large crowd of reporters and dignitaries gathered in a cordoned-off section of the control room, and they watched anxiously as Tom activated a switch. Power began flowing from the plant’s reactor into the city’s power grid. When Tom announced that the plant had been brought online successfully there were cheers, and reporters began taking pictures and asking questions.

It was three hours later when security finally escorted the last reporter out of the plant. After he left an exhausted Tom sank down in a chair. Ned looked at him with a slight smile. “You never were a publicity hound.”

“It runs in the family,” Tom said, sighing. “Next time I should let our publicity department handle this.”

“I don’t think that will ever work,” Ned replied, laughing. “The press demands their famous inventor! Nothing less will do. So what are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to head to my office and get some peace and quiet. What about you?”

Ned shrugged. “I think my work here is done, old friend. If you have no objections I’ll leave the plant in your capable hands and head back home.”

Tom bade his friend goodbye and headed into his office. Once there he sat down behind his desk, took out a sheaf of papers from a drawer, and placed them on the desk. Instead of poring over them, however, he leaned back in his chair and fell asleep.

Several hours later something jolted him awake. When he opened his eyes he saw a well-dressed man sitting peacefully in a chair in front of his desk. As soon as Tom saw him a chill ran down his spine.

“May I help you?” Tom asked.

“Oh no, my friend,” the man said with a slight smile. “You have already done quite enough. It is I who am hear to help you.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need any help right now.”

“Oh, but you do!” the man said earnestly. “You do. Things have been out of balance for a very long time, and I have come to make them right again. It is time.”

Tom frowned. “Have we met before?”

The man shook his head. “I have not had that privilege, I am afraid, although you have done so much to make me who I am today. But I have had the honor of meeting your son.” He removed a business card from the inner pocket of his suit and handed it to Tom.

The middle-aged inventor looked at it and gasped. “Xanthus!”

“In the flesh,” Xanthus said agreeably. “Truly, this is a moment I have been waiting for all my life. It is the culmination of a dream.”

Tom rose out of his chair, but Xanthus waved him back. “Do not attempt anything foolish, my friend. I may look harmless but I assure you I am armed. Even if you got past me, however, there is my man just outside.”

“How is this possible?” Tom asked, as he sat back down in his chair.

“Many things are possible when one is sufficiently motivated,” Xanthus remarked. “A fact that you yourself know.”

“My son said you had an Eastern European accent,” Tom said. “But that’s not what I’m hearing.”

Xanthus smiled. “I can have one of any number of accents when it suits me. But perhaps I should explain what I am doing. I know you must have many questions for me.”

“Not really. I do think you should leave before security finds out you’re here. Things could get ugly.”

“Ah, security! They will not intrude on the Great Man himself while he rests in his office. No, my friend, they will leave you in peace.”

Tom sighed. “So what do you want? You’ve already stolen the plans for my plastic, my reactor, and my son’s jet. What else his there?”

“Bah!” Xanthus shook his head. “I wanted none of those things. I merely stole them so the Brungarians would not guess my true purpose. They are hateful, the Brungarians, but they have their uses. As long as I gave them what they needed they were quite helpful indeed. They provided all the resources I required so I could at last bring balance.”

“I knew it!” Tom replied accusingly. “The moment I saw that wooden warning you left in my office I knew exactly what was going on. Talcap is unmistakable. I would have recognized it anywhere.”

Xanthus nodded. “Exactly. I am not a Brungarian at all. I am a Haargolander. I left the piece of talcap so you would know I was coming. You cannot say I did not warn you.”

“But that was not my fault! I had nothing to do with it.”

Xanthus leaned forward. “Oh, but what happened in my country was very much your fault. You wanted wood for your Ocean Airport, and of all the trees in the entire world you decided that only talcap wood from Haargoland would suit you. So what did you do? Do you even still remember?”

“Your government wouldn’t sell it,” Tom argued. “I had little choice.”

“Not selling it was our right,” Xanthus shot back. “Why should anyone be forced to sell merely because you wanted to buy? Did you inquire to find out why my country was not interested in selling? Or, perhaps, did you investigate to see if talcap could be obtained from other countries? Or maybe you could have obtained some seedlings and grown your own. Did you do that?”

Tom was silent, so Xanthus continued. “Oh no, my friend. You did not. No, what you did was finance a revolution to overthrow the legitimate government of a sovereign nation, so that you could put into power people who were more sympathetic to your ends. That is what you did.”

“I was told there would be no bloodshed!” Tom said angrily. “What happened was not my fault.”

Xanthus looked at him bitterly. “Did you think we would not fight when a foreign power tried to seize control over our nation? Were you expecting us to go willingly as our families became slaves to a dictator? What exactly were you expecting, Mr. Swift? That you could simply do whatever you wanted and there would be no consequences? After all, if Tom Swift, the great humanitarian, wants wood then surely it is worth the lives of innocent people in a small, unknown country. Is that what you were thinking?”

Tom put his head in his hands. “What do you want from me?”

“I want balance!” Xanthus said angrily. “You cannot tell me you were not responsible for what happened to Haargoland twenty years ago. That revolution was made possible solely because of your financial support. Do you know what it did to my country?”

“It destroyed it,” Tom said quietly.

Xanthus stood up. “Do you know how many people died? Do you know how much was lost? My own brother was killed in the fighting. If it was not for you he would still be alive today.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom said. “I really am. If I could take it all back I would. But I can’t.”

“It is much too late for that,” Xanthus snarled. “Justice is balance. You destroyed my life, so I will destroy yours. You ruined my country, so I am going to return the favor. And I will use your invention to do it.”

Tom looked at him in horror. “What are you going to do?”

Xanthus sat back down in his chair and regained his composure. “You are a smart man, my friend. I believe you can figure it out.”

Tom thought for a moment. “If you melted down this reactor it would surely be a disaster, but I don’t see how you can do that. It has been designed specifically to – ” and then Tom suddenly remembered the message he had been given last night at the hotel. He froze.

“Go on,” Xanthus said encouragingly. “You are almost there.”

“You poisoned the Tomasite,” Tom said at last. “That’s why the Eagle crashed! You sabotaged the nuclear shielding as practice for your real goal – the destruction of this plant.”

“It had the side-benefit of destroying your son’s life,” Xanthus remarked. “It worked out well, I might add. I did not expect you to also pile misery onto your son, but I was pleased when you did.”

“I had no choice,” Tom protested.

“You say that a lot,” Xanthus replied. “You had no choice but to overthrow the Haargoland government. You had no choice but to destroy your son’s dreams. It simply had to be done.” Xanthus looked him in the eye. “You always have a choice, my friend. You have made your choice and I have made mine.”

“It’s not going to work,” Tom said flatly. “I hate to disappoint you, but the reaction is controlled by a computer. Even if you sabotaged the Tomasite it won’t do any good because the computer monitors the reaction and will simply shut it down at the first sign of trouble.”

Xanthus sighed. “I have the blueprints for this marvelous plant of yours. Do you think I did not realize that?”

Tom suddenly became very afraid. “What did you do?”

“Come, Mr. Swift. Is it not obvious? I simply sabotaged the computer as well. The operators will not know anything is going on, but the computer and the Tomasite are doing their work as we speak. For you see, my goal is not to simply cause a meltdown – not when I can harness your invention and cause your plant to destroy itself in a nuclear explosion!”

Tom gasped. “You’ll destroy the entire city!”

“You mean you will destroy the entire city,” Xanthus corrected. “The magic of Swift Enterprises will be blamed for destroying the largest metropolis in America. Your company will be destroyed and your nation will fall into chaos. What happened to your son will happen to you – only for you the infamy will be far worse.”

“You can’t do this!” Tom protested. “Millions of lives are at stake! What kind of monster are you?”

“That did not concern you when you overthrew the Haargoland government,” Xanthus said angrily. “Why should it concern me now?”

“Someone will find out and stop you,” Tom said desperately.

Xanthus shook his head. “It is too late for that. You foolishly decided that the entire reactor would be controlled by an electronic brain. Where are you going to find an unmodified one that you can use to shut down the reaction? Do you happen to have a spare one lying around?”

“I’ve got one at the Institute – it’s controlling my test reactor,” Tom said. “We can still stop this, Xanthus. You don’t have to do this.”

“You mean you used to have one at the Institute. I took the liberty of having it disabled yesterday. No, my friend, for you there is no hope. All you can do is wait for your inevitable end!”

“Bud Barclay,” Tom Swift Jr. said thoughtfully. “I’m afraid that name is not familiar to me. Do you work here?”

“You bet!” the young man said, grinning. “I’m a test pilot – I was just hired a few weeks ago. I’ve been testing your new Falcon-class jets. Man, are they amazing! I’ve got to hand it to you. That is the slickest kind of plane I’ve ever flown. The sheer power you’ve built into their engines is just unbelievable.”

Tom found himself grinning despite himself. “Thanks. But it wasn’t entirely my invention, of course. I couldn’t have done it without Irene.”

“Irene?” Bud asked, puzzled. “Is she your assistant?”

Tom laughed. “Not exactly. She’s an old friend. Well, my girlfriend, actually. But say, what are you doing here? Were you supposed to meet with my Dad?”

“It was the craziest thing! A guy in a red truck drove up and told me that your Dad wanted to see both of us in his office pronto. So I asked him for directions and high-tailed it right over.”

“So it was that guy,” Tom said thoughtfully. “Had you ever seen him before?”

“Never,” Bud said, shaking his head. “He seemed to know me, though. And man, what a truck! Is that some new Swift invention or something? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Tom shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. I’ve strictly been working on aircraft, not automobiles. But it was pretty sharp.”

“I’ll say! If you strapped wings to that thing I bet it could’ve taken off. You see the craziest things around here.”

“Stick around,” Tom suggested. “You haven’t seen anything yet! But you have no idea why Dad wanted to see us?”

“I’m afraid not,” Bud replied. “It’s a mystery to me.”

“Weird,” Tom said. “Then I guess there’s no use sticking around here. If Dad wants to talk to us about something I’m sure he’ll let us know. But I would really like to know why he’s not in New York.”

With nothing else to do, Tom and Bud left the office and headed back outside. There they met Irene, who was waiting for them on the steps of the administration building. She was holding a yellow folder filled with papers.

“Where have you been?” she asked impatiently.

“You’re back already?” Tom said, surprised. “I thought it would take you at least a half-hour to find those documents. We’ve only been gone a few minutes.”

“Since I knew exactly what I was looking for it didn’t take long,” Irene explained. “But I thought you’d be out there with the security guards. And who is this?”

“Oh, sorry – this is Bud Barclay. He’s a test pilot that works for the Swift Construction Company. Bud, this is Irene Goddard.”

“Got it,” Bud said. He shook Irene’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“So you have the documents?” Tom asked eagerly.

“Yeah, I do,” Irene said. She handed them to Tom, who quickly glanced over them. “The Tomasite formula looks ok to me. It’s not quite what I remember, but your Dad did spend a few months perfecting it after I left to join Project Arcturus. I would expect there to be a few differences between our lab version and what the factory produces.”

“True,” Tom said thoughtfully. “And I don’t see any rare earth elements in the process list at all. The saboteur may have just been after the hyperplane.”

“Hey Tom?” Bud said. “I hate to interrupt and all, but I think something bad is happening.”

“Oh? What?” Tom asked, looking up at the test pilot.

Bud pointed into the distance, where a sleek gray aircraft was just taking off. “Do you see that? That plane is the Freelancer. It’s the non-military version of our production Falcon-class jet.”

“I see it,” Tom replied. “It looks sharp! I like it. But what’s the problem?”

“Well, nothing, except I’m the only test pilot in the world authorized to fly it,” Bud explained. “That particular prototype has been souped up to go Mach 5. We were going to train other pilots to work with that technology, but when the Eagle crashed the entire program was canceled. I’m the only one that got the training and has flight experience with it.”

“Then who’s flying it?” Tom asked, puzzled.

“Our attacker, you dummy,” Irene snapped. “Who do you think?”

“But that’s ridiculous!” Tom objected, as the jet soared into the sky. A moment later they heard an earth-shaking boom as the jet broke the sound barrier and soared off to the west. “I find it really, really hard to believe that the stooge who jumped us just happens to be a crack test pilot.”

“The Brungarians who infiltrated the Institute and blew up your first prototype were pilots,” Irene pointed out. “And what if that guy was sent here for the express purpose of stealing that plane? It’s a new model, remember – Xanthus wouldn’t have gotten the plans for it during that raid. Maybe he was planning on stealing it some other way and decided to cut and run when he realized we were onto him.”

“I see security headed our way,” Bud said.

“Probably bearing bad news,” Tom said glumly.

Tom soon found out that Irene was right. Their attacker had headed straight to the hangar, where he managed to elude security long enough to steal the plane and get into the sky.

“We thought he would head for the gate,” the chief of security explained apologetically. “It never occurred to us that he might be a pilot. The hangar was being guarded but apparently the man had the proper authorization passes so they let him through. I’m sure they were forged.”

“So what do we do now?” Irene asked, as the chief of security walked back inside the administrative office.

“We could always go after him,” Bud suggested. “We’ve still got the military version of that same aircraft. The Air Force isn’t supposed to come by and pick it up until next week.”

“What’s that?” Tom asked. “The military is taking one of my planes?”

“It makes sense,” Irene pointed out. “The Falcon and the Eagle are the two fastest jets in the world. The Air Force is going to want them even if no one else can have them. The public will think that the whole project got canceled and no one will be the wiser.”

Tom turned to Bud. “You guys didn’t start building a prototype of the Eagle, did you?”

Bud shook his head. “I think they were going to wait for you to work out the bugs first. I’ve only been briefed on the Falcon.”

“Still, I bet the military requested the blueprints for the Eagle,” Irene replied. “You know how closely your Dad has been working with them.”

“Nobody tells me anything,” Tom complained. “I’m losing control of my own project! My hyperplane gets sabotaged by Brungarians and in response the government shuts it down and takes it away so the military can use it in secret. And I’m not consulted at all!”

Bud spoke up. “I hate to interrupt again but that plane is getting further away by the minute. If we’re going to tail it we’ve got to leave immediately.”

“I guess you’re right,” Tom said. “Let’s go.”

Irene grabbed Tom’s arm. “I don’t think so, Tom. Are you completely out of your mind? What, exactly, are you planning on doing?”

“I’m going to follow the jet, see where it lands, and get the evidence back,” Tom said. “It’s simple.”

“It’s totally insane!” Irene said firmly. “You don’t even know where the plane is going! For all you know it could be headed straight to Brungaria. Do you really intend to invade Brungaria all on your own? With your two bare hands?”

“It’s a military jet,” Tom replied.

“But it’s not armed,” But added hastily. “I mean, it could have been, but the Air Force was going to test those systems, so it’s not stocked with missiles and things. But unlike the non-military version it is sheathed in Tomasite, so at least the Brungarians can’t track it on radar.”

“Look,” Tom said, looking Irene in the eye. “I have got to get that evidence back. It’s the only way I can prove beyond a doubt that the project was sabotaged. And besides, if he does go straight to their base that’s even better – perhaps we can find more evidence that will blow this whole conspiracy wide-open. Xanthus has been far too effective at raiding our installations. We’ve got to shut them down, and no one else is going to do it.”

Irene shook her head. She paused, and then looked off into the distance. “This is such a bad idea,” she said at last. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this. Your dad would kill me if he ever found out. This is beyond idiocy.” She sighed. “Ok, Tom, I’m with you. But let’s at least bring some firepower.”

“You mean guns?” Tom asked, surprised. “Where are we going to get them? Ned manufactures plastic here, not bullets.”

“Yeah, but we also guard nuclear secrets,” Bud pointed out. “We do have a cache of arms. They keep it locked in a small concrete shed.”

“Ok,” Irene said. “I’m taking charge here. Tom, you go and get the weapons. You’re probably the only person here who can get them without being asked too many questions. Bud, you and I will go to the hangar and get the jet warmed up. You will be flying us since neither Tom nor myself have actual flight experience with the Sampson engine. Building it and actually flying it are two totally different things.”

“Not a problem,” Bud said confidently. He gave Tom the directions to the shed where the weapons were stored, and then he and Irene walked to the hangar. Once they had gone through security and walked inside they found a sleek, black jet.

“Wow,” Irene said, surprised. “This is quite a bit larger than the Falcon.”

“The Polaris can go quite a bit faster too,” Bud said proudly. “You and Tom did an amazing job designing it. It has zero cargo space but man can it move! I used that very jet to set the world record for fastest time circling the globe.”

Bud and Irene removed flight suits from a nearby closet, put them on, and then entered the plane. The cockpit was small, but there was still room for six people. Bud sat in the pilot’s seat and Irene sat beside him. As they strapped themselves in and prepared for takeoff Bud turned to Irene. “Since you helped design this aircraft I’m going to assume you know how to fly a normal aircraft.”

Irene giggled. “Yeah, I know how to fly. I’ve even flown supersonic before. But this is a bit different. Can you show me how it works?”

“Of course,” Bud replied. While they were waiting on Tom he pointed out the different controls inside the plane and explained how it worked. As Irene was asking questions Tom suddenly drove into the hangar at top speed. The young man was driving a jeep that had several wooden crates stacked in the back. After parking the jeep next to the plane Tom lugged the four crates into the jet and set them on the two seats to the rear of the cockpit. After securing the boxes he exited the plane, donned a pilot’s suit, and climbed back on board, taking the seat located directly behind Irene.

“So what did you bring us?” Irene asked, as Bud taxied the plane onto the runway.

“A box of everything,” Tom remarked. “We’ve got guns, bullets, and grenades.”

Irene sighed. “This is such a bad idea. Do you even know how to shoot?”

“I’ve fired a weapon before,” Tom said defensively, as the Polaris lifted off the runway and soared into the sky.

“That’s not what I asked,” Irene replied.

“I’m an expert marksman,” Bud said. “Now, grenades are something I’ve never dealt with before. That will be interesting.”

“So can you see the other plane on radar?” Tom asked, changing the subject.

“You mean the Freelancer?” Bud asked. “Give me a minute here.” He brought the plane up to an altitude of 40,000 feet and then quickly accelerated it to its top speed of Mach 5, all while keeping an eye on the radar.

“There she is,” Bud said at last. He pointed to a dot on the outer edge of the scope. “We’re not gaining on it, and it’s not pulling away from us. There’s no other plane in the world that can do that except for my baby.”

Irene removed a map from an overhead pocket and plotted their course. “It looks like I was right,” she said, sighing.

“Brungaria?” Tom asked.

“Brungaria,” Irene replied.

There was silence for a moment. Bud was the first one to speak up. “Brungaria is just over 9,000 miles away. At Mach 5 we should be there in about two and a half hours. We should get there shortly after midnight, local time.”

“If that really is where he is going,” Irene added.

“Can this plane really maintain Mach 5 for that long?” Tom asked.

“Oh, sure,” Bud replied. “I’ve flown the Polaris all the way around the world before. It’s got tremendous stamina.”

“You did?” Tom asked. “I never heard about that. How did you get the clearances from all those countries to fly over their airspace?”

Bud grinned. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Irene shook her head. “You two are just alike,” she complained. “Do you not realize how dangerous this is?”

“We’ll find a way,” Tom said confidently. “We always do, after all.”

“What do you mean, ‘we always do’?” Irene asked. “I don’t ever remember invading Brungaria before. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t happen very often. Even the United States government has never invaded Brungaria.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Tom quipped.

There was silence for a few minutes, and then Irene spoke up. “That Tomasite formula bothers me,” Irene said at last. “Bud, can you contact the factory and have them transmit the plans to Tom’s father? I’d like him to double-check them, just to be sure.”

“Sure,” Bud replied. “How do you want them to transmit the formula?”

“I don’t know,” Irene said. “Tell them to think of something. Maybe they can just get him on the phone and read it to him. I don’t really care.”

As Bud relayed the order Tom leaned forward to talk to Irene. “How are you going to know Dad’s response? It’s not like he can give us a call back.”

“It doesn’t matter if he can reach us or not. If something is wrong with the formula he’ll realize it and will know what to do. That should be enough.”

“Good thinking,” Tom said approvingly.

“They’ve got the message!” Bud said a few minutes later. “They’re calling the hotel now.”

Irene shrugged. “We’ve done all we can do.”

“Not quite!” Tom said. “There is still something else that needs to be done. Next stop, Brungaria!”

“So what do we do now?” Irene asked.

“I think we need to make a trip out west,” Tom replied. “Now that we know what happened we need to find out who is responsible and bring them to justice.”

“Do you think it will even be possible?”

“Definitely,” Tom replied. “It would have taken a great deal of care and effort to poison the Tomasite, and there would only have been a few times in the production process where it would have even been possible. There aren’t many people who would have been at the right place and the right time. I think we can make a trip to the factory and get some good leads on who might have done it.”

“That’s true,” Irene said thoughtfully. “But even if we can’t prove who did it, we can at least show what really brought down the Eagle. That alone may be enough to get the nuclear hyperplane back in the air.”

“I’m afraid not,” Tom said glumly. “Our hyperplane will never fly again. To the public it doesn’t matter what destroyed the aircraft – they see it as a a flying bomb and they will never see it any differently. Xanthus found a great way to kill this project once and for all. I really have to hand it to him.”

Irene frowned. “So you think it was our Brungarian friend?”

“Who else?” Tom asked bitterly. “We know he was interested in the project – after all, he did send his men to come and steal my blueprints. Then once he had the plans he made sure that we could never use them ourselves. It was brilliant. Things couldn’t have gone better for him.”

Irene shook her head. “Maybe so, Tom, but we’ll get to the bottom of this. He will regret the day he decided to tangle with the Swifts! You just wait and see.”

Tom looked at her and smiled. “Thanks, Ace. You always have a way of making me feel better. I’m sure you’re right. But we had better be going – I think Dad’s already on his way to New York City. We need to get to the bottom of this before his nuclear power plant opens for business.”

“Don’t you think we should go ahead and tell him what we found?” she asked. “I mean, if we’re right then a lot of innocent lives could be in danger.”

Tom shook his head. “Not until we can know what happened. Right now we can’t prove anything. I mean, for all we know the poisoned Tomasite could have been the result of a faulty manufacturing process.”

“That seems really unlikely,” Irene pointed out.

“Sure, but it’s possible. Stranger things have happened. But besides that, we don’t have any evidence at all that Xanthus sabotaged Dad’s new power plant. It’s entirely possible that he only cared about the hyerplane. If I say something now and turn out to be wrong it’s only going to make things even worse. I’ve got to have an airtight case before I can go to Dad. Do you know how embarrassing it would be if he delayed the opening of the plant for what turned out to be a false alarm?”

“If you say so,” Irene said doubtfully.

Tom and Irene left the laboratory and walked to the airstrip. After securing a jet they took to the skies and began the short flight to the Tomasite factory in central California. Irene acted as pilot while Tom brooded.

At last Irene spoke up. “Don’t you think we should at least let Ned know we’re coming?” she asked.

Tom shook his head. “Ned’s not going to be there, Ace. I heard Dad say the two of them were traveling to New York City this morning. The opening ceremonies aren’t until tomorrow, but there was some sort of dinner tonight that the Governor was throwing in their honor.”

Irene frowned. “So we’re just going to land at the factory unannounced?”

Tom shrugged. “Why not? I’m a Swift, after all. Who is going to say anything?”

“I guess,” Irene replied. “I just don’t like it. It seems rude to arrive without calling first. Besides, do you realize that the only people in the whole world who know where we’re at are the flight controllers at Institute?”

“Word gets around,” Tom said off-handedly. “If someone wants to get in touch with us I’m sure they’ll find a way.”

Several hours later their private jet touched down at the airfield just outside the sprawling Tomasite plant. Tom was impressed with the size of the complex. The large compound was spread out over several square miles and filled with enormous building after enormous building, each dedicated to the production of different types of Tomasite. Tom knew that they were still severely back-ordered despite the plant’s enormous production capacity. It would be at least next year before they finally fulfilled all the orders that they already had, and more orders kept coming in all the time. The lightweight but immensely strong plastic was revolutionizing industry after industry.

After their plane had been safely stowed in the hangar Irene turned and looked at Tom. “All right, skipper, so we’re here. What’s the plan?”

Tom glanced around the area and pointed to a low building in the distance. “I’ve never been here before, but that building looks quite different from all the others. My hunch is that it’s the administrative building. Let’s head that way.”

Irene nodded. “Of course! They’ll have all the records. Only let’s not walk there, shall we?” The teenage girl walked over to a jeep that was parked outside the hangar and started it. Tom got in with an amused look on his face. “What?” the girl asked. “It does say ‘Property of Swift Construction Company’ on the side. Nobody will mind us borrowing it.”

“If you say so,” Tom said, grinning. Irene then floored the accelerator and the jeep shot across the plant. Tom grabbed at the door for support.

“I figured there was no time to waste,” Irene explained innocently. Tom shook his head but said nothing.

After the jeep reached the administrative building the two got out and walked inside. In the foyer was a desk with a receptionist. “May I help you?” she asked.

Tom spoke up. “I’m Tom Swift, and this is Irene Goddard. We’re here to inspect some production records. Could you point us in the right direction?”

The receptionist’s eyes lit up at the mention of the famous Swift name. “Of course,” she said brightly. She handed Tom a clipboard. “If you’ll sign in I’ll have someone direct you to the right place.”

Tom wrote his name and the current time on the clipboard and then handed it to Irene, who did the same. The receptionist then took the clipboard back from her and gave visitor badges to both of them. A moment later they were approached by a security guard.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet a Swift,” the guard said as he shook Tom’s hand. “I understand that you wish to see our production records?”

“That is correct,” Tom answered.

“Right this way,” the guard replied. He led them down a series of corridors and then into the basement. Once they had reached the lower level he led them down another corridor and up to a locked steel door that was labeled RECORDS. The guard then took out a keychain and unlocked the door for them.

“Everything you need should be in here,” the he said. When he opened the door Tom gasped. Beyond the door was an enormous room that stretched for hundreds of feet in all directions. Rows upon rows of filing cabinets filled the cavernous area. Bright lights hung from the ceiling but did little to dispel the gloom.

“Is there anything else I can do?” the guard asked.

“Thanks, but I think we’re good for now,” Irene replied.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” the guard said. The two teenagers then walked inside the room and shut the door behind them.

“Now let me see,” Tom muttered to himself. He walked up to the nearest filing cabinet and read the labels on the outside. “It looks like these are organized by date. We know more or less when the Tomasite for the Eagle was produced, so it’s just a matter of finding the right area and then going through the paperwork.”

“I can’t believe they’ve accumulated so many records so quickly,” Irene replied. “They haven’t been open that long!”

Tom laughed. “It’s not as bad as it seems. Most of these filing cabinets are empty. See?” he said, knocking on the nearest one as they walked by. It let out a hollow sound. “I think the ones we’re looking for are located in the back of the room.”

Tom and Irene began walking in that direction, scanning each cabinet for the right date. Irene eventually shook her head. “There has got to be a better way to do this, skipper. One day you need to invent a more modern way of storing massive amounts of information. This is such a pain.”

“Dad thinks they’ll eventually use electronic brains for this sort of thing,” Tom said vaguely, as he quickly read filing cabinet labels. “He says you’ll be able to access an entire library’s worth of data with the touch of a single button.”

“Oh, sure,” Irene remarked sarcastically. “And you’ll need an entire city to house the brain, and an army of engineers to keep it working. That will never work.”

“You could be right,” Tom agreed. He opened up a filing cabinet drawer and started going through it. “Man, but they produce a lot of Tomasite here,” he muttered to himself. “Irene, can you check that cabinet over there? I think this cabinet only has purchasing records. That one should have the production run details.”

Over the next half-hour the two combed through pages of documents. Eventually a picture started to emerge.

“There’s no doubt about it!” Tom said excitedly. He held up a typed document triumphantly. “Look at this! This is the formula that was used to produce the poisoned Tomasite, Ace. It’s been altered! The Tomasite wasn’t poisoned during the manufacturing process – it was poisoned before the run even started.”

“And the instructions were followed scrupulously,” Irene agreed. “I have here the purchase order for the raw materials, including the rare earth elements. And here are the confirmations that each shift followed the instructions to the letter.”

“They used our own efficiency against us,” Tom said wryly. “Xanthus knew that we were sticklers for detail and quality, and he used that to ensure the Tomasite was poisoned to perfection! I’m impressed.”

“But they made one mistake,” Irene replied. “There aren’t many people who could have altered the instructions. They must have been changed the moment they were received, or someone would have noticed the difference. That means we can limit the suspects to – ”

“Quiet,” Tom hissed. “Did you hear that?”

Footsteps were coming toward them!

Tom quickly gathered up the documents and stuffed them into his jacket, and then silently closed the filing cabinets. A moment later a man wearing a black suit appeared at the end of the hallway. As soon as he saw them he pulled out a gun and started firing!

Tom grabbed Irene and pulled her out of the way as bullets whizzed by. The two darted down another aisle of filing cabinets, desperately trying to stay out of the line of fire. Tom desperately tried to knock some cabinets over to slow the shooter down but they were too heavy to move.

“You can’t get away!” the armed assailant shouted. “I have the door covered.”

“What are we going to do?” Irene whispered, as they darted down another long corridor of cabinets.

“We’ve got to find a way to disable him!”

“But how?” Irene asked.

Tom heard another gunshot behind him. “Let’s split up. You go that way, away from the door, and I’ll draw his attention. I have an idea.”

“Be careful,” Irene pleaded, and then ran off. After listening for a moment Tom climbed on top of a filing cabinet and crouched down low. As Irene ran for cover he heard the assailant slowly making his way around the room.

Tom stopped breathing as the gunman walked right past the filing cabinets where he was hiding. At just the right moment Tom jumped on top of him, crushing him into the ground. The gun went off with a thunderous roar! The shock of the noise startled Tom, which allowed the gunman time to grab his jacket with one hand. Tom desperately wriggled out of it just as the gunman took aim with his weapon. He quickly smashed the attacker’s hand against a filing cabinet and the gun clattered to the floor. Before the gunman could react Tom kicked it out of reach.

His assailant glanced inside Tom’s jacket and saw that the incriminating evidence was still stuffed into an inner pocket. To Tom’s surprise he stuffed the jacket under one arm and bolted for the door. Tom ran over to the gun, picked it up, and shouted at Irene to follow him. Before they could reach him, however, the attacker ran out the door and disappeared.

“What just happened?” Irene said breathlessly as she reached Tom. “I heard gunshots! Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, except he got away with our evidence,” Tom said curtly. He yanked open the door and ran into the hallway. It was deserted.

A moment later he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The security guard ran toward him with his gun drawn. “I heard gunshots,” he explained. “What’s going on?”

“An armed man just attacked us and ran out of here!” Tom said. “He must have ran right past you.”

“I didn’t see anyone,” the guard said. “What did he look like?”

“He was wearing a black suit with a dark blue tie, and had neatly-trimmed brown hair” Irene said. “He was about 5′ 10″ and was carrying Tom’s jacket. You couldn’t have missed him.”

“I guess I did see him after all,” the guard replied. “I thought he was an executive! He didn’t seem to be in a hurry so I didn’t give him a second look.”

The three of them ran upstairs and down the hallway to the building’s entrance. When they got outside they saw a jeep roaring toward the airfield at high speed. It was being driven by a distinguished-looking man in a suit. There were no other vehicles in sight.

“How are we going to follow him?” Tom asked anxiously.

“I’ll raise the alarm,” the guard said. “We’ll secure the area! He won’t be able to leave.”

“What should we do?” Irene asked, as the guard ran off to alert the rest of the plant’s security team.

Tom thought a moment. “Go downstairs and find the paperwork on Dad’s nuclear power plant. We need to find out if Xanthus sabotaged it as well. Meanwhile, I’ll stick around and accompany the guard when they go to apprehend the assailant. I’ve got to make sure he still has those papers on him! If he doesn’t then I’ll lead a team to search for them.”

“Good idea,” Irene replied. She walked back into the building and left Tom outside. He sat down on the front steps and waited for the guard to reappear. I can’t believe I let him escape with the evidence! Tom thought bitterly. I should have known Xanthus would station a lookout. I underestimated him yet again.

Tom’s thoughts were interrupted when a voice called out to him. “Hey! Tom!” He looked up and saw a big, bright-red pickup truck idling in front of the administrative building. The pickup had a camper built onto the rear of its body and sported California license plates. The driver’s window was rolled down and a teenage boy with short blond hair was leaning out of it. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Man, but your dad is fit to be tied.”

“My dad?” Tom said uncertainly.

“Yeah. Did you know he’s here?”

Tom looked astonished. “Are you kidding? When did he get here? He’s supposed to be – ”

“Yeah, I know. Tell me about it,” the teenager replied. “But look. He wants to talk to you. As in right now. He is so not pleased.”

Tom sighed. “This just isn’t my day. Where is he?”

“Inside, in his office,” the teenager said.

“Thanks,” Tom replied. As he turned to leave the teenager called out to him once more. “Hey, have you seen Bud anywhere?”

“Not that I know of,” Tom replied hesitantly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. When I find him I’ll send him in as well. Your dad wants to see you both. But look – I’ll catch you later.” With that, he rolled up his window and drove off.

What on earth is Dad doing here? Tom wondered as he walked back inside the building. He smiled at the receptionist and asked her where his father’s office was located. After receiving precise directions he walked up to a small room in the back of the second floor. He hesitated just a moment to gather his nerves and then carefully knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a voice said. He nervously opened the door and walked inside. Sure enough, his father was sitting behind an empty metal desk, wearing a stern look. The room was very sparsely decorated. It had a desk, some chairs, and a filing cabinet, but little else. I guess Dad doesn’t come here often, Tom thought.

The young man sat down in front of the desk and looked at his father. “Um, so what are you doing here?” he asked hesitantly. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to see you.”

“I imagine not,” his father said. “Look, Tom. You’ve done a lot of crazy things in your life, but this one has got to top them all. Did you even stop to think through what you were doing?”

“Look, Dad, I’m sorry,” Tom replied. “I really am! I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way. And it’s not my fault. I was sabotaged, dad. Things would have gone fine if – ”

“If doesn’t cut it this time,” his father said angrily. “You put the entire universe in danger! I know you’re hurting, but what right did you have to do something like that? This time you’ve gone too far.”

“Now wait just a minute,” Tom said. “I put the entire universe in danger? Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little bit?”

“You know the risks just as well as I do!” his father snapped. “I’ve read those papers. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Last time?” Tom asked. “What are you talking about? The Eagle flew exactly one time. One time! I feel really bad about what happened to Mark, but at the very worst it could only have destroyed a single city. In what possible way could it have destroyed the universe?”

Tom’s father froze. “The Eagle?”

“Of course,” Tom replied. “I came here to prove that it crashed because its Tomasite shielding was sabotaged. And I did prove it. The man with the evidence is being rounded up by security as we speak. It wasn’t my fault. Xanthus was behind this. The whole thing was just a plot to kill the hyperplane project.”

“Oh,” Tom’s father replied. His expression instantly changed from anger to fear. “But – that doesn’t make any sense. Who sent you here? How is this possible?”

“A guy in a red pickup truck,” Tom replied. “I’d never seen him before.”

Tom Sr. quickly stood up. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I really am. I didn’t realize what was going on. Please, just go back to whatever you were doing. I really did not mean to interrupt.”

“What? I don’t understand,” Tom Jr. replied.

“You will in time,” Tom Sr. said. “I’m afraid I can’t explain now – there’s something urgent I have to do.”

“But – ”

“It’s ok,” his father said. “Just go ahead and finish. When you’re done, look for me in New York.” With that, his father left the office and closed the door behind him.

What was that all about? Tom wondered. As he stood up to leave the door opened again. This time a tall, well-build teenager stepped through the doorway. He was wearing a leather pilot’s jacket. As he entered the office he walked up to Tom and shook his hand. “Have we met before?” he asked.

“Not that I know of,” Tom replied. “I’m Tom Swift. And you are?”

“Bud Barclay,” he said. “A guy in a red pickup truck told me to meet your father here. So, what have I missed?”

The Eagle disappeared from radar right before it crashed, so at first the Swifts were not sure where it hit the ground. Given its enormous speed and its invisibility to radar it could have went down anywhere within several hundred miles, and there would be no immediate way to pinpoint it. However, it did not take long for news reports of a devastating plane crash in Kansas to begin pouring in. When they received word that a mysterious plane had crashed into a prairie and created both seismic tremors and a scar several miles long they knew they had found their missing jet.

The Swifts responded immediately. Tom Swift Jr., his father, and Irene took a cargo jet to the crash site, and a team of personnel from Institute accompanied them. Tom’s father called ahead and spoke with the local Kansas authorities, warning them of the danger from radiation and giving precise instructions. He also contacted the federal government and let them know what happened so they could deploy around the site and establish a perimeter.

During the trip there Tom was in shock. “I just don’t understand,” he kept repeating. “This couldn’t have happened! We ran all kinds of tests, Irene. All kinds of tests! The Tomasite never failed that way in the lab. Or in the tests on board the Falcon. This just doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Irene assured him. “I’m sure there are answers out there.”

“But what about Mark?” Tom asked soberly. “It’s too late for him. He died because of a mistake I made. What is his wife going to do? What about his children? I’m responsible for this. What am I going to tell them?”

Tom’s father spoke up. “I’ve already spoken with them, Son. We will take care of them and see that their needs are met. I don’t want to minimize that, but right now we need to focus on cleaning up the crash site. If it’s not handled properly the radioactive debris could endanger the lives of others as well. There’s never been a nuclear accident like this before and it will be up to the three of us to manage its cleanup.”

“I guess,” Tom said sadly. “I just can’t believe it. I tested for this, Dad. I really did. This should not have happened.”

When they arrived at the crash site a few hours later Tom’s father had the jet circle the area before landing. Tom was astonished at the extent of the damage. The grassy prairie had been destroyed, with dirt and rocks thrown everywhere. A deep scar now ran across the land.

“It looks like a meteor hit,” Irene remarked.

“That’s pretty close to what happened,” Tom replied. “Do you notice how much of the aircraft is left?”

Irene shook her head. “I’m really not seeing much of it at all. There’s scraps, maybe, but that’s about it.”

“Exactly,” Tom sighed. “The plane hit the ground so hard that it shattered like glass. Even the Tomasite couldn’t take it. It’s going to be almost impossible to find out what went wrong. What can you possibly learn from a few pieces of twisted metal?”

“I see a lot of people out there,” Tom Sr. said. His son realized that he was right. The military had arrived and cordoned off the entire area. There were already people in anti-radiation suits scouring the land and picking up small fragments of the plane. Other teams were scanning the soil for radiation and searching the surrounding area for anything that might be missed.

To the far end of the field, nearest the place where the remains of the plane had come to rest, was a large crowd of onlookers. Even from the air Tom could tell that they were reporters.

“That didn’t take long,” Irene said. “It looks like every news outfit in the country has a reporter here.”

“Of course,” Tom said bitterly. “I bet this is the biggest story of the year. I don’t even want to know what the headlines are going to say.”

“You’re going to have to face them, Son,” his father warned. “This is all part of being an inventor. When things go well they will praise you, and when things go wrong they will destroy you. Our inventions have an impact on many people’s lives, and part of that means constantly being in the public eye.”

The group spent the rest of the night managing the cleanup of the crash site. Most of the wreckage had been removed by the following morning, but it took three more days to finish the job. By the time they were on their way back to the Institute they were exhausted.

“I’ve asked them to put the remains of the Eagle in the hangar where it was built,” Tom’s father told him as their plane took off from Kansas. “Let me know what you find.”

“I will,” Tom promised. “But that will have to wait. I’m exhausted, Dad. I need to recover.”

“Are we completely sure we covered everything?” Irene asked. “We’re sure that there’s no radioactive debris left behind?”

Tom’s father nodded. “I think so. But remember, we’re not completely abandoning the site. There is still a team from the Institute there that will scan the area to make sure we haven’t missed anything. And we’ll monitor it at regular intervals over the next few years to see if there is any lingering radiation. But I think this time we got lucky, Irene. If the plane had plowed into a city it would have been a whole different story.”

The jet landed at Institute that evening, and everyone went home and got some rest. The following day Irene got up around noon and went into Tom’s laboratory. To her surprise she found Tom in tears.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, as she sat down on a stool next to him. Then she noticed the newspapers that were strewn all over his workbench.

“You haven’t seen the press coverage, have you?” Tom asked bitterly. He grabbed a newspaper and tossed it at her. “Read this. Read what they’re saying in our own hometown.”

Irene took the issue of the Shopton Evening Bulletin from him and read the headline. “Nuclear Meltdown,” she read aloud. “Experimental nuclear jet explodes in the sky, showering local populace in deadly radiation.” She looked up from the paper, puzzled. “The jet exploded?” she asked. “It showered cities with radiation?”

“No, it didn’t,” Tom said. “But it doesn’t matter. Keep going.”

Irene resumed reading. “Early this afternoon an experimental nuclear jet from Swift Enterprises exploded over the skies of Kansas and crashed into a prairie a few miles from Topeka. In what is the worst disaster ever from the world-famous technology company, the jet showered the area with deadly radiation and narrowly missed wiping out the state capitol. Private sources within Swift Enterprises have revealed that the jet was designed by Tom Swift Jr., the son of the company’s famous founder.”

Irene quickly scanned the rest of the article. Her heart sank as she finished reading it. “I can see why you’re upset,” she said quietly. “There’s a lot of anger directed at you.”

“You should read the others,” Tom replied. “They’re all the same. They say that the jet is a terrible idea – a flying atom bomb. That I nearly wiped out an entire city. That I’m young and irresponsible and a public menace. And they’re right, Irene.”

Irene put down the paper and looked at Tom. “No, they’re wrong. You’re not a public menace. It’s just that you’re attempting something that has never been done before, and sometimes things go wrong. I admit this is a terrible accident, but we took every precaution. And it’s just as much my fault as it is yours. The two of us designed the jet together.”

“But look what I’ve done,” Tom said with anguish. “I really did endanger thousands of innocent lives. I killed Mark Spring. And I destroyed the good name of Swift Enterprises. Dad spent a lifetime building up this company’s reputation, and in a single afternoon I destroyed it. We went from a national treasure to a public menace in the blink of an eye. And it gets worse.”

“Worse?” Irene said. “What do you mean?”

Tom’s voice wavered. “Dad came in earlier this morning to talk to me. It seems that when he got back to the Institute there were some government people here to meet with him. The upshot is that they’re canceling Project Arcturus. Even the mass-production on the Falcon is being stopped. The public is demanding that we halt our research into nuclear aviation, and so it’s all over.” He looked at her with great pain in her eyes. “I’m finished, Irene, It’s over. My career has ended before it even began. I guess I’m not going to follow in my father’s footsteps after all.”

Irene jumped out of her chair and grabbed Tom. “This is not happening. There is no way I am going to let your father cancel this project. You had it working, Tom. It worked. I don’t know what went wrong, but we’re going to find out and we’re going to fix it. Your dad never gave up on a project, and I’m not going to let him start now.”

Tom shook his head. “But he’s right. The public was already upset with us before the Institute was even built, and it’s far worse now. They’d never let us continue after a disaster like that. Nuclear-powered aircraft are just a bad idea. It’s just not worth it.”

Irene looked at Tom angrily. “You are not going to just give up, Tom. Do you hear me? I am not going to let that happen. There is no way you can let a single failure, however bad, stop you in your tracks and send you running home and feeling sorry for yourself. If you don’t want to go talk to your dad then fine – I’ll do it myself.” She then stormed out of the laboratory, leaving Tom behind, staring off into the distance.

It did not take her long to track down Tom’s father. She found him in his office. To her surprise, Ned Newton was there.

“Irene!” Tom Sr. said, as she barged into his office and slammed the door behind her. He hesitated. “I see that you’ve talked with Tom this morning.”

“I certainly have,” Irene said. She walked up to his desk, put her hands on it, leaned over, and looked him in the eye. In a cold, steely voice she said, “You are a coward.”

Tom Sr. sighed. “I knew you would be upset, but you have to understand that I had no choice. The only way the government would even allow us to build this facility is if we agreed to operate within certain guidelines. If the authorities won’t allow me to continue Project Arcturus then I have no choice.”

“Don’t give me that,” Irene shot back. “What really happened is that some politicians saw that the public was upset and wanted to appease them. And then you, instead of fighting for your son, caved in like a wet newspaper. You have a lot of clout, Mr. Swift, but you didn’t use it. No, you just caved and crushed your son’s hopes and dreams.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tom’s father said angrily. “I’m not above the law. I can’t just do whatever it is I want to do.”

“But you can do something about it!” Irene shouted back. “You can change public opinion. You can ask to be given time to find out what happened. You can put a hold on the project and give the public a chance to cool off. But you didn’t do any of those things. No, you just quit. You were never willing to sacrifice any of your own projects on the alter of public opinion, but you’re willing to cancel your son’s first invention the moment anything goes wrong.”

“It’s a bit more serious than that,” Ned said, speaking up. “I admit that Tom Sr. has invented a lot of things in the past thirty-odd years, but even our worst accidents weren’t really that bad. Nothing he ever invented put an entire city into danger. Nuclear power is incredibly dangerous, and in hindsight it probably was irresponsible to let some as young as Junior work with it.”

Irene gritted her teeth. “You weren’t saying that when he invented the Falcon, were you now? Oh no. Then you had nothing but praise for him. But you didn’t really mean it. You’ll support Tom as long as nothing goes wrong. But remember, it wasn’t the Sampson engine that failed – it was the Tomasite. And that wasn’t Tom’s invention. In fact, that Tomasite came from your factory.”

Ned stood up. “Are you trying to blame all of this on me?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” Irene said icily. “After all, you two canceled the project without even bothering to investigate what happened. Nice move.” With that, she stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind her.

Ned sat back down and shook his head. “She just doesn’t understand. I’m sure she’ll eventually calm down.”

“I don’t know,” Tom Sr. replied sadly. “She may understand all too well.”

Irene did not reappear until the next day. She found Tom Swift Jr. in his laboratory, packing up his supplies.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” she asked him.

“I’m going back home,” Tom said. “Dad won’t let me do anything else here so there’s no point in staying. I might as well go back to Shopton.”

“I don’t think so,” Irene said fiercely. “You need to find out why that plane crashed.”

Tom sighed. “Dad told me about your meeting with him yesterday. He hasn’t changed his mind, Irene. The project is dead.”

“But you’re missing the point!” Irene argued. “Look. Let’s lay aside the hyperplane for now. You and I are both pretty convinced that something went wrong with the Tomasite, right?”

Tom nodded. “Sure. That’s what it seemed like to me, anyway.”

“And you do realize that your father is using that same Tomasite to shield a nuclear reactor he’s building in New York City, right?”

Tom froze. “You mean that project wasn’t canceled?”

Irene shook her head. “Oh no. You see, the newspapers blamed you for the accident, not your father. They’re still quite excited about the new Swift reactor. After all, your dad has never really failed. But the thing is, the reactor is based on Tomasite. If the plane failed because of a flaw in that miracle plastic then the reactor is going to fail as well. Only when it fails it’s going to kill millions of people.”

“Oh man,” Tom said weakly. “I never thought of that. Does Dad know this?”

Irene shook her head. “He hasn’t thought it through. But the remains of the jet are still out there in the hangar. I saw samples of the reactor shielding in the wreckage when I combed through it last night. We’ve got to examine those fragments and find out what happened.”

“Then help me get unpacked,” Tom pleaded. “We don’t have much time. I think the plant is already undergoing trials. The opening ceremonies are just a few days away!”

After Tom’s lab was set back up, Tom and Irene went to the hangar. There was not much left of the Eagle, but Irene pointed out the Tomasite fragments she had found. “The Tomasite that shielded the reactor can easily be told apart from the Tomasite that covered the jet,” she explained. “It’s the reactor shielding that we want.”

Once they had gathered a handful of fragments they took them back to the laboratory and ran them through a series of tests. Tom once again found him puzzled.

“It’s just as we thought,” he said at last. “The plastic has lost its ability to turn heat into electricity. It’s just not working anymore. But what I don’t understand is why happened. We put Tomasite through all kinds of tests and we never saw this sort of behavior.”

“But we have in the past,” Irene reminded him. “At least, I have. You weren’t there when your father and I were developing this material, but I remember all the useless batches that we created. It’s very difficult to manufacture Tomasite. If you don’t do it exactly right – ”

” – it won’t work,” Tom said excitedly. “That’s right! I remember now. But the thing is it worked at first! We tested this very batch of plastic before the Eagle even made its first test flight. Why would it stop working?”

“There’s one way to find out,” Irene said. She took a sample and spent the next hour performing a chemical analysis of the substance. When the last test had been completed she looked up at Tom in triumph. “I think that answers it beyond a doubt,” she said.

“I can’t believe it,” Tom said. “The material was poisoned with rare earth elements. And not just any elements, either. It was just the right substance to cause a sudden failure after a certain threshold was met.”

“I don’t think it was accidental,” Irene said.

“I don’t either,” Tom replied. “You just don’t find these ultra-rare metals laying around. Irene, this was sabotage!”

At exactly six o’clock in the morning the thunderous refrains of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture woke Tom Swift Jr. out of a sound sleep. The moment his alarm went off the young inventor yawned, stretched, and got out of bed. This is it – the big day! he thought excitedly to himself.

He quickly showered, got dressed in one of his signature striped t-shirts, and went into the kitchen to get breakfast. The Swifts’ living quarters at the Institute were not nearly as spacious as their home back in Shopton, but they were large enough to meet their needs. The only other person currently out of bed was his father, who was reading the morning paper and eating a bowl of oatmeal. He was already dressed in a black suit and tie.

“Good morning, Son,” his father said, looking up from the Shopton Evening Bulletin. His father had his hometown paper delivered to the Institute. Since it traveled by mail it was always a few days behind, but he liked to follow the local events in Shopton. “Are you ready for the big day?”

His son nodded as he took two slices of wheat bread and put them in the toaster. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I think. I’ve done everything I know to do. All that’s left is to try it and see what happens.”

His father nodded. “You’ve demonstrated remarkable caution in the development of the Sampson engine. The Eagle is definitely ready for its first flight. Ned Newton is eager to get his hands on your hyperplane – he’s convinced that there is a significant market for it.”

“How is his work on the Falcon coming along?” Tom asked.

“Building nuclear jet engines is not something he’s ever had to do before, but he’s made great strides in perfecting an automated manufacturing process for them. By the end of the year his aircraft production facilities should be able to start making Falcon-class aircraft in production quantities. Of course, the Eagle will take a bit longer since it is so much more difficult to produce. Washington is particularly interested in it, however, so he might have some additional resources.”

“Washington?” Tom asked. He removed the two slices of toast from the toaster and put butter and cinnamon on it. “As in the federal government?”

His father nodded as he finished his oatmeal. “They feel that the hyperplane could give the United States a strategic advantage in the world. The military will almost certainly be our first customers.”

“I can see that,” Tom said. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the kitchen table. “Still, I’m not too keen at having the hyperplane turned into a weapon. I believe science should be used for the peaceful advancement of mankind. I’m not a weapons scientist, Dad.”

Tom Sr. smiled. “No, Son, you’re not. In my day I invented quite a few inventions for the military – everything from airplanes to war tanks to giant cannons. There are times when one must put aside the role of the scientist and seek the welfare of the country.”

“But yet you never gave the government your electric rifle,” Tom pointed out.

“No, I never did,” Tom Sr. said thoughtfully. “Of course, there are reasons for that. But Tom, you’re not going to eat only toast for breakfast, are you?”

Tom finished his last piece of toast and got up from the table. “I’m afraid so. I’ve got a million things to do today! Breakfast will just have to wait.”

“Just don’t let Chow catch you!” Tom Sr. warned. “He’ll have a fit.”

Tom laughed. “I can hear him now! ‘Well brand my suspenders, but you ain’t had nothin’, Tom! Don’t you take another step until I rustle you up some vittles. It ain’t natural.'”

Tom’s father laughed with his son. “Charles Winkler is truly a remarkable person. So are you off to work?”

Tom Jr. nodded. “If you don’t mind. Is there something you wanted?”

Tom Sr.’s eyes twinkled. “No, but there’s something you wanted.” He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, which he handed to his son. Tom gently opened the box.

“It’s beautiful,” he said softly. He removed a thin golden ring from the case and held it up to the light. The diamond sparkled with unusual brilliance.

“You can be proud of that stone,” his father said. “The jeweler said that it was a very good diamond. Not flawless, but of a high quality. The final weight of the finished gemstone was just over a half-carat.”

“Irene will love this,” Tom said, as he put the ring back the case and put the case in his pocket. “Especially when she finds out where it came from. After the hyperplane test this afternoon we’re going to Nitro for dinner. There’s a little steakhouse on the north side of town that has a beautiful outdoor dining area. That’s where I’m planning on giving it to her.”

“She will be delighted,” Tom’s father said. “You’ll have to tell me all about it. But don’t let me hold you up, Son. After all, the all-time speed record is waiting to be broken!”

“Aren’t you the one that set that record, Dad?”

His father smiled. “What can I say? Records are made to be broken. But now it’s your turn to get in the history books!”

After saying goodbye to his father Tom made his way to his laboratory, where he put the ring in his private safe. I’ll come back here and get it right after the hyperplane test, he thought. I don’t want to risk losing it or have Irene find it too soon!

Tom had just had time to take out the day’s agenda and begin going over the flight checklist when Irene entered into the laboratory. “Good morning!” she said brightly. “Are you ready for a day of excitement and adventure?”

Tom looked up at her, surprised. “Why hello there, Ace! I wasn’t expecting you this early. I didn’t think you’d be coming in until seven-thirty.”

“It is seven-thirty,” Irene pointed out. “Where have you been?”

Tom glanced down at his watch in surprise. “Oh. I guess it is. Whoops.”

Irene laughed. “Your mind really is in the clouds, isn’t it? But I don’t blame you. So how can I help?”

Tom and Irene spent the rest of the morning preparing for the hyperplane test. Some time was spent coordinating ground personnel and making sure that they had sufficient flight clearances, but the rest of the morning was spent examining the hyperplane itself. They had spent the past few days going over every system in the nuclear-powered aircraft, testing them one-at-a-time and looking for any signs of trouble. The final check was not completed until well after one o’clock.

“I think it’s as good as it’s going to get,” Tom said wearily. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud, bellowing voice behind him. “Well brand my biscuits, but there you are, son! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Tom and Irene whirled around to see Chow standing behind him. He was wearing a bright red-and-yellow shirt that had an eagle emblazoned on it. The outfit was topped off by an enormous white hat and bright yellow cowboy boots.

Tom grinned. “That’s quite a shirt you’ve got there, Chow! Are you trying to give the sun a run for its money?”

Chow smiled proudly. “I picked up this little thing in San Antone,” he replied. “It’s quite a number, ain’t it?”

Irene tried not to laugh. “It is remarkable. But you said you were looking for us?”

“O’course I was! You were supposed to be at lunch an hour ago. There’s a big dinner before the flight, remember? Your Dad and everybody was there. Except fer you two.”

Tom’s eyes widened. He slapped his forehead “Oh no! I can’t believe I forgot. Please tell me they’re not still waiting on us.”

Chow shook his head dourly. “Nope. The meal’s done finished. But I saved a few bites fer the two of you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Irene apologized. “We’ve been trying to complete our work on the plane. We just finished a few minutes ago. Time just kind of got away from us.”

“Shucks, it’s ok,” Chow replied agreeably. “It ain’t like it’s never happened before. But say, is this yer plane?” Chow looked at the enormous craft in front of him with a mixture of awe and respect. The Eagle was a black aircraft 107 feet long and shaped like a long, narrow triangle. The triangular body spread out near the end of the craft and gave the impression of small, triangular wings. The Sampson engine was mounted on the bottom of the fuselage and ran nearly the entire length of the jet.

“Yes, this is it!” Tom said proudly. “If all goes well she will become the world’s first hypersonic jet in about two hours from now.”

“Technically, hypersonic speeds start at Mach 5,” Irene explained. “This plane should be able to go well beyond that. We’re hoping to reach a top speed of Mach 15, which is about 12,000 miles per hour. At that speed she could cross the entire United States in less than 15 minutes! It would only take about two hours to circle the entire planet.”

“If that don’t beat all,” Chow said with amazement. “Why, you could be plumb out of Arizona before you’ve had time to blink.”

“And that little fact has led to no end of headaches,” Tom sighed. “The government doesn’t want us leaving US airspace during this initial test, so we’re going to have to essentially circle the country and come back. In thirty minutes the Eagle should be able to get from the Institute to Shopton and back. At least, that’s the plan.”

“But it ain’t got any wings,” Chow said, perplexed. “How does that work?”

“The fuselage acts as a lifting body,” Tom explained. “The plane doesn’t need wings because, essentially, the entire plane acts as a giant wing. It won’t be very efficient at low speeds but once we reach supersonic and hypersonic velocities it will provide plenty of lift. And the entire plane has been coated with Tomasite to keep the enormous heat generated from air friction from melting the plane.”

“I kinda get it,” Chow said dubiously. “Are you gonna fly it yerself?”

Tom shook his head, laughing. “Oh no. I’m sure I could with some training, even though it’s quite different from anything I’ve flown before. No, Mark Spring is going to have that honor.”

“In fact, we should probably go meet him now,” Irene said, looking at her watch.

“Not so fast!” Chow said warningly. “You two pardners have got to eat something.”

“Ok,” Irene relented. “I’m sure you’re right. Lead the way!”

* * * * *

Two hours later, Tom Swift Jr. once again found himself in the flight control tower at the Institute’s airport. With him were Irene Goddard, Tom Swift Sr., and two flight control technicians.

“I was kind of expecting more people to be here,” Irene remarked, as she and Tom took their positions at the control desk.

Tom’s father spoke up. “There are a great many people interested in this test, Irene. But since the majority of the flight will take place far away from the Institute there did not seem to be any particular advantage to assembling in this room.”

“Even tracking the flight by radar is going to be a headache,” his son said. “We’ve had to patch into all kinds of systems that span from here to Shopton. And radio communication will be another challenge, for similar reasons. But I think we’ve got all that worked out.”

“I figured it would be a pain,” Irene said teasingly. “That’s why I let you handle it and stuck with testing the hyperplane’s flight systems. I’ll take a nuclear reactor over government red tape any day of the week.”

Tom’s father snapped his fingers. “Say, isn’t the plane coated in Tomasite? How is it even possible to track it on radar?”

“We’re using a kind of transponder,” his son explained. “Essentially the plane is going to tell us where it’s at. Otherwise you’re right – there’d be no way for us to tell what was going on.”

“The Eagle is ready for takeoff,” one of the flight controllers said. “We are awaiting your signal.”

“Ground crews are standing by,” another controller told him. “We have clearance for takeoff.”

Tom took a deep breath. “Then let’s go for it,” he said quietly.

The flight controller relayed the message to Mark, who had already taxied the plane to the runway. After receiving word he fired up the Sampson engine and began speeding down the long airstrip.

Tom’s father spoke up. “It takes a lot of ground to get the plane in the air,” he noticed.

Tom nodded. “I’m afraid so. The plane has to be going at a pretty good clip before the lifting body starts working. It’s one of the trade-offs of its design.”

A moment later the sleek black hyperplane left the ground and soared into the air! Its pilot quickly brought the jet up to speed and effortlessly broke the sound barrier. He set course for Shopton and leveled the jet’s speed off at Mach 3.

“Mark is standing by,” the flight controller said. “He is waiting for your order to take the plane to Mach 5.”

“The reactor is looking good,” Irene said. “No problems so far.”

“The telemetry data is good too,” Tom agreed. He monitored the jet for a few minutes and then nodded. “Tell Mark to bring it up into hypersonic territory and then hold it there for a while.”

The flight controller relayed the message. Over the next few minutes Mark slowly brought the jet up to nearly 4,000 miles per hour. Everyone held their breath as plane crossed the threshold!

“The plane has reached Mach 5,” the flight controller said. “The Eagle is holding course.”

“Amazing,” Tom’s father breathed. “The first hypersonic flight! Mark is now traveling faster than any human being has ever traveled before.”

Tom watched the data on the screen in front of him carefully. “The hull temperature has risen, but it’s well within the predicted range. The plane looks like it’s still stable. Irene?”

“The reactor is working fine,” she told him. “We still have plenty of power available. We could hold this speed for weeks.”

“Mark may not appreciate that,” Tom said dryly. “But I agree that things are looking good.”

Once again Tom waited a few minutes, but at last he gave the order that everyone had been waiting for. “Tell Mark to push the plane to its limit. Let’s see what the Eagle is capable of doing.”

As soon as the order was relayed the plane began accelerating. Tom watched anxiously as the plane exceeded Mach 7, Mach 8, and then Mach 9. When the plane hit Mach 10 Tom spoke up again. “Tell Mark that everything is still looking good from our end. We’re not seeing any signs of problems.”

Mark continued to accelerate the plane. A few minutes later it hit Mach 14!

“The plane’s acceleration is slowing,” Tom noticed. “The Sampson engine is working pretty hard.”

Irene nodded. “We have plenty of fuel, but the engine can only produce so much thrust.”

Still, the Eagle continued to accelerate. As the plane crossed over into New York State’s airspace it finally reached Mach 15.

Everyone cheered. “Well done!” Tom Sr. said. “Well done.”

“It took a bit longer than I thought, but we got there,” Tom Jr. said. “Mark’s going to turn the plane around now and head back. We’ll see if he can maintain that speed on the entire return journey or if he’ll need to back off a bit. This will be an excellent test of the engine’s performance and reliability.”

Tom watched the radar scope as the Eagle made a lazy turn over New York State and started heading back to southern Arizona. He also kept a close eye on the telemetry data. “The plane is running pretty hot, but it’s within tolerances,” Tom said at last. “I’m not seeing any signs of hull failure.”

He glanced over at Irene, who was intensely staring at the monitor in front of her. Tom suddenly felt a chill. “What is it?” he asked her.

“Something’s not right,” Irene said uncertainly. “The reaction is producing too much heat. I don’t like it.”

“Are you sure?” Tom said. Fear clutched his heart. He nervously glanced over at her monitor and frowned. “We performed ground tests on that engine at productions levels this high and higher. It worked fine then.”

“But look at the temperature of the reactor’s Tomasite shielding,” Irene said, pointing to a number on the screen. “We shouldn’t be anywhere near that hot at these power levels. I mean, I realize it’s nowhere near Tomasite’s melting point, but I don’t understand it. And I don’t like not understanding it.”

Tom stood up so he could get a better view of the data on Irene’s screen. His eyes suddenly grew wide. “The problem’s not the reactor – it’s the Tomasite! This is really, really bad.”

“Are you sure?” Irene asked dubiously. “What makes you think that?”

“We’re using some of it to generate power for the plane’s electrical systems, right? Well, look at that efficiency ratio. It”s losing its ability to convert the heat into electricity! It’s getting warmer, and I’d bet anything its chemistry is changing. The Tomasite is losing its ability to function.”

Irene looked horrified. “But that’s not possible! We tested for this, Tom. How could this happen?”

Tom shouted at one of the flight controllers. “Tell Mark to cut speed immediately and land the plane! I don’t care where he lands it, but he’s got to get it on the ground immediately. Take emergency action now!”

As Tom and Irene watched, the Eagle rapidly lost speed. But, to Tom’s horror, the plane’s energy level dropped even faster.

“He’s losing power rapidly,” Irene said tersely. “Electricity production is falling off a cliff, and the reactor shielding temperatures are up sharply. The Tomasite is about to fail.”

“But he’s still going Mach 10!” Tom said with fear in his voice. “If he ejects at that speed he’ll be killed instantly. The plane has got to hold together!”

Then suddenly, to Tom’s horror, the telemetry data stopped. Tom and Irene’s monitors went dark, and the plane disappeared from radar.

“We’ve lost radio contact,” one of the flight controllers replied. “What should we do?”

“He’s lost power,” Tom whispered. “There’s no way he’ll be able to control it now. He was going too fast.” He buried his face in his hands.

A thousand miles away all of the electrical systems on the Eagle suddenly went dead, causing the plane to instantly spin out of control. A moment later the jet slammed into a Kansas prairie at a speed of more than five thousand miles per hour.

The impact was so severe that it broke windows in cities more than a hundred miles away. In seconds the wide, grassy prairie was turned into an enormous crater that stretched for several miles. By the time the shattered remains of the aircraft finally stopped moving there was nothing recognizable left of it.

The flight controller anxiously relayed the information to Mark. Everyone in the control tower watched the radar scope as the Falcon II began slowing down and heading back to base.

“Do you think he’ll make it?” Irene asked nervously.

“I hope so,” Tom replied tensely. “But without accurate telemetry data I can’t tell what’s happening. If the engine shuts down or shows any signs of trouble he’ll have to ditch the jet, and that will make it much harder to figure out what went wrong.”

“The jet appears to still be handling well,” Tom’s father remarked quietly.

“For the moment,” his son replied. “Let’s just pray it stays that way.”

After a few tense minutes the atomic jet came within visual range of the control tower. With emergency response crews standing by the group watched as it came in for a landing. When the Falcon II finally touched down on the runway everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Tom Jr. was the first to speak up. “Tell the emergency crews to take the plane and decontaminate it, and have Mark brought to the infirmary.”

“He’s on his way now,” one of the flight controllers replied.

Tom nodded. He then turned to Irene. “I think all we can do now is wait. Once the ground crew finishes their work on the plane we should be able to take apart the engine and tell what went wrong. At this point I really don’t have any guesses.”

“The radiation leak really concerns me,” Irene said. “Having a shielding failure is one of the worst things that could happen aside from a complete reactor meltdown. I was worried about this.”

“But we will solve it,” Tom Jr. said confidently.

With the crisis behind them the group separated. Irene wheeled Tom back to his laboratory, where he spent the rest of the day examining the blueprints for the Sampson engine. The following day the ground crews finished their work on the plane, and Tom and Irene went to the hangar to investigate the jet’s failure. Since Tom could not walk he stayed on the sidelines and directed a group of workers as they dismantled the jet. Irene pitched in as well, and by the following day they had their answer.

“It was definitely not a parts failure,” Irene explained. “This is a design flaw. The Tomasite shielding just isn’t effective. Oh, it’s shielding all right, but the way the engine is designed the radiation isn’t being completely contained. Radiation is leaking into the interior of the jet. When the plane was going at subsonic speeds the reactor was basically idling so there wasn’t enough radiation to notice. However, once we ramped up the thrust it started registering on the cockpit’s radiation detector.”

“Oh boy,” Tom said weakly. “What a disaster! I am so glad we caught this now.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I made a mistake like that. By the way, how is Mark doing?”

“He’s fine,” Irene replied. “He got a pretty good dose of radiation, but it’s nowhere near a lethal amount. Of course, had the radiation gone unnoticed he would have run into problems pretty quick. Even an hour’s flight at Mach 3 would have made him pretty sick. And if the plane been going at Mach 15 with the supersized reactor wide-open, well – ”

“Right,” Tom said thoughtfully. He stared at the dismantled atomic engine and let his mind wander. “You know, Ace, this isn’t going to be an easy problem to solve. I’m going to need to redesign the shielding entirely. This will take some time.”

Irene smiled. “So you think you can have something ready by this evening?”

Tom laughed. “We’ll see.”

As Irene predicted, the following morning Tom had a new set of blueprints ready. The rest of the week was spent rebuilding the engine. Once again, Tom found himself forced to sit on the sidelines while Irene rebuilt the atomic reactor.

“I think this will work pretty well,” Irene said at the end of another long day. “You had to make some fundamental changes but it really nailed the problem. You have a tremendous ability to rapidly solve problems! I wish I could do that.”

Tom smiled. “I come by it honestly, I think. Dad’s the same way. Did you see how much energy he is getting from his new Tomasite reactor?”

Irene nodded. “It’s amazing! It’s only been two days since he turned it on and already it’s stabilized and running wide-open. I was sure he would need weeks of trial runs before he got it to work, but I was wrong. I just can’t figure out what he’s going to do with that much surplus energy. It’s not like there are power lines stretching from here to Nitro.”

Tom blushed, and Irene looked at him quizzically. “You’re up to something, kid,” the red-headed girl said, wagging her finger at him. “And one of these days I’m going to find out what it is.”

“You certainly will,” Tom promised. “By the way, has Dad said anything else about the power plant he’s building in New York City?”

Irene nodded. “It’s going pretty well. Your Dad hopes to have it up and running by the end of the summer.”

“He’s certainly moving rapidly!” Tom remarked.

“Your dad never was one to let the grass grow under his feet. I’ve heard that he’s already breaking ground on a rocket base at Fearing Island. He’s got his eye fixed on space, skipper, and I think he’s expecting you to lead the way.”

Tom laughed. “One project at a time, Ace. Let’s wrap up the hyperplane first. I’d at least like to reach the horizon before I start exploring beyond it!”

When Irene finished rebuilding the Sampson engine Tom and Irene ran it through a battery of tests. Tom felt particularly bad for endangering Mark Spring’s life and wanted to make absolutely sure that the atomic engine would not leak radiation under any circumstances. After two weeks of exhaustive testing the young inventor was satisfied and scheduled another trial run of his jet.

To Tom’s surprise Mark once again volunteered to test the rebuilt Falcon II, claiming that he had the utmost confidence in the Swifts and that problems were just part of the territory. Tom reluctantly agreed, and one bright morning in early June the Falcon II once again climbed into the skies. To Tom’s great relief the test was a success! No radiation was detected in the cockpit, and when the emergency personnel scrubbed the plane down after it landed they were unable to find any signs of a radiation leak.

Tom continued to test the jet for the remainder of the month, but at last he was satisfied that he had fixed the radiation problem. In order to celebrate his success the Swifts had a cookout at the Institute one fine summer evening. Chow eagerly volunteered to do the cooking. As always, the happy-go-lucky cook provided far more food than the Swift family could eat. Thick grilled steaks were piled high on picnic tables, accompanied by grilled corn, baked potatoes, yeast rolls, and fresh green vegetables.

“This is delicious, Chow,” Tom said, as he helped himself to a second steak. “You really know how to cook!”

“Aw, shucks, ‘twern’t nothin’,” the cook replied. “I jes’ hate to see a growin’ boy go hungry. You hardly ever eat anything, son. It’s no wonder you’re as skinny as a bean pole.”

Tom thought back to all the meals the loyal cook had brought into his lab that had gone uneaten. He turned red. “Sorry about that. I just get caught up in inventing sometimes.”

“I can tell,” Tom Sr. remarked, smiling. “Your atomic engine is a wonder! It is truly a marvel of the age. By the way, Ned was delighted to receive the blueprints. I think Hank Sterling is already working on a plan to mass-produce it.”

“Ned will have the actual jet soon,” Tom Jr. said. “Mark Spring is going to fly it to our California testing center tomorrow morning.”

“Now that there’s a real shame,” Chow interjected. “I was hopin’ I’d get to fly it.”

Tom’s eyes grew wide. “You mean to tell me that you’re a pilot?”

Chow nodded. “Well, o’course, son. Who d’ya think was acting as copilot the day we met? ‘Twern’t anyone on that old bucket but Thorndyke and me. I’ve been flyin’ fer years.”

Tom shook his head in wonder. “I had no idea! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Chow shrugged. “You never asked.”

Tom’s father laughed. “Is there anything else we should know about you, Chow?”

The balding cook thought for a moment. “I always did want to be a spaceman,” he replied. “‘Course, I figger it won’t be long before you Swifts go gallivantin’ off into space. When you do you’ll need a cook. Otherwise you gents are liable to starve to death.”

Tom Jr. smiled. “Don’t worry, Chow. If we ever do make it up into outer space we’ll be sure to bring you along. After all, we can’t leave an old friend like you behind!”

Irene spoke up. “You mean when you make it into outer space,” she corrected. “I will have you know that it is a foregone conclusion.”

“I don’t know,” Tom teased. “I might decide to become a submariner instead. They say there’s a lot of interesting plant life at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Oh, sure,” Irene said dismissively. She pointed to the full moon that was on the horizon of the darkening sky. “Just look at that orb over there, skipper. You can’t honestly tell me you wouldn’t like to be standing on that cratered surface, looking up at the Earth high in the sky.”

“She’s got a good point,” Tom Sr. replied. “I’ve done a lot of exploring in my life, but I truly believe that in this modern age the real adventures are just beginning. Who can even imagine what mysteries can be found on the planets, or the stars beyond them?”

Sandy spoke up. “I wish Phyl could be here,” Tom’s sister said. “She’s missing all the fun.”

“Why didn’t she come?” Irene asked. “I mean, school’s out for the summer, and we’ve got plenty of room. I miss her too. Us girls haven’t been out shopping together in ages.”

“I can answer that,” Tom Sr. said. “Remember, the government considers the Institute to be an ultra-sensitive facility. There are very few organizations that are allowed to conduct atomic experiments on the scale that we are doing here. It was very, very difficult for me to persuade the government to allow my wife and daughter to be here. Trying to get a pass for Phyl was simply not going to happen.”

“What a shame!” Irene said. “I know we can’t all be nuclear physicists, but she did enjoy hanging around Swift Enterprises. She’s got to be lonely with all of us away from Shopton.”

“On a more positive note, I believe our work here is wrapping up,” Tom Sr. said. “My nuclear experiments have been completed successfully and construction on Tom’s hyperplane begins in the morning. By early August it should be ready to fly.”

“I should be fully recovered by then,” Tom Jr. remarked. “I am really ready to start walking again. Not being able to work on the Falcon II has been aggravating. I miss being hands-on.”

Tom Sr. spoke up. “Speaking of being hands-on, there’s something I need your help with, Son. I know you’re busy but if you could spare a few evenings over the next couple weeks I would really appreciate it.”

“I think we can work that out,” Irene said. “What’s up?”

The two Toms exchanged glances. Irene raised her eyebrows. “Oh, it’s that project. The one you won’t tell me about. I should have known.” She sighed. “You do realize that the suspense is killing me, right?”

Tom Jr. grinned. “Of course! That’s half the fun right there.”

Irene looked at him sourly. Everyone laughed.

As predicted, construction on the hyperplane was completed by the end of July. Tom had hoped to wrap up the project quickly, but designing the enhanced Sampson engine proved to be much trickier than he originally thought. He struggled for weeks to find a light, compact, and yet powerful design that could provide enough thrust to accelerate the plane to Mach 15. Once the engine was built he had to perfect the plane itself, and once again he found himself faced with a bracing challenge.

But late one evening in July he found himself in his father’s laboratory, talking with his dad. The two of them had been at work for hours. A large machine filled most of his father’s laboratory and father and son were sitting beside it, waiting for it to complete its work. Tom Jr. had finally recovered from his injuries and was able to walk around with no wheelchair in sight.

“I really think I’ve got it,” Tom Jr. said. “I realize there’s a lot we don’t know about hypersonic flight, but if my calculations are correct the plane should be stable. All the tests we’ve done indicates that this really should work.”

Tom Sr. nodded. “I agree, Son. I believe it is time to test your plane and see how it behaves.”

“And that will happen two days from now, Dad. In just two days the Eagle will take to the skies for the first time. I can hardly wait.”

Tom’s father looked at the machine in front of them. He had a distant look in his eye. After a few minutes he brought himself back to the present. “I’m glad we decided to do this,” he said at last. “This is one thing that’s always bothered me.”

“I had no idea it would take this long,” Tom Jr. replied. “Or be so expensive. I dramatically underestimated the complexity of making diamonds.”

Tom Sr. smiled. “It’s ok, Son. The ability to manufacture diamonds will be invaluable. There are many industrial uses for diamonds, especially if we can manufacture them cheaply and in sizable quantities. This is a process that was worth perfecting. Your design is quite brilliant.”

“Of course, we couldn’t have done it without your reactor,” Tom Jr. pointed out. “It takes a tremendous amount of energy to do this.”

“Energy the diamond makers obtained from bolts of lightning,” Tom Sr. said, remembering an adventure from his early days. “We’re not creating diamonds in quite the same way they did, but at least we don’t have to depend on thunderstorms. Today we can harness the power of the atom.”

His son glanced at his watch for the upteenth time. Tom’s father saw this and smiled. “Just give it a few more minutes. The batch is almost done.”

“I know,” Tom replied. “It’s just getting close, that’s all. I really want to propose to Irene after the hyperplane makes its first test flight, and that’s just two days away. Even if this batch is good it’ll be tough for the jeweler to polish the diamond and get it set in a ring in that amount of time. I really thought we would be done weeks ago.”

“Large diamonds are much harder to make than small ones,” Tom Sr. pointed out. “We’ve been able to make microscopic diamonds for months. Scaling the process to make large, jewel-quality gems has been tough. But we’ve been getting some pretty good batches over the past couple days.”

Tom Jr. stood up and began pacing around the room. “Do you think she’ll like it?” he asked.

“I have no doubt,” his father replied. “You didn’t go out and buy a diamond for her, Son. Instead you created one using your ingenuity and skill. The ring will mean far more because she will know you went through enormous trouble to create it just for her. She will adore it. Besides,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “I think she’ll be glad that you finally asked her. She’s not quite as patient as your mother.”

“I guess not,” Tom Jr. said, grinning. “But I wouldn’t want her to be any other way.”

A few minutes later the machine finished its work. Tom Jr. carefully opened a heavy metal panel. After putting on protective gear he reached inside and removed a hard, black cylinder. He carefully transferred the cylinder to another machine, where his father began dousing it with chemicals.

“It’s still pretty warm,” Tom Jr. remarked.

“As you would expect,” his father replied. “The heat and pressure it takes to make diamonds is extraordinary. I don’t know how we would have contained that much pressure without Tomasite. Now all we need to do is dissolve the excess carbon and see what kind of diamonds we created.”

Tom watched anxiously as his father processed the hardened carbon cylinder. After an hour’s work a small pile of dirty pebbles rested in a glass dish. Tom picked up the largest one and held it up to the light. “It’s beautiful,” he said at last.

Tom Sr. examined the diamond over his son’s shoulder. “That’s probably at least three-quarters of a carat. Of course, the processed stone will be somewhat smaller.”

“But it’s big enough to work,” Tom breathed excitedly. “I can’t believe it. We did it!”

Tom Sr. clapped his son on the back. “Yes we did, Tom. If you’d like I would be happy to take the stone to the jeweler first thing in the morning. I can even pick it up for you so that Irene won’t be suspicious. With luck you should have it just in time.”

Tom Jr. handed the diamond back to his father, smiling happily. “This is great! Thanks, Dad. That would be wonderful. The hyperplane will fly in two days, and then I’ll give the ring to Irene and ask her to marry me. Boy, that will be a great day!”

“A day to remember,” Tom Sr. said. “A day you will never forget.”

High above the hangar floor Tom struggled to maintain his hold on to the iron railing. He desperately grasped it with both hands and attempted to pull himself back onto the walkway. But just as he was exerting all his strength to pull himself to safety the final struts securing the walkway to the ceiling snapped, sending the catwalk hurtling to the ground!

Irene screamed as she watched Tom fall and slam into the ground, narrowly missing the burning remains of the radioactive Falcon. From her vantage point on the surviving section of the catwalk she could see that Tom was badly injured. Blind panic gripped her heart. All thoughts of the intruders left her mind as she realized that Tom was not moving.

“No!” she screamed, running like mad down the metal walkway. She made it to the ladder and climbed down to the ground without realizing what she was doing. With all thoughts of danger thrown aside she ran to his body and knelt beside it. When she saw the extent of Tom’s injuries she began to cry.

“No no no no no!” she screamed. She buried her face in her hands. “Please, please don’t die,” she begged her unconscious friend. “You can’t do this, Tom. You can’t leave me.”

Irene struggled to pull herself together and ran over to a phone that was hanging on the wall. “Operator, I need a doctor in here immediately,” she said between sobs. “Tom Swift is – hurt. Real bad. Please, please send someone.”

After receiving a promise that a medical team would be there in moments she collapsed onto the floor.

* * * * *

A few hours later Irene was sitting in the surgical waiting lounge in the infirmary at the Institute. Tom’s father had just gone in to talk to the doctors, and she was waiting anxiously to hear the news. With her were Tom’s mother Mary and sister Sandy.

Emotionally Irene was a wreck. All she could think about was Tom lying there injured and still. The medical team responded immediately and took him straight to surgery, where he had been for the past three hours. A cold, dark fear gripped Irene’s heart. She felt like her world was coming to an end. Mary and Sandy had both tried to calm her down but she refused to be comforted.

When Tom Sr. at last emerged he walked over to his wife and sat down beside her. “So what did the doctors say?” Mary asked.

“It will take some time but he’ll recover,” Tom Sr. assured her. “He’s broken both of his legs in more than a dozen places, and broke some ribs, and bruised some internal organs. And he’s pretty banged up. But it’s nothing that won’t heal in time.”

Irene looked at him for a moment, and then replied, her voice filled with emotion. “I thought he had died,” she said quietly. “I was sure the fall had killed him.”

“But he didn’t,” Mary replied. She put her arm around Irene and held her. “It will be ok, dear. My son will live to get himself in trouble yet again.”

Sandy spoke up. “This isn’t the first time he’s been injured, you know. Don’t you remember the kite-flying incident?”

Irene cracked a small smile. “I remember. For a nine-year-old he sure could get into a lot of trouble.”

Tom Sr. nodded. “But he recovered from that, and he’ll recover from this, I’m sure. I know he gave you quite a scare, but remember, you gave him quite a scare too. When Xanthus shot you in my office my son was convinced it was fatal. His first question when he regained consciousness was to ask what had happened to you.”

“I know,” Irene said quietly. “I know, sir. But Tom can’t die. He can’t. I won’t let that happen.”

“You’ll be able to see him in a couple hours,” Tom Sr. assured her. “They still have him sedated from surgery, and they’d like to keep him under for a while. I told the doctors to let you know the moment he can see visitors. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

“Thanks,” Irene said. She stood up and hugged Tom’s dad tightly, her eyes filling with tears. “Thanks for understanding.”

* * * * *

True to their word, the doctors let Irene know a few hours later that Tom had regained consciousness and could see visitors. Irene spent every waking moment of the next week in his hospital room. At Tom’s insistence she assembled a team to begin work on rebuilding the Sampson engine and constructing a Falcon II, but she refused to be on that team. Her place, she said, was at Tom’s side.

“So whatever happened to the intruders?” Tom asked one day, as he was sitting in his hospital bed. “I don’t think anyone ever told me.”

Irene shook her head. “We didn’t. I thought I’d wait until you got better to break the news to you. It’s not pretty, skipper.”

“You mean they got away?” Tom said, surprised.

“Not entirely,” Irene replied. “Here’s what happened. After you raised the alarm their plane was seized, and they even caught the goons that blew up the Falcon. As we thought they were Brungarians. The plane was actually a Swift-model jet – I guess they picked one of our own planes so they could land without attracting attention.”

Tom nodded. “That makes sense. But if security caught them then how did they get away?”

“Security didn’t catch all of them,” Irene explained. “Just the ones that were in the hangar. It turns out that the hangar crowd blew up your jet to attract attention so that the guards would focus on apprehending them. And that’s exactly what happened. It allowed the rest of the group the time they needed to break into your father’s laboratory.”

Tom sighed. “What did they get?”

“Everything,” Irene said glumly. “They got his reactor design and the plans for making Tomasite. They even had time to break into your lab and steal both your hyperplane design and the blueprints for the Sampson 9000.”

“But how did they get away?” Tom asked. “I mean, we had their plane, didn’t we?”

Irene nodded. “Sure. But they just stole a truck and drove right off the base. Since they had stolen amulets and were using a Swift truck they didn’t raise any attention. After all, everyone’s focus was on the hangar.”

Tom shook his head. “That is bad news. But at least what they got was incomplete. I’m nowhere near finished with the Sampson engine, and the hyperplane plans aren’t finished. But it is a tough blow.”

“There is a tiny bit of good news,” Irene said. “Security was able to pinpoint the employees that helped the intruders get away. Based on the documents they found in their possession they were able to locate the spies at Swift Enterprises as well. Your dad thinks we may finally have uprooted all the traitors. They’re being questioned, and so far all signs are pointing to Xanthus.”

“Makes sense,” Tom said. “I guess we know what he’s after now. I just wish we hadn’t made getting it so easy for him. Is there anything else?”

Irene thought for a moment. “The intruders did leave a threatening note behind in your Dad’s office. Xanthus apparently took a piece of wood and burnt a message into it. Your dad really freaked out when he saw it.”

“What did it say?” Tom asked.

“‘Judgment Day is coming'”, Irene replied. “A bit unoriginal, if you ask me. But it sure was effective. I’d never seen your Dad so upset before. I think he was genuinely frightened.”

“Where did the wood come from?” Tom said. “They didn’t carve their threat into his desk, did they?”

Irene shook her head. “No, it was on a block they’d brought with them. I didn’t recognize the type of wood, but then I’m not a dendrologist.”

Tom nodded. “You know, speaking of trees, I can’t wait to get out of this hospital room. It feels like it’s been ages since I was in the lab. I wasn’t made to just sit still and do nothing.”

“You are getting out next week,” Irene pointed out cheerfully. “Of course, you won’t be able to walk for months but I’ll help you get around.” She smiled. “You’ll be out of here just in time to witness the completion of the Falcon II! I can’t wait to see that jet fly.”

Tom reached out and took Irene’s hand. He squeezed it. “Thanks,” he said softly. “For everything.”

She smiled, and then leaned over the bed and kissed him. “You’re welcome,” she replied.

* * * * *

Early the following week Tom was discharged from the hospital. Since he was unable to get around on his own the doctors gave him a wheelchair, which Irene immediately took charge of. Tom was not happy at the thought of being wheelchair-bound for the next eight weeks, but there was nothing he could do about it. With Irene’s help, however, he had little trouble getting around the Institute.

Work on the Falcon II progressed rapidly, and a few days later the plane was ready for its initial test flight.

“So who is the test pilot?” Tom asked Irene, as a team of highly-skilled workers made a final check on the atomic plane.

“Mark Spring has volunteered,” she said. “He’s actually from Swift Enterprises. You remember him, don’t you?”

Tom thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. We have a lot of test pilots, Ace. Is he the one with the wife and two kids?”

Irene laughed. “As if only one of them were married! But yes, he has a wife named Emily and two sons, Ted and Ray.”

“Isn’t Ted in college?” Tom asked.

Irene shook her head. “Not until this fall. He’s going to be studying aeronautics, but I think he really wants to be an astronaut.”

Tom laughed. “Then I’d better wrap this project up so I can start building rockets! I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”

Early the next morning a small group of people gathered on the runway at the Institute. Present were Tom Jr., Irene, Tom Sr., Mark Spring, and a small group of emergency personnel. The Falcon II was ready for its first test flight.

Tom Jr. rolled over to Mark in his wheelchair and shook his hand. “Good luck,” he said, smiling.

“Thanks,” Mark replied. He then got into the jet and prepared for takeoff. The rest of the group retreated to the flight control tower, where they would watch the plane on radar.

“So what’s the plan for the test?” Tom Sr. asked, as they rode an elevator to the top of the tower.

“The plane will take off conventionally,” his son explained. “Once it gets off the ground Mark will engage the Sampson engine and bring the plane up to a maximum speed of 500 mph. He’ll then put the jet through a battery of tests. The entire flight shouldn’t take more than a half-hour. After he lands we’ll inspect the plane and make sure everything is sound, and then tomorrow we’ll attempt supersonic flight.”

“It will take off without using the atomic motor?” Tom Sr. asked, surprised. “Why is that?”

“The Sampson engine will only work if the plane is in motion,” Irene explained. “It can’t get the plane off the ground. It’s just one of the drawbacks to a ramjet design.”

“It’s really only a minor inconvenience,” Tom Jr. added. “All we need is to get the plane into the air. Once it’s flying the Sampson engine can take over.”

“Interesting,” Tom Sr. said. “It sounds quite different from anything I’ve built before.”

At the top of the control tower were three flight controllers. When the Swifts walked into the room one of them spoke up. “The Falcon II is requesting clearance for takeoff, Mr. Swift.”

“Then let’s do it,” Tom Jr. replied. He walked over to the control panel and sat down. After checking the telemetry data from his jet he nodded. “We’re ready.”

The flight controller made sure that no other planes were in the area and gave Mark clearance for takeoff. The Falcon II taxied into position, and with a roar of its engines it took to the skies! Once the jet had lifted off the runway and exceeded 200 mph Mark contacted the flight controllers. “Are you ready for me to engage the Sampson engine?” he asked.

Tom quickly checked the data on the screen in front of him. “The reactor temperature looks good and the flight systems appear to be stable. Tell him to go for it.”

The flight controller relayed the information and a moment later Mark flipped the switch. Instantly the jet surged forward in a mighty burst of power! The plane climbed rapidly to 500 mph, where Mark eased back on the reactor output.

Over the next thirty minutes Mark put the jet through a variety of tests. Tom closely monitored the engine’s performance while Irene kept an eye on the reactor. “It’s looking pretty good,” she said at last. “Of course, we are just using a fraction of its power.”

Tom nodded. “The real test will be tomorrow morning. Still, I’m very pleased! This is good news.”

Tom’s father clapped his son on the back. “It looks like you have reached another milestone, Son! I’ll look forward to tomorrow’s demonstration.”

Tom Jr. gave the order to have the jet brought in for a landing, and Mark brought the Falcon II back home. “She handles beautifully,” Mark radioed enthusiastically. “This is an amazing plane!”

After making sure the jet had landed safely Tom Jr. dismissed the emergency personnel that had been on standby and the group left the tower. “So how is your project going, Dad?” Tom asked, as Irene pushed his wheelchair toward the hangar.

“Very well,” Tom Sr. replied. “In fact, we’re going to turn on the reactor the day after tomorrow. You’re more than welcome to be there if you’d like.”

“It would be an honor,” Irene said. “I’m sure your reactor will be a success.”

“I hope so,” he replied. “The governor of New York is anxious for us to begin construction on the commercial facility I promised to build. He wants our home state to be the first one in the nation to have a nuclear power plant.”

“But what about your other project?” Tom Jr. replied.

“Oh!” Tom Sr. explained. “That other project. It’s coming along well. I have all the parts and have started assembling them. It will be ready when you need it.”

“What project is this?” Irene asked curiously. “Have I missed something?”

“All in good time,” Tom Jr. said mysteriously. “You’ll see.”

“You know, you can’t go anywhere without me,” Irene pointed out. “Walking is not on your agenda until August. If you’re going to work on this ‘other project’ then I’ll have to be involved.”

“Where there’s a will there’s a way,” Tom quipped. “But don’t worry – you’ll find out. Just be patient.”

Tom and Irene spent the rest of the day checking their experimental aircraft. To their delight the plane was in perfect condition! Satisfied, Tom ordered another test flight the following morning. After getting a good night’s rest the group once again found themselves in the flight control tower at the Institute, watching the Falcon II take off. When Mark asked for clearance to engage the atomic engine Tom granted it without hesitation.

The Sampson engine immediately roared into action. The plane’s speed built up quickly, and Mark soon exceeded the speed of sound. Tom reviewed the telemetry data with great satisfaction. “The plane appears to be stable at supersonic speeds!”

“The reactor looks good,” Irene commented. “I’m not seeing any signs of problems.”

“Then let’s keep going,” Tom said. He gave Mark permission to push the jet to its limit. Over the next ten minutes Mark slowly increased the speed of the plane, until it was at last roaring over the Arizona desert at a speed of Mach 3.

Tom Sr. whistled. “Nice job, Son! The Falcon II is officially our fastest plane. She’s something you can be proud of!”

Tom nodded proudly. “The Sampson engine is performing very well. I think next we’ll have Mark perform some maneuvers. I’d like to know – ”

“Tom!” Irene shouted. “The reactor – something wrong!”

Tom glanced over at the reactor’s telemetry data and frowned. “Strange! No, wait a minute. Those numbers don’t make any sense! They’re garbage, Irene. What’s going on?”

“I know,” Irene replied. “Something’s corrupting the data. I have no idea what the reactor is doing. I don’t like this!”

“We’d better have Mark land,” Tom said thoughtfully. “It may just be a broken sensor, or – ”

A flight controller interrupted him. “We’re getting an urgent message from Mark! He said the radiation detector in the cockpit is going off. Radiation levels are climbing!”

Tom gasped. “Have him land the plane immediately, if he can. We must be losing shielding!”

The intense blast tore the reactor apart and sent pieces of it smashing violently against the protective barrier. Steam began billowing out of the machine, accompanied by a high-pitched whine. Within moments the transparent Tomasite barrier began fogging up. Irene was petrified for a moment, but she forced herself into action. “Readings?” she asked with a shaky voice.

Tom glanced down at the readings. “All the gauges are reading zero right now.”

“Of course,” Irene muttered. “The sensors are broken. We’ll have to do this the hard way.” The girl stood up and backed away from the table. She grabbed a Geiger counter and began taking radiation readings. Chow stood up as well but said nothing, keeping an eye fixed on Irene.

“Well?” Tom asked. He stared glumly at the ruined remains of his reactor.

“I’m not detecting any radiation leaks,” Irene said slowly. “I can see some deep scratches in the Tomasite from where I’m standing but apparently they haven’t penetrated all the way through. I think the barrier is holding for now.”

Tom slumped down in his chair in relief. “You have no idea how glad I am.”

“Wanna bet?” Irene replied. She quickly walked over to the wall and smashed the emergency button. Instantly the room was filled with red light and a shrill warning siren started going off.

“What did you do that for?” Tom asked, startled.

“Because we have an emergency, you lunkhead,” Irene snapped. “I don’t know if you noticed, but your reactor just exploded.”

“But I don’t think it was the reactor,” Tom argued. “We were heating air as a part of the test, and the air got too hot and produced more pressure than we had planned for. That’s the problem. The reactor actually worked.”

“The reactor was blown apart, Tom!” Irene shouted. “It’s in pieces right now! Highly radioactive, dangerous pieces at that! We need people in here now to do something about it before we have an even bigger problem. That barrier is holding right now but I can’t guarantee that will last forever.”

“I guess I’ll be gettin’ back to me galley,” Chow said, gulping.

“All right,” Tom said. “We’ll let you know when we’re ready to run another test.”

“You do that, boss,” Chow said. “I’ll arrange to call in sick that day.”

Irene shook her head as she watched the cook hastily leave the room. “That could have gone a lot better. We did not think this through.”

“But it was a success,” Tom said, his eyes glowing. “It worked! We heated the air, Ace. This is going to work – I can feel it.”

“I’m feeling something all right, but it’s not the thrill of success,” Irene grumbled. “A few more victories like this and they’ll have to peel our remains off the floor.”

“You worry too much,” Tom replied. “In my book, any test you can walk away from is a good one.”

It took the hazardous waste crew the rest of the day to dismantle the reactor and dispose of the pieces. Early the next morning, however, Tom was back at work. This time he was taking a different approach.

“I think we’ve proven that the basic concept works,” Tom explained to Irene. “What I want to do now is build a miniature jet engine – the same thing that we’ll eventually put on a plane, but built to a much smaller scale. There’s not really enough room in the lab to test it, so we’ll just fabricate it in here and test it outside.”

“Sounds like a good plan, skipper,” Irene replied. “Do you have the engine designed yet?”

“I did that months ago,” Tom said. “It’ll need some readjustment now that we’ve had some actual experience, but I think it’s nothing the two of us can’t handle.”

“Then let’s get to it!” Irene said cheerfully.

Tom retrieved the blueprints from the laboratory safe and the two spent the rest of the day making changes to the drawings. That afternoon Tom’s father walked into the laboratory.

“So how’s it going?” he asked.

“Wonderful,” his son replied. He put down his pencil and turned his attention to his father.

“Much better than yesterday,” Irene added. “Things got a little too exciting in here.”

Tom’s father smiled. “I heard about you’re little brush with disaster. It’s the first emergency we’ve had since opening! You’re off to a good start, son.”

Tom grinned. “I’m holding true to Swift tradition. But I think it was actually a success in disguise. After all, it did prove that the idea worked.”

Irene shook her head. “I think that both of you are out of your mind. If that Tomasite barrier had failed we would have been in big trouble.”

“But it held,” Tom Jr. pointed out. “And that made all the difference.”

“So are you rebuilding the unit?” Tom Sr. asked. He glanced over their shoulders at the blueprints they had been studying.

“We’re actually moving on to the next step,” his son said. “I want to build a miniature atomic jet engine – sort of a scale model to what will be on our first test aircraft. Irene and I hope to have it ready for tests by the end of the week.”

“We do?” Irene asked.

“You bet,” Tom Jr. said excitedly.

“Wonderful,” Tom’s father said. “Speaking of demonstrations, I was wondering if I could get your opinion on something I’ve been working on. I don’t want to interrupt your work but I would value your input, if you happen to have a moment to spare.”

“Of course!” Irene said. She jumped off of her stool. “How can we help?”

“Just follow me,” Tom Sr. said. Tom Jr. put his engine plans back in the safe and secured the laboratory. The group then exited the building, and Tom’s father led them to a small jeep. After everyone had taken a seat he drove them to the plant’s main reactor. Once they reached it everyone got out of the jeep and approached the entrance.

“Is it finished?” Irene asked, eying the imposing concrete structure.

“No, not yet,” Tom Sr. replied. “I’m still working on it. But I’ve made a lot of progress!”

After going through security the three scientists stepped inside. Tom Sr. then led them down a long hallway and into a giant, open room. The massive inner chamber was filled with workers who were busy running wires all over the room. In the center of the room was a giant gray cylinder that stretched thirty feet high and was easily ten feet wide.

Tom and Irene gazed at it in wonder. “So is that where the reaction will take place?” Irene asked.

Tom Sr. nodded. “We’ve constructed the reaction chamber but we don’t have the Tomasite in place yet. There have been some difficulties acquiring enough material but that should be resolved shortly.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Tom Jr. said. “Are you having Hank manufacture it at Enterprises?”

Tom Sr. shook his head. “Hank would have a hard time manufacturing enough to meet our needs. No, I’ve asked Ned to take care of it. Do you remember the Tomasite factory that went online earlier this year?”

Tom nodded.

“Well, that factory has proven to be a tremendous success! So, since we already have a facility that can produce Tomasite I’ve just asked Ned to improve it so that it can make the special blend that I need. Once he finishes the upgrades he’ll be able to manufacture all the Tomasite we could want.”

“That’s great,” Tom Jr. said. “I’m glad that’s working out for you. Say, isn’t Ned also making some other additions to the facility as well?”

“Yes he is,” Tom Sr. replied. “Ned is building a facility for the testing and further development of experimental aircraft. It will be similar to what we have here, but with a slightly different focus. Once you’ve finished initial development on your hyperplane you can simply hand it over to Ned’s group, who will finish the work in California and turn the handmade plane into something that can be mass-produced. That way we won’t tie up scarce resources here and can move on to the next project.”

“Makes sense,” Tom said.

Irene continued to stare at the reactor. “I think I understand how this works,” she said slowly. “You’re sheathing the entire reactor in Tomasite, aren’t you?”

Tom Sr. nodded. “The Tomasite will convert the heat from the reaction directly to electricity, which will be carried along all of these wires that you see. The reactor uses a honeycomb design that is composed of many small cells, in order to maximize the Tomasite’s exposure to the heat.”

“But the process isn’t anywhere near 100% efficient,” Irene said. “How are you going to keep the Tomasite from melting?”

“We’re still going to have a water-based cooling system. We just haven’t built it yet. As I said, we’re still a few weeks away from starting this unit up. But I think it has a lot of promise. In fact, we’re already taking orders for commercial power plants.”

“Really?” Tom asked. “I didn’t even know they were for sale.”

“They’re not officially, but the governor of New York got wind of the project and wanted the first unit to be built in our home state. We’re already breaking ground on a small island not far from New York City. When we finish our testing here we’ll duplicate our work there. This one unit should be able to provide enough power for the entire metropolis.”

“But that’s the largest city in the country!” Irene objected. “Something like seven million people live there. How could you possibly generate that much power from simple radioactive decay?”

“Because we’re using nuclear fission, not radioactive decay,” Tom Sr. explained. “The energy we’ll get from the chain reaction is more than enough for our needs.”

“How are you going to control it?” Irene asked.

“The chain reaction will be controlled by a specially-built electronic brain. It will constantly monitor the temperature and keep it within safe levels. Since it is a machine it will be able to react to emergencies far quicker than any human.”

“Very nice,” Tom Jr. said.

“Aren’t you using highly enriched fuel?” Irene asked.

“Yes, but we’re spreading it across many individual cells, for both efficiency and safety. The enriched nature of the fuel should give us far more energy. Here, let me show you some numbers.”

For the next half-hour the group continued to discuss the technical details of the reactor. At last Irene nodded in approval. “I like your design, sir. I think it is a remarkable step forward.”

“Thank you,” Tom Sr. said, gratified. “I was hoping the two of you would approve.”

“Will you let us know when you bring it online?” Tom Jr. asked. “We’d like to be here to watch, if possible.”

“Of course,” Tom Sr. replied. “I don’t know the exact date yet, but when the time approaches I will definitely let you know. It should be sometime within the next couple weeks.”

Irene glanced down at her watch. “Hey, skipper, I hate to break this up but if we don’t head out soon we’re going to be late for dinner. I hear your mother’s serving spaghetti tonight – her own recipe, too.”

Tom Jr. nodded. “Right. Say, I have one other thing I need to talk with Dad about. Mind if I catch up with you later?”

Irene looked puzzled for a second, and then smiled sweetly. “Why of course, Tom. Take all the time you need. I’ll see you after dinner.” She nodded farewell to Tom’s father and walked off happily.

After Irene had left the building Tom Sr. chuckled. “Son, if your plan was to not raise her suspicions then you failed miserably. You’ve still got a few things to learn when it comes to keeping secrets.”

Tom Jr. grinned. “I guess so, Dad. Do you have a private office or something in this building? I’d like to run something by you.”

“Sure,” his father said. The two exited the reactor chamber and walked to a room located at the end of a short hallway. Tom Sr. opened the door into a small, simple office. After closing the door the two sat down. “So how can I help you, Son?”

Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of folded-up sheets of notebook paper. The sheets were covered with mathematical equations and hand-made drawings. “I’ve had an idea for a project, and, well, I was wondering if I could enlist your help with it.” He unfolded the sheets of paper and handed them to his Dad.

His father studied the sheets for a moment. He frowned as he read over the first page, and then flipped it over and started reading the following pages. “I see what you’re doing, Son, but I don’t understand the purpose. Why now? This doesn’t have anything to do with your hyperplane.”

“Irene,” Tom said simply. “Think about it, Dad.”

A light suddenly went off in his father’s brain. A smile slowly crept across his face. “I get it, Son. Very clever! She will like this.”

“I’d do it myself but I don’t want her to find out,” Tom Jr. explained. “She never goes into your laboratory so I thought I could design the equipment and you could build it. It shouldn’t take long to put together. Once the machine is ready I can make up an excuse and join you. Irene will be suspicious but she’ll never guess what I’m up to.”

“This will take a lot of power,” Tom Sr. said thoughtfully. “We’ll need to wait until my reactor is online, but that shouldn’t be a problem. It will take Arv Hanson some time to machine the parts anyway and get them down here.”

After having his son clarify a few details of the design he carefully folded the sheets of paper and put them in his pocket. “It would be my honor to help you, Tom. I think Irene will be very pleased.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Tom Jr replied, grinning. “So, shall we go to dinner?”

* * * * *

True to his word, by the end of the week Tom Swift Jr. had constructed a miniature version of his atomic jet engine. After giving it a final check Tom had the unit hauled out of his laboratory and off to the testing range. By the time it was in place word had spread and a fairly large crowd had gathered to see the demonstration. Even Chow ventured out of his galley to watch the trial run of Tom’s latest invention.

Once it was securely bolted to a concrete slab Irene checked it over carefully to make sure that it had not been damaged during transport. When she was satisfied that nothing was wrong the two young scientists retreated into a nearby concrete bunker. The rest of the crowd backed away from the engine and assumed a safe distance.

Tom’s father was already inside the bunker and awaiting the test. “Is everything ready?” he asked, as the two teenagers entered the room.

“As ready as I know how to make it,” Irene replied. “Emergency personnel are standing by. It’s now or never!”

Tom Jr. looked at the control board in front of him. “The purpose of this test is to see how well the engine is able to produce thrust. In the first demonstration we will keep the firing time fairly short. Once we see how it performs we can conduct more prolonged tests at a later date.”

Irene turned to Tom’s father. “Can you make sure that the area is clear?”

Tom Sr. nodded. After this was done Irene activated the warning beacon. A red light began flashing both inside the bunker and at the testing range, alerting all personnel that a test was under way.

With a deep breath Tom Jr. pressed the ignition button. At first nothing happened.

“The core temperature is building,” Irene said quietly. “We should see something soon.”

A moment later the engine roared to life! A thunderous sound shook the testing range and leveled out to a mighty roar. Tom could feel the bunker shaking. Outside heat waves emanated from the engine.

“The engine’s performance is looking good,” Irene said. “We’re exceeding five thousand pounds of thrust, and the number is still climbing.”

“How long are you going to keep it running?” Tom Sr. asked over the roar of the engine.

“Two minutes, twenty seconds,” she replied.

The engine shut down exactly on time. As the sound died down Irene shut off the warning siren and the bunker returned to normal.

“The engine peaked at eight thousand, four hundred pounds of thrust,” Irene said. “It’s well within the predicted range.”

Tom Jr. relaxed. “I knew it would work.”

“Congratulations!” Tom Sr. said. “An amazing accomplishment. You’ve done well, Son. I realize you still have a lot of testing to do on this model, but what is the next step?”

“Building an engine capable of moving a plane supersonically,” Tom Jr. replied. “And building a plane that can use the engine. We’ll test the engine first on the ground, and if it works then we’ll install it on a jet.”

“We want to take the Sampson engine in stages,” Irene explained. “We’ll start out with using only a fraction of the engine’s power, and see if we can get stable subsonic performance – say, at 500 mph. If that works then we’ll increase the speed into the supersonic range. The maximum velocity for the next model will be Mach 3.”

“That’s still not in the hypersonic range, of course,” Tom Jr. said. “But if the Sampson engine can prove itself at Mach 3 then we’ll scale up the design further and build a second plane that will be a true hypersonic craft.”

“Wonderful!” Tom Sr. exclaimed. “I’ll tell Ned the good news. He may have his hands on his first experimental jet much sooner than he expected.”

“So you think there’s a market for even our first model?” Tom Jr. asked.

“Of course,” his father replied. “I think there is a demand for a whole line of nuclear aircraft – subsonic, supersonic, and hypersonic, depending on the need. I realize the two of us are the most excited about the fastest jets, but not everyone has a need for that much speed. The fact that nuclear aircraft can run for weeks or months without needing to be refueled will be a huge selling point.”

Irene spoke up. “That reminds me. Do you think you could find a test pilot for us? We’ll need someone to run our tests.”

“I’ll take care of that immediately,” Tom Sr. promised.

* * * * *

It did not take Tom and Irene long to build a production-sized model of the Sampson 9000. The unit proved itself admirably in ground tests, to the point where Tom felt confident in beginning construction of the plane itself. Tom’s father had outdone himself in providing all the equipment necessary to fabricate an aircraft, and the production of the first experimental nuclear jet progressed rapidly.

Once the jet had been fabricated Tom and Irene personally supervised the installation of the atomic engine. The dark-gray plane was nearly fifty feet long and had a slender fuselage and delta-shaped wings. Despite its size most of the plane’s body was occupied by the nuclear reactor, leaving room for only four passengers in the cockpit and a small amount of cargo space.

Installing the engine proved to be a laborious process that took the better part of a week. One day toward the end of the installation Tom and Irene found themselves alone in the hangar. It had been a long, hard day, and at closing time the exhausted workers had packed up their equipment and left the building. Tom sat down on a nearby crate to rest a minute before the two teenagers walked back to the residential section of the base.

“At some point we’re going to need to shrink the engine a bit,” Irene said. She was standing beside Tom, studying the jet critically. “I mean, what we have now is fine, but I don’t think it will scale. We’ll need something much more efficient if we want to hit Mach 15.”

“I know,” Tom said wearily. “I’ve been thinking about that. The engine is just too heavy. But one step at a time, Ace. We’ll let the test pilot put this craft through its paces and see how it goes.”

“You never did tell me the name of this plane,” Irene said. “At least, I don’t think you did.”

“You pick something,” Tom said. “I can’t think right now.”

Irene sat down beside Tom and put her arm around him. “You are exhausted, you poor thing,” she said sympathetically. “You’ve been working too hard.”

Tom smiled. “It’s worth it, though. We’ve made a lot of progress. I’ll take a break after we get this all done, I promise.”

“You’d better,” Irene said teasingly. “Or else I’ll have Doc Simpson flown down here to ground you. It won’t do to have you die of overwork before you even turn 18! You’ve got to pace yourself, Tom.”

“So what are you going to name the plane?” Tom asked.

Irene thought for a moment. “Let’s call it the Falcon,” she said.

Tom nodded. He stood up, wearily walked over to the jet, and gently patted it on its side. “Very well. Plane, I christen thee the Falcon. Long may you reign over the skies!”

“Not too long I hope,” Irene said, giggling. “Hopefully its big brother will leave it behind in the dust.”

“Are you ready to go?” Tom asked. “I am so exhausted, Ace. I’m ready to go home and collapse.”

As the two teenagers stood up they were startled by a siren. An orange light filled the warehouse.

“We’ve had a break-in,” Tom said tersely. “Quick – to the guard tower!”

The two teenagers raced outside the building and made a beeline to the nearest guard tower. Before they made it, however, the alarm stopped. Puzzled, Tom and Irene went through security and made it to the top of the tower.

“What happened?” he asked, as he tried to catch his breath.

“False alarm,” one of the technicians said. “For a moment there were some blips on the scope, but they vanished after a couple minutes.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Tom said. He glanced at some of the displays and then peered through the glass window.

“Is something wrong?” Irene asked.

“Tell me, how many parked jets do you see on the radar unit?”

“Three,” Irene said, counting them.

“But I see four on the runway,” Tom said, pointing through the window. He picked up a pair of binoculars and studied the fourth jet.

“Why aren’t we picking it up on radar?” Irene asked.

“Because it’s coated with Tomasite,” Tom said angrily.

“That’s pretty clever!” Irene said approvingly. “Tomasite, of course, would absorb the radar beam, rending the plane invisible. I didn’t realize we were doing that.”

“We’re not,” Tom said. “It’s an intruder!”

As the chief of security shouted out orders to have the rogue jet seized Tom turned to one of them. “Didn’t you say that some blips appeared for a few moments?”

The guard nodded. “Yeah, about six of them. But they didn’t last long.”

Tom snapped his fingers. “They probably found some employees and took their amulets from them. It wouldn’t take long to do.”

“But wouldn’t the employees without amulets have shown up on radar?” Irene asked.

“Not if they were inside secured buildings,” Tom pointed out. “The patrolscope can’t penetrate any of the shielded areas.”

Tom turned to the guards and addressed them. “Men, we’ve got a security breach! Send out the guards to locate the six intruders – and ground the jet!”

As the guards rushed to comply Irene studied the jet through the window. “You know, that jet landed awfully close to the hangar that houses the Falcon,” she pointed out.

“But it’s not ready to fly yet,” Tom replied. “They couldn’t take off with it.”

“I know,” Irene said.

The two teenagers looked at each other. “We’d better go check it out,” he said at last.

While teams of armed guards searched the Institute for enemy agents, Tom and Irene raced toward the hangar. “What about their plane?” Irene asked.

“The guards will take care of it,” Tom shouted back. “Now that we know it’s there they’ll never let it take off.”

When they made it to the hangar door Tom carefully cracked it open. The two individuals quietly stepped into the darkened hangar and closed it behind them. The only light in the cavernous room was provided by the flashing warning lights.

“I don’t see anything,” Tom said.

“Neither do I,” Irene whispered back. “Let’s climb up onto the catwalk so we can get a better view.”

Tom nodded in agreement. After glancing around and making sure that no one was in sight they climbed up a ladder that led to a narrow walkway high off the ground. Once they reached the walkway the two began walking down the catwalk, peering down to the ground far below. The orange security lights cast an eerie glow over the Falcon, obscuring its details in shadow and darkness.

“I wish I had some night-vision goggles,” Tom whispered.

“You’ll have to invent some one day,” Irene replied.

“Look!” Tom hissed. Below them they saw some figures in the shadows!

“What are they doing?” Irene asked. “Are they employees?”

“Let’s take a closer look,” Tom replied. As he stood up he saw a blinding flash light up the darkened hangar. A moment later a rocket flew across the room and struck the Falcon. There was a deafening explosion!

The blast tore apart the experimental plane and sent pieces of it hurtling through the air. One entire side of the hangar was blown wide open, and other pieces of the jet slammed into the ceiling and tore apart the catwalk.

The explosion’s shockwave threw Tom off the walkway. He wildly grabbed for support and just barely managed to catch a railing with one hand. As he fought to pull himself back up he felt the entire walkway began to give way. Shrapnel had weakened the walkway’s supports and they were beginning to snap, one at a time!

“Tom!” Irene screamed.

It was a warm day in March. Tom Swift Sr. and Irene Goddard were walking down a freshly-laid sidewalk at the Institute in southern Arizona. The sun had risen only an hour earlier but there were already indications the day would be unusually hot. All around them workers were busy putting the last, finishing touches on the new facility. Painters were applying a final coat of white paint to the pristine buildings. Other people were putting up road signs, or unloading furniture from trucks, or simply directing the streams of activity.

The Swift family had decided to take up residence at the Institute a week before the plant opened so that they could be on-hand to supervise the laboratory setup. Tom’s mother had established housekeeping for the family in a spacious apartment located on the grounds. Irene had accompanied the Swift family and was living in her own place, not far from the Swifts.

That morning she had joined them for breakfast, only to find to her great surprise that Tom had arisen an hour earlier. After breakfast she accompanied Tom’s father as the two walked toward one of the guard towers.

“I can’t believe it’s almost April!” Irene remarked excitedly.

Tom Sr. nodded. “The construction crew has truly done an outstanding job. We will be able to open this facility next week, right on schedule.”

“What’s even more amazing is that Tom went to work before sunrise,” Irene joked. “Its not like him!”

“I think you’re turning him into an early riser,” Tom Sr. commented. “He’s shown a remarkable amount of enthusiasm on this new alarm system of his. I’m looking forward to seeing it demonstrated!”

“I hope he has all the bugs worked out,” Irene replied. “I mean, I’m sure he does. But some of our earlier tests were, um, not entirely successful.”

“The same could be said for nearly all my inventions,” Tom Sr. said. “It’s all part of the process.”

After a few minutes’ walk they arrived at one of the four guard towers that were located on the Institute’s grounds. Each of these massive six-story spires were located at strategic positions and built out of reinforced concrete. It was their job to keep watch over the secured facility and raise alarm should any unauthorized personnel approach, either from the ground or from the air.

The door to the tower was being guarded by two officers that stood on either side of the front entrance. Tom Sr. removed his badge from his shirt pocket and showed it to them. The guard on the right nodded in acknowledgement and opened the door. Tom and Irene then stepped inside and walked up a spiraling metal staircase to the top floor.

On the highest level of the tower was the control center. The glass-walled room had a commanding view of its corner of the plant, and was filled with the most up-to-date monitoring equipment. Normally the room was manned by several highly-trained technicians, but at the moment it was empty save for Tom Swift Jr. The young inventor was lying on his back underneath a large metal box, performing a bit of last-minute soldering.

“Be with you in a minute,” he grunted. “Just need to make a few last-minute fixes to the patrolscope. It got a bit jostled during shipping.”

“Maybe next time you shouldn’t send it by carrier pigeon,” Irene called out.

“Very funny,” Tom muttered.

Irene sat down at one of the consoles and examined it admiringly. “This room looks like it means business! I like what you’ve done to the place.”

“The security here is extremely tight,” Tom’s father agreed. “We have armed guards patrolling the fence, the boundaries of the property, and key installations within the grounds. The government has even stationed fighter jets in hangars in order to force down any unauthorized aircraft.”

“But isn’t this just a non-military research facility? That kind of seems like massive overkill. Ned has to be really unhappy at the expense.”

“The government doesn’t want to take any chances,” Tom Sr. explained. “They’re afraid that hostile countries might try to steal our nuclear expertise and put the nation in a bad position. Personally I find it difficult to believe that an army of Brungarians is going to invade a facility located in southern Arizona, but that’s the government for you.”

“I’m more worried about the protesters,” Irene said teasingly. “Did you see the pictures in the morning paper? They’re already demonstrating even though the plant isn’t open yet!”

Tom Sr. sighed. “It’s sad to see people who don’t understand the value of what we’re doing here. Our goal is to provide clean, inexpensive energy to a world that desperately needs it. If our research pays off we can increase the standard of living not just here in America but abroad as well. This facility represents progress, not the apocalypse.”

Irene nodded. “At least they can’t demonstrate right outside the gate. It was nice of the government to restrict all of the land for miles around. Nobody can even get close.”

Tom Jr. slid out from underneath the patrolscope’s wiring cabinet. He stood up and stretched. “That ought to do it. Sorry about that!”

“Not at all,” his father replied. “I take it this is the security system I’ve heard so much about?”

Tom nodded eagerly. “This is it! Now keep in mind this is just the first version. At some point I want to replace the secure door locks with amulets so all you need to carry with you is your wristwatch. That badge we’ve got to carry is so aggravating. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“Where’s the plant’s chief of security?” Tom’s father asked, looking around the room. “Doesn’t he need to see this?”

“Once we get it all set up, but not right now,” Tom explained. “I’d like to make sure it’s completely installed and operational before explaining it to someone else.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Tom’s father replied. He glanced at the machine that his son had just been working on. The main body of the patrolscope was housed in a large, refrigerator-sized box, with thick cables running out of it that plugged into sockets in the wall. Another cable was connected to an adjacent machine that appeared to house a radar display. “Should I turn it on?” Tom Sr. asked.

“First let me explain to you how it works,” his son replied. “You need to understand what you’re going to be seeing.”

“Let me do the explaining!” Irene begged. “I can handle it.”

“Be my guest!” Tom Jr. replied grandly.

Irene smiled. “Thank you, Tom. The alarm system – or patrolscope, as we prefer to call it – works by means of a sophisticated radar beam. Mounted on top of this tower is a radar dish that constantly sweeps the area. The frequency is tuned to penetrate walls and only pick up on people.”

“How is that possible?” Tom Sr. asked. “I wasn’t aware of a people-specific frequency.”

“It’s actually detecting the water within people,” Tom explained. “Humans are mostly water, after all.”

“But lots of other things have water too,” Tom Sr. pointed out. “Like the giant tanks of water that are all over this plant.”

“Or my morning cup of coffee,” Irene added. “We know. It took a bit of work to solve that problem. The system is designed to ignore very small quantities of water, and it will filter out the truly giant ones. If there are any people-sized bodies of water that we don’t want to pick up then we can just attach an amulet to it and we’ll be set.”

“We’re still a little iffy about rainstorms,” Tom admitted. “But there aren’t many of them out here in the desert. Hopefully by the time it does rain we’ll have a solution for that too.”

Tom Sr. nodded. “I’m glad you have thought that through. But what about the shielded areas? There are numerous places within this facility that cannot be penetrated by radar. My laboratory, for instance, is shielded, as is Tom’s.”

“But to get to them you have to cross the property,” Irene pointed out. “Miles of it, in fact. The system is designed to spot you long before you get to a sensitive area.”

“That’s true,” Tom Sr. conceded. “Good point. Now, how do we tell apart the employees from the intruders?”

“With this,” Tom Jr. said proudly. He took off his watch and handed it to his dad.

Tom Sr. looked at it, puzzled. “With a watch?”

Irene laughed. “That was Tom’s idea. Everyone carries a watch, so it’s a great place to hide the amulet! Those who are unfamiliar with the system will never think of looking there. They’ll be looking for a badge or something.”

“Exactly!” Tom Jr. said. “To get back to your question, the purpose of the amulet is to shield the employee from radar so that they don’t show up. Ergo, anyone not wearing a Swift watch will appear on the scope and stand out like a sore thumb.”

Tom Sr. looked at his son in amazement. “There’s not very much room in a watch, Son. How on earth could you possibly have fit a radar-shielding device inside it? Or provided the energy to run it, for that matter?”

“Magic!” Irene said, her eyes twinkling. “Your magic, to be precise.”

“Tomasite?” he asked uncertainly.

“Tomasite,” his son affirmed. “We’ve tweaked the formula a little bit. Normally Tomasite just absorbs radar, and while that’s nice it doesn’t really help us. The modified version reflects it, but it creates a distortion field that wrecks havoc with the signal.”

“It’s like a fun-house mirror,” Irene explained. “A signal does get reflected, but the distortion field degrades it. The machine picks up on the degraded signal and filters it out so it doesn’t appear on the scope.”

“Amazing,” Tom Sr. said. “Truly amazing. And you can scan the entire base from this one guard tower?”

His son shook his head. “Oh no, definitely not. We’re going to put one of these units in each tower.”

“Are you going to tie the systems together?” his father asked.

“At some point,” Tom said. “Probably not today. As I said, there’s still some work to be done.”

“Load testing is what worries me,” Irene confessed. “We’ve seen it work with a couple amulets, but I don’t know what will happen when there are hundreds of them out there. And I don’t know how the system will react when multiple scanners overlap. Or, for that matter, whether other things around the plant will create dead zones where people won’t be picked up.”

“But we’ll overcome those problems,” Tom Jr. said confidently.

“I’m sure you will,” his father agreed. “So is it time for a demonstration?”

“You bet!” Irene said. “Care to do the honors?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Tom Sr. replied. He reached over and pressed the button to activate the patrolscope. Instantly the machine hummed to life! A series of red and yellow lights began blinking on the outside of the box.

“That’s good,” Tom Jr. said quietly. “Power-up was successful and the system diagnostic found no problems. Now to tie in the radar signal.” He flipped a switch on the radar unit, bringing it to life. A green line appeared on the display and began rotating clockwise, indicating the part of the screen that was currently being updated. The rest of the screen was completely blank.

“Should I be seeing something?” his dad asked.

“Just a second,” Tom replied. “The calibration may be off.” He walked over to a table, grabbed a sheaf of papers, and began flipping through them. “I know I’ve got the numbers here somewhere.”

Irene shook her head, kneeled onto the ground, and picked a yellow pad off the floor. “Here you go, skipper! I think you might have left this behind”

Tom glanced at the pad. “Oh, right – I was just using that. Thanks!” He took the pad from her and compared the numbers to the settings on the machine.

“Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully. “Let me try adjusting a few tolerances.” He slowly turned a small knobs on the exterior of the patrolscope.

Almost instantly the radar screen was covered in a sold mass of green! Irene giggled. “Keep going,” she said.

Tom frowned. “I don’t get it. What am I missing?”

“I think you’re having trouble with the signal quality,” Irene pointed out. “The working range was really narrow, remember?”

Tom nodded. “I remember. It took us forever to find a combination of frequencies that would work.” He flipped to a different page on the yellow pad, took out a screwdriver, and removed the case from the radar unit. “Let me adjust this to put out a little tighter beam.”

As he worked the screen suddenly changed. Little green dots began to appear!

Irene cheered. “Much better!”

“Where are we?” Tom Sr. said, as he examined the screen.

“We’re not on there,” Tom said, as he closed the machine and put his screwdriver away. “Because of where the radar dish is located it’s not going to pick up on people inside the guard tower. However, there is a way to test it. I have with me one normal wristwatch and one with an amulet inside. Irene and I will both put on watches and then go outside and walk around the plant. If this machine works you should be able to see one of us but not the other.”

Tom’s father nodded. “That makes sense. But how does this screen correspond to the plant layout?”

“I told you we needed an overlay map,” Irene told Tom. “I’ll try to put one together this afternoon.” She then pointed to various positions on the screen and explained how they corresponded to the various buildings around the Institute.

When she was done Tom put on one watch and gave Irene the other. “I’ve got the one with the amulet,” Irene said proudly.

“Ready?” Tom asked his father.

“Ready,” Tom’s father replied.

The two teenagers walked downstairs and out of the building. When they left the building Tom’s father saw one dot appear. He was able to track his son as he walked down the sidewalk, but he could not see Irene at all.

“Amazing!” he breathed.

Over the next three days Tom and Irene calibrated the new alarm system and installed it in the other three guard towers. Tom had given Hank Sterling all the information he needed to mass-produce the amulets, and the day before the Institute opened Hank flew down enough amulet-bearing watches for all the employees. When the watches arrived Tom taught the security personnel how to operate the new system.

The following morning when the facility opened the watches were distributed to all employees. Tom spent the day babysitting the new system, but to his tremendous relief they had no major problems.

At the end of the day he had dinner with Irene in the mess hall. “So how’d it go?” Irene asked, as she ate a chicken sandwich.

“Beautifully,” Tom said. “Better than I had hoped. There are a few minor issues, but nothing I can’t solve. Most of the dead zones should be fixed by the end of the week. I’d also like to tweak the design of the amulet a little bit before we implement this at Swift Enterprises – there are times when it doesn’t capture the signal as well as I’d like. But for a first release I think it’s pretty good.”

“So when can you join me in the lab?” Irene asked.

“Tomorrow morning, bright and early,” Tom said, smiling. “There are other people here who can handle making the final tweaks to the patrolscope. It’s time to bring the nuclear age to the skies!”

“There is one other thing we need to address,” Irene said, as she finished her sweet tea.

“What’s that?” Tom asked.

“The food, of course,” Irene remarked. “We need to bring in Chow pronto. He wasn’t kidding – this stuff really is terrible!”

Tom laughed. “We’re just spoiled is all. But I agree, it would be great to have Chow back. Somehow it doesn’t seem right to be in Nitro without him. I’ll give him a call tomorrow and see if we can work something out.”

True to his word, the following day Tom gave Chow a call and persuaded the happy-go-lucky cook to come and work at the Institute for the summer. Chow was pleased to hear from him and quickly agreed. That afternoon he arrived and settled into his galley. The cook instantly became a plant favorite and started preparing the meals for all the scientists who worked in Tom’s building, but he always took special care of Tom and Irene.

One day several weeks later Chow rolled a cart piled high with food into Tom’s lab. As he was about to announce that lunch was ready a giant machine in the center of the lab caught his attention. “Well brand my turnips, but what in tarnation is that?”

Tom grinned. “This is the prototype for the Sampson 9000, Chow! What you’re seeing here is the latest in modern technology.”

“Or it will be once it’s finished,” Irene explained.

“Ya don’t say,” Chow said dubiously. He parked his cart and walked around the invention. The machine was a maze of wires, tubes, and metal. Underneath the metal he could see Tomasite shielding, and the machine itself was enclosed entirely behind a protective Tomasite barrier. “I’ve never seen so much plumbing in all my life. What’s it supposed to do?”

“We named it after good old Eradicate “Rad” Sampson,” Tom explained. “He was such a good friend of the family that it only seemed fitting.”

“We were going to call it the Rad 9000 but we decided against it,” Irene added. “What with rad being the term for a unit of absorbed radiation and all.”

“The marketing department would have gone into fits,” Tom agreed. “Besides, the name Sampson carries with it an idea of strength, and that’s exactly the meaning we want to convey.”

“I still don’t get it,” Chow said.

“It’s basically an engine,” Tom explained. “We’re going to use it to drive a new type of airplane. What it will do is take in air, superheat it, and send it out of the rear of a compressor. This will provide thrust. The heat will be provided by a nuclear reaction.”

“That don’t look much like an engine to me,” Chow remarked. “Where’s the plane?”

Tom laughed. “There is no plane, Chow – not yet, anyway. This is just a test unit. All we’re trying to do is build a Tomasite-shielded reactor and test some techniques for superheating air. We’re not nearly ready to put this on a plane yet.”

“In fact, we were just about ready to test it again,” Irene said brightly. “Would you like to stay and watch?”

“It is safe?” Chow asked.

“So far we’ve had trouble getting it to run at all,” Tom said sourly. “You’d be better off using a campfire. The reaction is too low, and what little heat we’re getting isn’t being transferred to the air.”

Chow pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the machine. “I’m ready, boss,” he said. “It ain’t every day you get to see somethin’ like this. What do I need to be watchin’ fer?”

Tom sat down in front of a console and pointed to some gauges. “Irene is going to start the reaction. When she does you should see the core temperature start rising. This other gauge measures the temperature of the air that we’re trying to heat. If it works you should see the air temperature rise and pressure start to build. Are you ready, Irene?”

The girl shook her head. “Don’t forget the radiation suits, Tom. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Are you sure it’s necessary?” Tom asked. “After all, the reactor is behind some pretty thick Tomasite shielding. It’ll provide plenty of protection.”

“It is absolutely necessary,” Irene replied firmly. “Radiation isn’t something you can take chances with, kid. If something goes wrong and that shielding fails you are going to be hurting in a big way. Radiation plays for keeps.”

“Ok,” Tom conceded. “You have a good point.” Tom walked over to the closet and got out the radiation suits. He put one on himself and handed one each to Irene and Chow. After they were all suited up Tom nodded to Irene, who initiated the reaction.

Chow watched, wide-eyed, as the core temperature began building. After a few minutes it leveled off. “Is that good, boss?”

Tom shrugged. “It’s in line with what we’ve seen before. Irene, let’s turn it up a bit higher. The work we’ve done the past few days should dramatically increase the heat throughput.”

Irene nodded and turned it up. The quantity of heat produced by the reactor started climbing again! Over the next few minutes the readings on the gauges steadily increased.

“This is looking pretty good,” Tom said, pleased. “The heat is finally being transferred to the air. We’re getting some good pressure!”

Irene studied the board and frowned. “We’re getting way too much pressure. I don’t like this. How strong are those welds, anyway?”

A moment later they were jarred by a sudden, loud bang. The reactor started making a hissing noise!

Irene’s gasped as she saw superheated steam begin pouring out of the test unit. She immediately reached over and pressed the kill switch.

“The air temperature’s still climbing,” Tom said curtly.

“But the reactor core temperature is dropping!” Irene shouted over the noise of the machine. “The reaction is shutting down. How can the temperature possibly be climbing?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said, with fear in his voice. “The explosion may have damaged the cooling system. Look!”

Irene looked at the reactor and gasped. Through the protective barriers she saw that the reactor’s Tomasite shielding was starting to melt!

“We’re losing shielding,” Irene gasped. “Tom! That plumbing was never meant to – ”

The girl was interrupted by a thunderous explosion!

Early the next morning Irene walked briskly toward the men’s dormitory. To her surprise Tom Swift Jr. was already awake and outside, seated on a pile of bricks. When he saw her he closed the small notebook he always carried with him and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

“Good morning,” Tom said cheerfully. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Hardly,” Irene replied. “The women’s dormitory leaves a lot to be desired, Tom. It is definitely not a five-star resort.”

Tom laughed. “All that will change a couple months from now after the residential housing has been completed. The scientists who work here will be able to live at the Institute in comfortable, ultramodern apartments. I believe they’ll even have access to tennis courts and a swimming pool.”

“They might be forced to live here, given the local population’s opinion of this place,” Irene said sourly. “We’re not exactly a popular outfit.”

“Just give them time to warm up to us. When they see that nothing bad is happening and that we’re a huge boost to the local economy they will change their tune. The evil villains of the world can only cry wolf for so long before people get wise.”

“So you think an evil villain was responsible for what happened yesterday?” Irene asked.

Tom nodded and stood up. He handed Irene her hard-hat and put one on himself. “I had another talk with Dad last night after you went to bed. By that time he’d been able to get some resources into Nitro and start his own investigation. It looks like our plane was hit by a rocket-propelled grenade, which was fired from the shelter of a local hangar. Someone got a glimpse of the perpetrator and they’re looking for him now, although I doubt they’ll find him.”

“So they weren’t trying to kill us after all,” Irene said thoughtfully. “If that had been their goal they could have shot us down while we were still in the air. We were an easy target. By the way, any word on where that newspaper article came from?”

“Dad talked to the editor, but he won’t divulge his sources,” Tom replied. “And he won’t print a retraction. Dad thinks that we have a spy at Enterprises that fed the article to the editor, who was all-too-willing to report it. The villain then used it to incite a mob, and used the mob as cover to destroy our plane.”

“But why bother?” Irene asked. “I don’t see what anyone would gain from this. I mean, sure, we got some bad press, but that’s hardly going to destroy the company or stop the Institute from being built. And the loss of one jet isn’t going to cause us irreparable financial harm.”

“Beats me!” Tom joked. “Maybe he just doesn’t like that model of aircraft.”

Tom and Irene began walking down the dusty road. All along the road were tall cranes, enormous earthmovers, and piles of material. Construction workers swarmed everywhere, mostly ignoring the two teenagers. It looks like they’re focusing more on the airfield today, Tom thought to himself. With that many people they’ll make short work of it.

Chow had risen much earlier than Tom and promised to have breakfast ready for them before he headed off to the ranch. In the distance they could see a thin trail of smoke rising into the sky, and guessed that Chow had made good on his word.

Tom spoke up. “I still think Xanthus is behind this, but right now it’s too soon to tell. If it is him, maybe he just wanted us to know that he’s still out there and can take us out whenever he wants. This could be his way of saying that he has the upper hand.”

“Very comforting,” Irene said dryly. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Tom shrugged. “I don’t really know. My only idea is to finish work on that alarm system we were talking about earlier. I bet I could get it working by the time the Institute opens, and we can test it out here.”

“Wonderful!” Irene said sarcastically. “I’m sure that alarm system would have kept that Brungarian spy from destroying my luggage. That will definitely solve the problem.”

“My, but aren’t we cheerful this morning,” Tom remarked, grinning.

“Do you realize that the construction here is going on around the clock?” Irene said. “How on earth can anybody get any sleep? If someone’s not coming in to the dorm then someone’s going out. And I won’t even get started on all the awful noises I heard. They were dynamiting at three in the morning!” Irene gritted her teeth. “The next time you want to visit a construction site, Tom, you can find someone else to go with you. This is not a place for a lady.”

Tom laughed. “Tell you what, Ace. Before we do something like this again I’ll invent a machine that cancels out all noise. That way you can put it by your bed and sleep in peace.”

“You do that,” Irene replied.

By that time they had reached the small campfire that Chow had started. The middle-aged cook had somehow found a grill and was hard at work, cheerfully frying up sausages. “Well brand my dinner bell, but if it ain’t the two daredevils! Y’all are jes’ in time for breakfast.”

“Mmmm, it smells wonderful,” Irene said. “What do we have?”

“Oh, not much – only ’bout everything you could want,” Chow bragged. Tom quickly realized that the cook was right. On the picnic table in front of them were sausages, bacon, biscuits, gravy, eggs, and an array of fruit. There was enough food to feed far more than just the three of them.

“Wow!” Tom exclaimed. “You’ve really gone all-out. Where did you ever get all this food?”

“The supplies came from yer local mess hall,” Chow explained. “The cook there ‘taint of no account, but I figured I could just help myself and show ’em how cooking is really done. Don’t be shy, now – help yerself!”

Tom and Irene took a seat and began enjoying breakfast. “This is really good,” Irene remarked. “Thanks!”

“But where are the rattlesnakes?” Tom asked, as he helped himself to some more bacon.

“C’mon, son,” Chow said. “You don’t have rattlesnake stew for breakfast! ‘Tain’t right.”

“What a relief,” Irene sighed. She kicked Tom under the table.

Tom grinned. “Really, though, Chow, this is marvelous. You should come work for us! The Institute should open April 1st. We’d be delighted to have you.”

“That’s awful kind of you,” Chow replied. “Still, I promised the boys over at the X Bar X ranch that I’d work there a spell, and I reckon I will. But look me up when you get back in town.”

“We’ll do that,” Tom promised.

After breakfast, Captain Thorndyke came and picked up Chow to take him to the ranch. Tom and Irene bid him farewell, and the two then began walking through the construction yard.

“So what are all these buildings around us?” Irene asked, as she watched a large crane move a giant steel beam into place. “I don’t remember seeing this part of the base yesterday.”

“Let me check,” Tom said. He pulled a map out of his pocket and consulted it. “The guard tower is behind us, so those buildings must be the warehouses. That’s where our experimental aircraft are going to be built.”

“Your hyperplane?” Irene asked.

“Exactly!” Tom replied. “And eventually other atomic-powered craft as well. When the buildings are finished they’ll be equipped with everything we need to fabricate our own aircraft right here at the plant. It’ll be state-of-the-art.”

“Nice!” Irene commented. “Where’s the runway?”

“It’ll be north of here,” Tom replied. “I don’t think it’s been built yet.”

Irene looked over Tom’s shoulder and studied the map. “Looks like the runway will be pretty long.”

“One of the longest in the world!” Tom replied. “If we ever build a space plane one day we’ll be able to land it here. At least, that’s the plan.”

The two continued walking down the unfinished road that led away from the main gate. To their immediate right were the enormous warehouses that Tom had just mentioned. About a quarter mile head of them loomed another giant building.

“The reactor?” Irene asked, as they stepped aside to get out of the way of an oncoming forklift.

“Exactly,” Tom replied. “It’ll house the new unit that Dad’s been designing.”

“It looks pretty big!”

“It’s actually only quarter scale. There was no need for anything bigger than that.”

“That’s still an awful lot of power,” Irene remarked.

“I’m sure Dad will find a good use for it.”

“Why aren’t there any cooling towers?”

“They’re not necessary,” Tom said. “Dad’s reactor doesn’t depend on superheated water becoming steam and then driving a turbine. He’s going to use tomasite to convert radiation directly to electricity.”

“Oh, that’s right. I should have remembered that. But isn’t that process terribly inefficient?”

Tom shrugged. “Dad seems to think he can achieve a pretty decent efficiency. I don’t know, though. The Tomasite approach really seems more geared toward small reactors, like something that could power your car. But I think Dad wants to start with something that could power a city and then work his way down.”

“Or maybe he’ll leave that as an exercise for you,” Irene teased.

“Or to you,” Tom shot back. “After all, you’re the nuclear physics expert! I’m just the guy with a notebook and pencil.”

“A pencil which, by the way, you never did finish transforming for me,” Irene pointed out. “I know my red pencil when I see it.”

“Give me time!” Tom pleaded. “These great breakthroughs don’t happen overnight. I’m still thinking about it.”

“Promise?” Irene said, looking him in the eye.

“I promise,” Tom replied, grinning.

* * * * *

That afternoon the two young scientists made their way toward the research section of the Institute.

“The grounds of this facility are much larger than I’d expected,” Irene remarked. “This isn’t bigger than Swift Enterprises, is it?”

“It’s several square miles,” Tom replied. “It’s actually a bit smaller, but it seems larger because there aren’t many buildings here yet. Of course, even when the Phase I construction is finished we’ll still be using only a fraction of the space. It’ll be quite a few years before we run out of land.”

The two stopped in front of a long, low building. At the moment it was simply a concrete slab with steel girders for walls. Boards, cinderblocks, and pipes were stacked high on the slab.

Irene stepped onto the concrete and looked around. “So this entire building is your office?”

Tom laughed. “Not exactly. Ned would never go for that! No, I’ll get this end of the building, and other people will get the rest of it. I think Dad’s laboratory is going to be across the street, in that building. Still, I should have plenty of space to run my experiments.”

“So you’re going to build a real nuclear reactor right here in this room?”

Tom nodded. “That’s the plan! Of course, the room won’t be a concrete slab then – we’ll have all the equipment we need. And my test unit will be pretty small. The bigger ones will have to be tested elsewhere. But this is where it will all begin.”

Irene walked over and sat down on a pile of lumber. “So what’s the plan, skipper?”

Tom sat down beside her. “Well, come April I’m going to move down here for the summer. I’ll start out by building a series of small reactors, to see if I can generate thrust from nuclear power. If I can I’ll start searching for a way to crack the heat transfer problem. If all that works and the numbers say that we’ve got enough thrust to make hypersonic travel a reality then I’ll start building planes and try it for real.”

Irene nodded. “That sounds like a good plan. I like it.”

“Oh, and I would like for you to be here,” Tom said quickly. “I mean, I realize we’re out in the middle of the desert and there are no classy resorts in sight, but we’ll only be out here until this project is done. Besides, you’ll be closer to your parents – they’re just one state over instead of all the way across the country.”

“You don’t have to sell me on the idea, Tom. I’d be more than happy to come. After all,” she said teasingly, “I’d rather not be thousands of miles away from you. You never know when some other pretty girl might catch your eye! If I’m not there to shoot her then there’s no telling what might happen. You could end up married to a blond, or something!”

“Thanks,” Tom said warmly. “I’m glad your acting to save me from such a terrible fate!”

“So tell me, skipper. What would you have done if I had refused to move to the desert?”

“Well, kidnapping you had crossed my mind,” Tom replied, grinning.

Irene laughed. “You’re so sweet. Is there anything else on your mind that you’d like to talk about?”

“Um, I think I’m good for now,” Tom replied.

“Are you sure?” Irene asked.

Tom looked at her and smiled. “Trust me, Ace.”

“Ok,” she said simply.

* * * * *

Two days later Tom and Irene left Institute and flew back to Shopton, New York. This time they joined a small group of construction foremen that were returning home for Christmas. The two young scientists enjoyed being passengers for a change, and spent the flight talking with the men about their work at the Institute and their plans for the holidays.

At six in the evening the plane landed at the Swift Enterprises airfield. After thanking the pilot for the pleasant flight Tom said goodbye to Irene. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Aren’t you going to drive me home?” Irene asked.

Tom shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ace, but I can’t. Dad wanted to see me the moment I got back and actually stayed late so we could talk. I’d volunteer to take you home after the meeting is over but I don’t know how long I’ll be. You can borrow my car, though, if you want.”

“That’s ok, my car is still here,” Irene said. “How do you think I got here in the first place?”

Tom looked puzzled. “Then why did you want me to drive you home?”

Irene smiled mischievously. “I’ll let you figure that out on your own, skipper.”

“Ok,” Tom said uncertainly. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Irene shook her head. “Sorry, Tom, but I’m on vacation until after the New Year. You are too, in fact. Along with a lot of other people. It is the holiday season, you know.”

“Oh,” Tom said. “Right! I guess I am.”

“It’ll be good for you!” Irene said. “You can finally get all that Christmas shopping done. Think of the possibilities!”

Tom whistled. “I had better get on that! It kind of slipped my mind.”

Irene sighed. “I’m not surprised. Anyway, give me a call sometime. You do know where I live, after all.” She kissed him goodbye and then walked off.

Tom shook his head and walked over to his father’s office. The executive floor of the office building was deserted. Miss Trent probably left an hour ago, Tom thought. His father, however, was still in the office.

“Come on in!” his dad said, calling to him from the chair behind his desk. Tom walked into the suite and closed the door behind him.

“They did a nice job repairing this place,” he commented.

His father smiled. “Miss Trent is very efficient. I imagine it’s a nice change for you to step in here without feeling that your life is in danger!” He reached out and shook his son’s hand. “It’s good to have you home, son. So how was your trip?”

Tom told his father everything that happened in Arizona, starting with the flight there and ending with the flight back. “I know you’ve already heard most of this before,” he said, apologizing.

“I’m going to have to meet this Charles Winkler,” his dad said thoughtfully. “He sounds like a remarkable character.”

“I think he’d make a great employee,” Tom said enthusiastically. “When we were in trouble he just helped us out then and there without asking any questions. He’s dependable, and I bet he’s loyal too.”

“That’s a valuable quality to have. I’ll have security check him out. I’m afraid we’re having to check everyone out these days,” Tom’s father said apologetically. “Harlan is having a terrible time trying to find the leak. I’d like to think that we can trust everyone who works here, but time and again events have proven me wrong.”

“I may be able to help a little in that department,” Tom said. He told his father about his plans for an alarm system. “If I can get it to work I’d like to implement it at the Institute.”

“That would be wonderful! By all means, if you can get that to work then it could change everything. It won’t solve all our problems, of course, but it would make it very much harder for intruders to enter without our knowledge.”

“Are you still planning on opening the Institute on April 1?” Tom asked.

His father nodded. “So far the foreman assures me that everything is proceeding according to schedule. Even if some things do fall behind, though, I am sure we can at least open the laboratories. The entire plant does not need to be finished in order for the facility to become useful. Speaking of plans, however, how are you going to approach the hyperplane construction?”

Tom explained to his father the plan that he had discussed with Irene. When he was finished his father nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that you’ve thought this through, son. Please let me know if there is any way I can provide assistance. I truly believe that your aircraft will be a monumental step, not only for Swift Enterprises but for mankind as a whole.”

“I hope so, Dad,” Tom replied.

His father stood up. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss before we head home? I’m sure you’re getting hungry.”

“Well, there is one other thing,” Tom said. He paused for a moment. “It’s about Irene.”

Tom Sr. looked surprised. “Irene? Is she ok?”

“Oh, sure, it’s not that. It’s just that – ” Tom hesitated. “Dad, I’m pretty sure that she wants me to marry her.”

Tom Sr. burst out laughing and sat back down behind his desk. “Son, are you telling me that you have just now figured this out? After all these years?”

“You mean you knew all along?”

His father smiled. “I had this conversation with her father many years ago. Irene attached herself to you at a young age. She’s a very determined girl! She knew exactly what she wanted, and she’s never wavered in her pursuit of it.”

“And you never told me?”

“Some things are best left to be discovered on your own. But if I could ask, what tipped you off?”

Tom shrugged. “All my life I just never thought of her as anything other than my friend. But lately her behavior has changed, and I’ve started noticing things. I probably would have noticed sooner but it just never crossed my mind.”

“The two of you are growing into fine adults,” his father said. “Some things change with age. I thought it was about time for something to happen.”

“So you’ve even talked to her dad about this,” Tom said slowly. “You mean I really am the last person to know?”

“Men usually are,” his father remarked. “I chased your mother for years before I found out that she was actually the one that had been chasing me. How she managed to put up with me long enough for us to get married I don’t know.”

“Mom loved you,” Tom said simply. “She still does. And I believe that Irene loves me. I can see it in how she lives her life.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Tom Sr. said. “She is an extraordinary person. But the question is, do you love her? You need to be honest here, son. This isn’t a game where you can just pretend to love her, or tell her what she wants to hear because you know she wants to hear it. She’s being honest with you, and you need to be just as honest with her. If you’re not she will know.”

“I do love her,” Tom said. “She means the world to me. I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else. I’m just not very good at telling her.”

“I don’t tell your mother nearly often enough,” Tom Sr. replied. “So what is your plan?”

“What do you think I should do?” Tom asked. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Tom Sr. said nothing for a few moments. He just looked at his son thoughtfully. “Are you sure you want my opinion?” he said at last.

“Of course,” Tom replied.

“I think that you and Irene would make a great couple,” his father said slowly. “I honestly do. But you’re both still very young, and you’re in the middle of a very large and complicated project that has international repercussions. Time is on your side. I would suggest pursuing the relationship, but not starting anything serious until after you’ve finished the hyperplane. When that succeeds your life will be a lot less stressful, and you can focus entirely on building your relationship with Irene. This isn’t something you want to do half-heartedly.”

“So you think the hyperplane will be a success?” Tom asked.

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “Keep in mind I didn’t say it would be an overnight success. You may try, and fail, and try, and fail again. But don’t ever give up. If you keep at it I have no doubt that you will ultimately succeed.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Tom said warmly. “That sounds like a wise plan. I just have one more question.”

“What is it?”

“Who should my best man be?”

Tom’s father burst out laughing. “That is a good question! I don’t think I can help you there, son. This time you’re on your own!”

“My luggage!” Irene screamed. She stared at their plane in horror as it became a raging inferno. Thick black smoke bellowed from the aircraft and began rising high in the desert sky.

“Run faster!” Tom shouted. The explosion had startled the crowd, and when they saw the plane burst into flames they began to scatter. Tom quickly looked around for a way of escape and spotted a small vehicle up ahead.

“That way!” he said, grabbing Irene and pulling the short girl away from the plane. The two began running with all their might toward the jeep Tom had spotted, desperately hoping to reach it before the mob regained their senses and came after them. The jeep was parked beside a small propeller-driven aircraft that had landed just before Tom’s jet. The pilot had already disembarked and was busy carrying the passenger’s copious amount of luggage to the back of the vehicle.

What really caught Tom’s eye was the plane’s passenger. A rather large, sun-bronzed man stepped off the plane right after the pilot. The balding individual was wearing an incredibly bright red-and-yellow outfit that was covered in sequins. It was one of the gaudiest pieces of clothing Tom had ever seen, and yet the man was wearing it with all the pride of someone who had just purchased a thousand-dollar suit.

The explosion startled the two men, and they ran to the jeep. The plane’s passenger beat the pilot and jumped into the driver’s seat, forcing the pilot to the seat beside him. Just as they were about to leave Tom and Irene reached the vehicle and leaped into the back seat.

“Let’s get out of here!” Tom shouted.

The brightly-dressed man nodded his head and floored it. With tires squealing he whipped the jeep around and plowed out into the desert, away from the mob and the airport itself. When he had a moment to catch his breath he spoke up. “Brand my pitchforks, but that’s some mob behind us! What in tarnation is going on?”

“I wish I knew,” Tom said, as he watched his jet burn to the ground. “We’d just gotten off the plane when they showed up.”

“I can’t believe they destroyed my luggage,” Irene said angrily. “Who do those rats think they are?”

The driver shouted over the roar of the jeep as he drove it at high speeds across the uneven ground. “I reckon we oughta run now and ask questions later. Pleasure to meet y’all! Name’s Charles Winkler, though my friends call me Chow.”

“And I’m Captain Thorndyke,” the other passenger said. “We’d just flown in from Texas.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Tom said. “My name is Tom Swift, and this is my friend Irene Goddard.”

“Ya don’t say,” Chow replied. He swerved to miss a ditch, and plowed over a bump that rattled Tom’s teeth. “Hey, you ain’t kin to the famous Tom Swift, are ya? I’ve heard he’s real bright.”

Tom bit his lip, and Irene tried to suppress a smile. “Yes, Tom Swift is his father. We just flew in from Swift Enterprises. Nitro gave us a bit more of a reception than what we’re used to. Believe me, I would so love to return the favor.”

By now the jeep had left the airport behind them and had found its way to a major main road. Tom glanced at the speedometer and saw that they were going in excess of 90 miles an hour.

“Is it legal to drive that fast?” Tom asked.

Chow shrugged. “I don’t know ’bout you, son, but when fellers start tossin’ grenades and such at me I figure it’s time to get gettin’. Speed limits ain’t intended for war zones.”

“That was a grenade?” Tom asked. “Are you sure?”

Irene sighed and slumped down into her seat. “It doesn’t really matter, Tom. We can find out what it was after the mob leaves. I’m sure your dad will have the authorities come out and investigate, and they’ll tell us what happened. But our luggage is gone forever.”

“It sounds like y’all need a hand,” Chow said. “I don’t hafta be at the ranch until tomorrow. What say I drive you into town and we rustle up some supplies?”

“That may not be a good idea right now,” Tom warned. “I’d like to know why the townspeople tried to kill us before we start strolling down main street. For all I know they might try it again. They seemed to think we were one of the harbingers of the apocalypse.”

Captain Thorndyke spoke up. “I find it hard to believe that the average man on the street would have access to grenades. I don’t mean to pry, but you don’t have any enemies, do you?”

Tom smiled wryly. “The Swifts have always had enemies, Captain, large and small. It comes with the territory.”

“We need to call your dad and let him know what happened,” Irene said. “Maybe we can do that at the safety of the Institute. It’s pretty well-guarded.”

“If you don’t mind, where were you headed?” the captain asked.

“Swift Enterprises is building a research facility about fifteen miles outside of town,” Tom said. “That was our intended destination.”

“Then let’s do this,” the captain replied. “What if Chow drives us to the research facility and drops us off? He can stay and make lunch for you while I drive into town, pick up some supplies, and see what’s going on. Do you think you’ll be able to contact your dad from there?”

“We should be able to,” Irene said.

“I am getting kind of hungry,” Tom replied.

“Then yer in fer a real treat,” Chow said. “Cookin’ jes happens to be my specialty, and I’ve got everything I need right here with me to rustle up somethin’ tasty. Kin you steer me toward this place o’ yers?”

“Absolutely,” Tom said, smiling. “And thanks so much for your help.”

* * * * *

An hour later Tom, Irene, and Chow were at Institute. The captain had just dropped them off and took the jeep back into town, promising to be back with clothing and other supplies later that afternoon.

“This here’s some place you got, Tom!” Chow said. “Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it.”

Tom smiled. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but crumbling rocks in a vast, empty desert. In the distance were some pink cliffs, but there were absolutely no signs of civilization at all. The compound was walled off from the rest of the world by a large, barbed-wire fence, and guards constantly paroled the perimeter. Inside the grounds were scaffolds, construction materials, large earth-moving machines, and the skeletons of enormous buildings. Even two weeks before Christmas the construction site was still bustling with activity.

“We’re building our newest research laboratory here,” Tom explained to Chow. “This is where we’re going to split atoms.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Chow said, as he began unpacking his cooking utensils. “I’ll handle the cookin’ and I’ll let you handle the atom-smashin’.”

“Where are you going to cook?” Irene asked.

“Right here, o’course,” Chow replied. “Where’d you think?”

Irene looked around. “But we’re not near a kitchen, Chow. I don’t even know if there’s a functional kitchen anywhere on the premises.”

“That ain’t no problem, miss. I’m a range cook. All I need’s a fire and my pans. There ain’t much in the way of kitchens out in the open prairies of Texas.”

“I guess not,” Irene replied. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thanks, but I can handle it, ma’am,” the cook replied. Then he got a thoughtful look in his eye. “Although let me know if ya see any rattlers in the area. I cook a real mean rattlesnake soup.”

Irene gasped, and Tom burst out laughing. “Sure thing, Chow.”

“He’s serious,” Irene whispered. “Are you nuts?”

“C’mon, Ace. Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“I left it at home in the glove compartment box of my car,” Irene said tartly. “There is no way I am going to eat a rattlesnake. Period.”

Tom shook his head mockingly. “What a pity.” He then spoke up so Chow could hear him. “Say, Chow, the residential quarters are over there. Irene and I are going to head in that direction to see if we can call Dad and give him a quick update. We’ll be back shortly.”

“Don’t you worry none,” Chow said, as the two began jogging toward the building. “I’ve got it all under control. When y’all get back I’ll have the best vegetable soup ready you’ve ever tasted.”

Thirty minutes later Tom and Irene started walking back to Chow. The residential facility did not have any telephone lines, but it did have a radio and Tom was able to get in touch with George Dilling, the chief radio operator at Swift Enterprises. He quickly tracked down Tom’s father and the two had a brief conversation.

“Dad took that pretty well, considering,” Tom remarked.

“He’s just glad we’re alive,” Irene said. “No one thought that coming down here might be dangerous.”

Tom nodded. “I do think he’s right about one thing, though. It’s just too risky to fly into the Nitro airport anymore. Until we know what’s going on we shouldn’t take any chances.”

“I agree, but that won’t really help you and me, though,” Irene remarked. “I mean, I know your dad’s putting every available man on the job, but there’s no way he can build a world-class airport out in the middle of the desert in just a couple of days.”

“Not necessarily,” Tom said slowly. “You really don’t need all that much to get a plane in the air. I think he can put together a rudimentary airstrip pretty fast. I just feel bad about losing that jet. That was a nice plane.”

“By the way, I didn’t realize George still worked at the plant. For some reason I thought he’d been transferred to that island.”

“Oh, you mean Fearing?” Tom asked. “No, not yet. Dad wanted to finish the Institute before starting construction on the new rocket base. We’re still a few years away from building spacecraft.”

“But that day will come,” Irene said. Her eyes sparkled. “Space travel! Can you imagine? Who knows what we’ll find out there?”

Tom grinned. “As long as we don’t encounter any rattlesnake soup you should be fine.”

Irene glared at him.

Chow had lunch ready shortly after they got back. After assuring both of them that it did not contain any unusual meats the two dived in.

“This is delicious!” Irene said. “But where did you get the food to fix it?”

“It’s always best to be prepared, ma’am,” Chow remarked. “I’ve seen an awful lot happen, ‘specially when you’re dealing with the desert. Texas ain’t always a forgiving place.”

When lunch had been cleaned up the three of them spent some time touring the grounds. Chow told them stories of his days as a chuck-wagon cook in the wide-open spaces of Texas, and as the day wore on they slowly forgot the traumatic events of the day and returned to their usual selves.

That evening Thorndyke returned in the jeep. “I got all the supplies you mentioned,” he said, as the group unloaded the jeep and carried the supplies into the Institute’s dormitories.

“Thanks,” Irene said warmly. She elbowed Tom gently. “Tom here will be more than happy to repay you.”

“Oh, right,” Tom said, getting out his wallet.

As she went through the bags to see what Thorndyke had forgotten to purchase Tom spoke up. “Did you find out what was going on?”

“I’m afraid so,” the captain said grimly, handing Tom a newspaper. He glanced at the headline and gasped.

“NUCLEAR FALLOUT IMMINENT!” he read aloud. “This afternoon Tom Swift Jr., the sixteen-year-old son of Tom Swift, is scheduled to begin testing his own nuclear-powered aircraft. Experts warn that the experimental reactor could easily become critical and explode, showing our fair city with nuclear fallout.” Tom gritted his teeth in anger. “That’s completely wrong!”

“I know,” Irene said. “You’re actually seventeen. They missed your birthday.”

Tom ignored Irene and continued to read the rest of the article silently. When he was done he gave the paper to her. “This is terrible! No wonder we were met by an angry mob.”

“Is there any truth at all in the article?” Thorndyke asked.

“There’s very little,” Tom said. “It’s true that I am looking at ways to apply nuclear power to aircraft, although how they knew that I don’t know. That’s one of our most top-secret projects. But we are months away from even beginning the construction of a test aircraft, much less actually fly it. The only reason we came out today was to look at the construction site, and that was supposed to be a secret too.”

“Apparently y’all got a leak,” Chow commented. “Looks like yer secrets are front-page news down in this-here town.”

“So it would seem,” Tom replied sourly. “But look, captain. I don’t know who this ‘expert’ is, but the idea of the reactor exploding like a nuclear bomb is completely ridiculous. I won’t go into all the details, but even in a worst-case scenario the type of fuel used in a commercial nuclear reactor isn’t nearly enriched enough to explode. The worst that could happen is it could melt down and release radioactive material, which is a very far cry from turning Nitro into a crater. But even that should be impossible thanks to our Tomasite shielding.”

“I didn’t catch hide nor hair of that, Tom,” Chow said apologetically. “Ya gotta make it real simple.”

“I can handle that,” Irene said, as she finished reading the article and handed it back to the captain. “The article is a pack of lies that got my entire summer wardrobe burned to ashes. I intend to find whoever wrote it and hang him from the nearest tree.”

“We’re in a desert,” Tom pointed out. “There aren’t any trees.”

“I’ll think of something,” Irene said threateningly.

“Now that I understand,” Chow said. “But how’re ya gonna find out who’s responsible?”

“She’s not,” Tom said. “I’ll call Dad and let him know what we found out, and he will let the legal arm of Swift Enterprises handle it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Irene said. “This doesn’t call for lawyers, Tom. It calls for a direct and overwhelming response.”

Tom sighed. “Look, Ace, I know you’re upset. But we both know that Xanthus is behind this. I’m sure we haven’t heard the last of him, and I’m also sure that there’s nothing I can do about it. I’d really rather just get back to work.”

“Who?” Chow asked.

“An old friend of the family, apparently,” Tom said off-handedly.

“Tom,” Irene said, “I know I’m upset. But someone tried to kill us today. If I were you I wouldn’t let other people handle it. In my book, attempted murder is significant enough to warrant a little personal attention. If Xanthus isn’t stopped he will keep coming back, and each time he does the stakes will get higher and the destruction will become greater. Today he told us that he’s playing for keeps.”

“I know,” Tom said, sighing. “But look, Ace, Dad has dealt with things like this many, many, many times. He can handle it. It’s what he does.”

“Maybe so,” Irene said. “But remember this, skipper: death is forever. Once you die you can’t come back.”

It was a cold, overcast morning two weeks before Christmas. Winter had finally come to Shopton, and several inches of snow covered the Swift Enterprise grounds. Tom Swift Jr. was seated on a bench outside his laboratory, staring off into the distance and doing nothing in particular. A chilly wind ruffled Tom’s short blond hair, but he did not notice. As usual, his mind was far away.

His train of thought was interrupted when a short red-haired girl stood in front of him and playfully waved a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Swift, Earth to Swift. Come in, Swift! Do we have contact?”

Tom looked at Irene and smiled. “Hey there, Ace. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. “The meeting with Hank took much longer than I thought.”

“Oh, that’s right – you were going over the plans for the new tomasite plant, weren’t you?”

Irene nodded as she sat down on the bench beside Tom. “Ned wanted to have one last meeting before he put things in motion, but it’s looking pretty good. The manufacturing problems have been licked, the plans for the factory have been drawn up, and construction is supposed to begin next week.”

“Where’s the plant being built?”

“In California. Our main concern right now is that the plant won’t be able to produce enough tomasite to meet the demand. Ned told us he already has a huge backlog of orders! The press coverage we’ve been getting couldn’t be more positive.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Tom replied. “Dad has been working on that project for a long time. There were some rough moments, but he never gave up. Seeing it become a reality has got to be enormously gratifying. I’m really proud of him.”

“So now that we’ve cleared up what I’ve been doing for the past three hours, the next question is what have you been doing? Please tell me you haven’t been sitting here since 7 this morning.”

“I’m afraid so,” Tom said wryly. “I’m just bored. The wait is killing me.”

“But surely there’s all kinds of things you could be working on! Do you really mean to tell me that you’re out of ideas?”

Tom leaned back against the bench and looked at Irene. “I’ve done all the design work I can on the hyperplane. There’s just nothing else I can do until I can start building the reactor and running actual tests. None of that can happen until the new facility is built, and it won’t be open until at least March.”

“But what about the alarm system you were working on? Wouldn’t this be the perfect chance to start work on it?”

“Probably. But my heart’s just not in it. I mean, I’ve spent all this time working on my plane, and now there’s nothing I can do but sit and wait for four months. I’m going to go crazy!”

Irene thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose your dad would let you start building the reactor here, would he?”

Tom shook his head. “I already asked. It seems that the mayor doesn’t want us performing experimental nuclear work so close to town. Dad said I’m just going to have to find something else to do.”

“Then we’re going to have to find a new project for you,” Irene said firmly. She was silent for a few minutes, and then she got to her feet. “I think you need a challenge! Wait here – I’ll be right back.”

Tom watched Irene walk down the sidewalk and into the building that housed his laboratory. About five minutes later she emerged with a look of triumph.

Irene walked up to Tom and stretched out her hand. “This is just what you need! It’ll clear the cobwebs out of that brain of yours.”

Tom looked down at her hand and frowned. In her hand Irene was holding three pencils – a red one, a green one, and a blue one. “I need pencils?” he asked.

“No, silly,” she said, as Tom took them from her. “I want you to transform these ordinary household items into something magical and mysterious. Turn these into ultramodern Swift pencils!”

Tom scratched his head. “They’re pencils, Ace. What can you possibly do to a pencil?”

“Think of something,” Irene ordered. She stood up and stretched. “I hate to go, skipper, but I’ve got some Christmas shopping to attend to. I’ll be back sometime this afternoon to see how you’re progressing on your latest invention. Sound good?”

Tom shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

* * * * *

Late that afternoon Irene burst into Tom’s laboratory. “How’s it going?” she asked eagerly.

Tom was seated on a stool by his workbench, bent over a sheaf of papers. When he heard her voice he turned around, startled. “You’re back already?”

Irene shook her head as she hung up her coat by the door and walked over to join Tom at the workbench. “What do you mean, already? It’s been six hours! So what have you done with my pencils?”

As the girl picked them up off the workbench Tom looked at her and sighed. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be impressed,” he said at last.

Irene studied them, puzzled. She grabbed a spare sheet of paper and made a quick sketch, and then looked back at Tom. “I see that it still writes.”

“Yup.”

“Does it do anything else?”

Tom shook his head. “Not yet. See, first I measured the pencil to get an idea of its volume, and then I borrowed a sample of Dad’s modified tomasite to see how well very small quantities of it it converts heat into electricity. From what I can tell it is completely impossible to put a miniaturized nuclear reactor inside a pencil.”

Irene gasped, and dropped the pencil onto the workbench. “I would hope so, Tom! Why on earth would you ever want to do such a thing?”

Tom shrugged. “I was hoping the pencil could be converted into a portable power source, but it won’t work.”

“They make watch batteries, you know, ” Irene said. “If you want to put a gizmo inside the pencil then couldn’t you just use one of them?”

Tom nodded. “Probably, as long as the gizmo didn’t need very much power. You couldn’t use a watch battery to operate a soldering iron, for instance. But then I got to looking at these designs for the new research institute and, well, I’m afraid I got distracted. I really wish I hadn’t missed the grand tour that Dad gave to the company executives. I definitely blew that one.”

“Now there’s a good idea!” Irene said. “Why not make a trip down there and take a look around? There’s no reason why you can’t go by yourself, you know. It might get your mind out of this slump.”

Tom snapped his fingers. “That’s a great idea!” he said excitedly. “The labs are nowhere near done but temporary residential quarters have been set up. I could just stay with the construction crew for a few days and start thinking about how we can use the facility. That would be terrific.”

“Great!” Irene said, getting off the stool. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get back. Be sure to take lots of pictures, skipper.”

Tom looked at her, surprised. “What do you mean, tell you all about it? Aren’t you coming with me?”

Irene shook her head. She walked over to the door and grabbed her coat. “Christmas is only two weeks away, Tom, and I’ve got all kinds of things to do between now and then. I’m not at all prepared, and there are all kinds of parties and reunions and events between now and then. I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to leave town until after the holidays.”

“But Ace,” Tom said, and then stopped. “I know, you’re right,” he said. “This is a hectic time of year, and you’ve got your family to think about. I know you’ve missed your parents and want to spend time with them while they’re home for the winter. I’d do the same thing if I were you. But I would like you to come with me, if you can.”

“Why?” Irene asked, as she put on her coat. “I mean, come on, Tom. You’re going to visit a construction site, not battle an evil villain in the jungles of Central America. You won’t even be doing any inventing.”

“Because,” Tom said. He hesitated. “We’ve always done everything together, ever since we were kids. You practically grew up in my house. And this project – well, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It could be the biggest thing I’ll ever invent, and you’ve been with me through all of it. And when I go down to Arizona to plan out the next steps, well, I just want to do that with you.” He looked at her softly. “I know I’m being silly, and I know it’s just a construction site, but I just thought you’d always be there by my side.”

Irene stopped. She hung her coat back up, then walked back across the lab and sat down across from Tom. She looked at him and smiled, and then took his hand. “If you really want me to go Arizona with you then I will,” she said warmly. “And Tom, if you want me to always be there then just ask. I love you, you know. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Tom looked at Irene as if he had never seen her before. He could feel his face turning red, but he was unable to speak. “I know,” he said at last.

Irene smiled. “I’m sure you weren’t planning on having that discussion today, Tom, and that’s ok. But think about it. The future’s an unwritten page. It can be whatever you want it to be. Just give it some thought.”

Tom’s heart was pounding, and he still found it hard to speak. She has such amazing green eyes, he thought. How did I miss that?

“Tom?” Irene asked.

Tom snapped out of his reverie. “Um, yes?” he replied.

“So when are we leaving?”

Tom thought for a moment. “As soon as possible, I think. I definitely want to be back before Christmas Eve.”

“What about late tomorrow morning?” Irene asked. “That should give us just enough time to pack, plan the trip, and talk your dad into loaning us a nice, fast jet.”

“That should work fine,” he replied. “I can be ready by then.”

“And how long were you thinking of being gone?”

“Not too long,” Tom said. ” How about a week? I can’t imagine we’d need more time than that. And if we got done early we could always come home sooner.”

“Great,” she said. She glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry, but I really do have to leave. I promised Mom I’d be home in time to help her prepare dinner tonight, and I was just stopping by to see how my pencils were coming along before heading home. I’ll see you tomorrow though, ok?”

“I understand. I’ll call you with the flight arrangements,” Tom called out, as Irene went to the door a second time and put on her coat.

“Or you can just tell me in the morning,” Irene said.

Tom walked over to the lab door and opened it for her. “Ok,” he replied.

Irene smiled mischievously, and then kissed him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, skipper,” she said, and walked out of the building.

I think I was wrong about the hyperplane project, Tom thought to himself, as he watched Irene walk to her car. Actually, that conversation was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. You really blew it, Tom old boy, but at least she understood. Why is it so hard to talk to her? Then Tom smiled happily as he walked back into his laboratory. But she is amazing! I am so lucky to have a girl like her. What would I ever do without her?

* * * * *

Late the next morning Tom found himself helping Irene load her luggage onto a small private jet on the Swift Enterprises airfield. The aircraft was a small, experimental plane of a relatively new design, built to travel cross-country at just under the speed of sound. It could hold up to six people, but only Tom and Irene would be on board.

“What have you put into these bags?” Tom groaned, as he grabbed the sixth large suitcase and stuffed it into the baggage compartment.

“I’m not about to take any chances,” Irene replied. “Personally, I find it hard to believe that a construction site is going to have all the comforts of home. I’d rather bring more than I need than risk leaving something behind.”

“You mean you left something behind?” Tom teased, as the two loaded the last bags onto the jet.

After making sure that all of their luggage was on board the two teenagers boarded the plane. As Tom settled into the cockpit Irene gave him a warning look. “Oh no you don’t, skipper. I’m going to be the pilot today.”

“We both have licenses,” Tom pointed out. “I can handle it. In fact, I bet I’ve got far more flying time than you do.”

“But I called it first,” Irene replied. “Besides, I’ve already filed our flight plan and talked to the control tower. You can be the pilot on the way back, if you want, but I get the trip there.”

“Fine with me!” Tom said, settling back into his chair. “Take us up, Captain.”

Fifteen minutes later the plane was high in the air over upper New York State, heading toward Arizona. “It’s about 2400 miles from Shopton to Nitro,” Irene commented.

“At least this is a jet,” Tom replied. “It’ll take us what, five hours to get there?”

Irene nodded. “We should arrive around noon local time.”

“Nitro is a strange name for a town,” Tom commented.

“I asked your dad about it,” Irene said. “He told me there used to be a nitroglycerin plant there during World War II. There’s a good chance it’s still there.”

“I guess a nuclear research facility will be par for the course, then,” Tom said, grinning.

“I’m so glad your dad let us take one of his jets,” Irene replied. “I absolutely love flying these things! This particular model is so responsive and easy to fly. I wish we could have taken something that was supersonic, but he didn’t have anything available.”

“You’ve flown supersonic before?” Tom asked, surprised.

Irene grinned. “Your dad has always had a love for aircraft, you know. He’s got some of the most amazing flying machines that have ever been built. All you’ve got to is ask him for the keys! Personally, I can’t wait to try flying the hyperplane. That is going to be amazing.”

Tom shook his head. “There is no way dad would let either of us serve as the test pilot for our project. It’s going to be a while before either of us are allowed anywhere near the cockpit.”

“Sure, but it won’t be an experimental aircraft forever. We’ll get to fly it one day, skipper. And when we do – wow! That’ll be a day we’ll never forget.”

Time passed. For a while Tom amused himself by reading technical journals, but at last he threw them aside and stared out the cockpit window. After several minutes he spoke up. “Do you remember the first time I ever flew you somewhere?”

Irene smiled. “Of course! I was what – eleven? So you must have been ten. You had just finished your training and were so proud of yourself! You offered to fly us all out to California so we could be with Ned on the Fourth of July.”

Tom nodded. “I still can’t believe Dad let me do that. There were quite a few people on that old plane – you, me, my parents, and Mr. Damon. I think it was the last trip he made before he died.”

“He was quite a character,” Irene said. “Larger than life, really, and always up for another adventure. I don’t think he batted an eye at the thought of being flown across the country by a kid. Your mom, though – she was a bit nervous.”

Tom smiled. “On one of their early dates Dad took her up in a plane and ended up crashing it. I bet that sort of thing sticks with you. But Mr. Damon was always such an enthusiastic man. He was always blessing something.”

“Like when we finally landed in San Francisco,” Irene said. “Remember what he said? ‘Bless my propellers, but that was some good flying there, young man!’ I was so sad when he died.”

“He lived a good, long life,” Tom commented. “His heart finally gave out, but I’ll never forget him. Do you think we’ll ever have adventures like he did?”

Irene smiled. “You’re a Swift, you know. Adventure is in your blood! I don’t think you’re building the hyperplane so you can stay home and spend your life watching TV.”

Tom laughed. “You’ve got a good point there, Ace.”

* * * * *

Five hours later, the plane had finally reached the skies of Nitro. Irene contacted the control tower and made the final approach. The airport was a very small, rural station with only one runway, a small hangar, and an even smaller control tower. Tom counted six planes on the ground, none of which were jets. I bet at least half of those are from Swift Enterprises, he thought.

“Why aren’t we landing at our own airstrip?” Tom asked aloud, as he watched a plane on the ground roll to a stop. “I’m sure the new facility has got one.”

Irene nodded. “It does, but they’re not ready to receive traffic yet. For now everything is being routed through the local county airport. When we fly back down here in April, though, we’ll be able to go straight to the institute.”

“Institute,” Tom said thoughtfully. “I like that! It’s so much easier to say than ‘nuclear research facility’. That gets cumbersome real fast.”

“Then Institute it is!” Irene said brightly. After verifying that she had clearance she landed the plane, taxied it to its designed parking place, and brought it to a stop.

“Very nicely done,” Tom said approvingly. “And right on time too! I am getting really hungry.”

The two got out of the plane and stretched. “Man, but it’s warm here,” Tom commented. The grounds of the airport consisted of brown, parched dirt, stretching for miles in each direction. In the distance he could see a few low hills. Some rugged desert plants were clinging to life in the soil, but they were few and far between. A layer of dust covered everything in sight.

Irene laughed. “Were you expecting to find snow in the southern part of southern Arizona? You did pack summer clothing, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said vaguely. “Mom packed for me. I really have no idea what I brought.”

Irene shook her head. “Men are so helpless. How would you ever survive without us?”

Tom glanced around the airport, looking for some sign of life. “This place looks pretty deserted. Is someone going to come and get our bags?”

Irene nodded. “I asked the control tower to send a vehicle to come get us and our luggage. It’ll take us to town, where we can get a taxi and go out to the Institute.”

“You mean no one is coming from Institute to get us?” Tom asked.

“It’s two weeks before Christmas,” Irene pointed out. “There’s nobody out there but a skeleton construction crew, and I didn’t want to bother them. I figured we could handle it ourselves.”

“Makes sense,” Tom agreed. “But what are we going to do for lunch?”

Irene saw something behind Tom. Her eyes widened. “My guess is we’re going to be running for our lives!”

“What?” Tom said. He turned around and gasped. A large, angry mob was approaching their plane!

Irene turned to run, but Tom grabbed her. “Wait,” he said.

“Are you crazy?” she asked, tugging at his arm.

“I want to know why they’re here,” he said. “I can’t imagine it has anything to do with us. Aside from dad no one even knew we were coming! Let’s calm down and talk with them. Maybe we can diffuse this situation.”

“You’ve lost your mind!” Irene shouted.

By that point the mob had gotten within earshot, and Tom could hear what they were saying. The group was composed of at least a hundred people, some of which were carrying signs. Tom could see anger and fear on their faces.

“You’re going to destroy us all!” one man shouted.

“Get out of here!” the crowd chanted.

“We’ll all be irradiated!” a third man said.

“Wait,” Tom shouted. He walked toward the group hesitantly. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve come here to kill us!” one woman said. “Your flying nuclear experiments will level our cities!”

“They’ll ruin our livestock!” another man said.

“You’re a menace to society!” another voice called out.

A large rock soared through the air and narrowly missed Tom. As the mob got dangerously close Tom grabbed Irene’s hand and started running away. He could hear the mob’s angry shouts growing louder behind him.

“I told you!” Irene screamed.

Behind him there was a sudden explosion. The two were thrown off their feet onto the ground. As Tom looked behind him he saw that their plane had gone up in flames!

Tom Swift Jr. heard Harlan Ames shouting through the receiver he was holding, but Tom did not move. He kept his eyes fixed on the man standing in the doorway, who was coolly aiming one of his father’s antique electric rifles at him. The middle-aged intruder was wearing a very expensive black suit and tie, and had nicely-trimmed black hair and hazel-colored eyes. He looks exactly like someone who sits on a board of directors, Tom thought. I bet no one here even gave him a second look.

“May I?” the man said, gesturing for the phone. Tom noticed that he spoke with a slight Eastern European accent. The young scientist nodded and handed over the phone.

“With whom have I the pleasure of speaking?” the man said calmly, while keeping Tom under watch.

“This is Harlan Ames, head of security here at Swift Enterprises,” Harlan replied angrily. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“At the moment I am holding Tom Swift Jr. hostage,” he replied evenly. “I suggest you hold off any sudden moves until I’m quite finished with my work. I would dearly hate to have anything unfortunate befall this promising young man.” Before Harlan could respond the man hung up the phone and then gestured for Tom to enter his father’s office.

Tom stepped inside and the intruder closed the door behind him. He’s made a real mess of this place, Tom thought. His father’s desk had been completely torn apart, and the intruder had apparently started rifling through the filing cabinets when he had been disturbed. Tom spied an expensive custom briefcase sitting on the desk, stuffed with his father’s papers.

“Nice suit,” Tom said aloud. “Was that hand-made?”

The man walked around Tom and faced him. He studied him for a moment, and then smiled. “You have excellent taste, young man,” he said at last. “This was made by one of the finest tailors in all of Brungaria. It costs was – well, it’s sufficient to say that it cost me dearly. But it was truly a worthwhile investment.”

“Brungaria,” Tom echoed. “I think I’ve heard of that country.”

“Oh, you needn’t act so naive,” the agent replied. “I’m sure you immediately guessed my country of origin. It’s not like the Swift’s haven’t had dealings with the Brungarians before.”

“Actually, I don’t think we have,” Tom said thoughtfully. “At least, not that I know of.”

The agent smiled. “Then there is much your father has not told you! I have known him for almost twenty years. But allow me to introduce myself.” He reached inside his suit pocket and pulled out a white index card, which he handed to Tom.

“Xanthus Quintin,” Tom read aloud.

“Exactly,” the agent replied. “And you are Tom Swift Jr., son of the famous and highly-respected Tom Swift. It is truly a pleasure to meet you at last! I was wondering if I would get a chance to talk with you while I was in your charming little town.”

“You have a lot of nerve coming here!” Tom said. “Anyone could have walked in on you at any moment. How did you ever think you wouldn’t be discovered?”

“Ah, but that is not true!” Xanthus replied. “I have done my homework. Everyone who has access to this floor is in southern Arizona right now, touring the property that will one day become your nuclear research institute. That is, everyone except for you. I knew there was a chance that you might drop by, but if you did, so much the better!”

Tom gasped. “The meeting! You mean it was this weekend? Oh man. I promised Dad I’d be there, too. He’s going to be so upset.”

“Apparently your share your father’s lack of organizational skills,” the spy replied. “Perhaps Miss Trent can lend you her secretarial services. One she recovers, of course.”

The Brungarian agent walked over to his black leather briefcase and clipped it shut. “I think I have everything I need,” he said quietly. “I do apologize for disrupting this fine office, but I am sure your father can afford the repairs. He is, after all, one of the wealthiest men in the world! His inventions have been quite profitable.”

Is this guy insane? Tom wondered to himself. Why is he taking so much time to get out of here?

“Of course, your father can be quite selfish,” Xanthus continued. He tapped the briefcase and smiled. “There are secrets in here that the world would love to have. At times it may be necessary to, shall we say, liberate some knowledge.”

“I think that’s usually called stealing,” Tom corrected.

Xanthus shrugged. “Your father is not above doing what is necessary to accomplish his goals. I am simply – following in his footsteps, you might say. Justice is balance. What he did to me, I will do to him.”

“Besides,” Tom continued, “this is a commercial organization. Anything we produce gets sold on the open market.”

The Brungarian agent smiled. “I very much doubt your government would be willing to allow your father to sell us your nuclear hyperplane! Yes,” he continued, noticing Tom’s startled reaction, “we are well aware of your exciting new project. But even so, it is not true that your father commercializes everything. This electric rifle, for instance, he has kept to himself.” He looked at it fondly. “Few people in the world have ever seen one, and fewer still have ever used one. His greatest invention has been kept locked in his office.”

Tom smiled. “Not really. That’s just a model. You did notice that all the inventions in here were models, didn’t you?”

Xanthus paled and looked at the rifle he was holding in shock. At that moment Tom made a dive for him. When the agent saw Tom leap toward him he dropped the briefcase and pulled the trigger. A brilliant flash of blue light flew out of the barrel of the gun. The bolt went harmlessly through Tom and struck the far office wall, disintegrating it in a blinding flash.

I knew it! Tom thought triumphantly, as he collided with the spy and sent the gun flying through the air. He had no idea you have to set the target distance before firing the bolt.

The gun had blown apart the wall that separated that office from the one adjoining it, and through the smoke and the newly-created hole Tom could see Irene staring at him in shock. As Tom fought to subdue the spy the agent caught sight of the girl, who had abandoned her prisoner and was running toward them brandishing a crowbar. With a last desperate effort the spy broke free of Tom, leaped across the room and grabbed the rifle, and fired. To Tom’s horror the bolt struck Irene squarely in the chest, knocking her backwards and onto the ground. She did not get up.

“Irene!” Tom screamed. Momentarily distracted, he did not see the agent take the gun and slam it against Tom’s head. Instantly everything went black.

* * * * *

“What happened?” Tom asked groggily. As he opened his eyes and tried to sit up he saw that he was still lying on the floor of his father’s battered office. Doc Simpson was kneeling beside him, looking at him with great concern. Behind him was Harlan Ames.

“You got hit pretty hard, son,” the doctor replied. Doc Simpson had been the chief medical officer at Swift Enterprises since Tom was a young child. “You’ve been unconscious for about twenty minutes. I think it’s just a concussion, but I’ll have to x-ray you to make sure. We need to get you to the infirmary immediately.”

“Wait,” Tom replied. Fear clutched his heart. “What about Irene? Is she – ”

“I’m fine,” a voice said. Tom turned his head and saw Irene sitting in a chair. “Well, mostly fine. The bolt ruined my brand-new sweater, blast it. Do you think I can claim that as a business expense?”

An immense feeling of relief flooded over Tom. He smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Ace. I’ll buy you a new one. But what happened?”

Harlan Ames reached over and picked the gun off the floor. “This weapon hasn’t been used in years. In fact, I’m surprised there was enough energy stored in it to fire at all. As best we can tell most of its power was spent in the first discharge, and there was only enough left to knock Irene out for a few moments. Someone was looking after you, son.”

“This time,” Tom said soberly. “Things could have gone very differently.”

Harlan nodded. “When I tell your dad about this I’m going to suggest we replace this particular invention with a nonfunctional model. You took a big risk when you jumped him. Please don’t do something like that again.”

Tom touched his head and winced. “Man, my head hurts. I sure hope this doesn’t become a regular occurrence.”

“Then let’s get you down to the infirmary,” Doc said. “Your head is going to hurt until I can treat it.”

Tom nodded as the doctor helped him to his feet. His eye caught sight of a black leather briefcase lying open on the desk. “You mean he left it here?” Tom said in surprise.

“He sure did,” Harlan replied. “We were actually out there in the hallway when we heard the rifle go off, so we started running. The intruder took one look at us and ran through the hole he had just blasted in the wall. He beat us to the stairs and then disappeared.”

“You mean he got away?” Irene asked.

“He had inside help,” Harlan replied. “We had men stationed on the roof, and they got ambushed. The scoundrel got clean away, but his assistant didn’t! He’s on his way to the jail now, and may yield some valuable information. Tom, do you feel like telling us what happened?”

“Can it wait?” the doctor said.

“It’ll just take a second,” Tom replied. He gave Harlan a quick run-down on what the enemy agent had told him.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Harlan said at last. “Nuclear secrets are hot commodities, and I’m sure that the Brungarians would love to get their hands on what you and your dad have been working on. Now that they’ve tilted their hand, though, we can beef up security. We won’t let this happen again.”

“Brungaria,” Irene said sourly. “The sworn enemy of everything that is good and decent in this world. I should have known.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Tom said. “Xanthus went out of his way to identify himself. That’s not how spies operate. He wanted us to know why he was here, Harlan. In fact, I think that mattered to him more than the information in that briefcase. There’s more to this than it seems.”

“Do you need a stretcher?” Doc Simpson asked, interrupting.

“No, I think I can walk,” Tom replied. “But one minute. Irene, you did a great job handling the prisoner. Thanks for looking after him for me.”

“Thanks,” Irene said, smiling. She hefted the crowbar. “It’s easy to watch someone who’s unconscious.”

A look of horror crossed Tom’s face. “You didn’t,” he said.

“Of course not!” Irene replied. “You know I’m harmless. The problem is the prisoner figured that out too, so I chloroformed him. He had some in his jacket when I searched him – which, incidentally, is something you should have done when you tied him up.”

“He must have used it on Miss Trent,” Tom said thoughtfully. “And you’re right, I should have searched him. Sorry about that. Oh, say, how is Miss Trent?”

“She’s fine,” Irene said. “She went home ten minutes ago. Knowing her, I’m sure she’ll be back in the office on Monday!”

As Tom was led out of the office by Doc Simpson he took one last look around. “She’s got her work cut out for her, Ace. How long do you think it will take her to get Dad’s office repaired?”

* * * * *

A week later Tom Swift Jr. was sitting in his sleek red convertible outside the Goddard residence. He glanced at his watched, frowned, and began tapping the steering wheel impatiently. C’mon, Irene, we’re going to be late, he thought. It’s already ten ’till six! Where are you?

The weather had been unusually warm that November, so Tom had the car’s top down and was enjoying what would probably be the last warm day of the year. The sun was beginning to set and the streetlights that lined the sidewalk were attempting to come on. Tom idly sat in the driver’s seat and looked around the neighborhood. He noticed that a few children were playing softball in the field across the street.

To pass the time, the young inventor grabbed a small notepad and a pencil out of the glove compartment box and began jotting down some ideas. He was soon lost in thought.

Ten minutes later he heard a door open, and looked up to see Irene getting in the car. Irene was dressed in a long black evening gown, and was holding a stylish black purse. “Thanks for waiting,” she said, smiling sweetly as she took her seat.

Tom shook his head, put the notebook and pencil back in the glove compartment box, and started the car. “We were supposed to be there are six,” he grumbled. “Do you realize that the restaurant is clear on the other side of town?”

“They won’t start without the birthday boy,” Irene replied cheerfully. “Don’t worry! We’ll get there.”

“You do look nice,” Tom admitted. He pulled the car away from the house and began driving down the road.

“Why thank you, young man,” Irene replied. “I was hoping you’d notice. So what were you working on? Mind if I look?”

“Be my guest,” Tom replied. The girl opened the glove compartment box and began leafing through the notebook. “I was just putting together some ideas for my dad. I finally found out what he wanted to talk to me about.”

“An alarm system?” Irene asked, as she studied the drawings.

Tom nodded. “Yup. Dad asked me to build something that is truly burglar-proof, so I’ve been giving it some thought. I’m thinking that something that’s radar-based should work nicely.”

“You’re going to use radar to keep Brungarians away? How is that going to work?”

“It’s simple,” Tom replied, as he merged the car onto the main road. “The system would scan for all human beings inside the Enterprise compound. Authorized personnel, however, won’t be detected because they’ll be wearing an amulet that will keep them off the scope. Unauthorized intruders, though, won’t have an amulet and will immediately raise an alarm. The best part is that no matter how the intruder got inside he’ll still show up the moment he sets foot inside the plant!”

“Very nice,” Irene commented. She put the notebook back in the glove compartment box. “But what happens if you have a traitor inside the plant that hands out amulets to enemy agents? Or what if they steal an amulet from an employee?”

“We’d have to control the amulets pretty carefully,” Tom admitted. “And I suppose there could be a problem if someone lost them. But at least it’s better than what we’ve got now.”

“True,” Irene replied. “When do you think you’ll have a working version?”

Tom shrugged. “Right now I’m just sketching ideas, Ace. It’ll take some time to make a system that can pick up on humans and screen out everything else, to say nothing of building the magical amulet. I doubt I’ll actually have a test unit until after the hyperplane gets off the ground.”

“I’m sure the Brungarian spies will appreciate that!” Irene remarked. “After all, why not wait until after the sensitive nuclear project is done to beef up security?”

“My point exactly,” Tom joked. “After all, what could go wrong?”

* * * * *

Thirty minutes later, Tom pulled the car into the parking lot of Gulliver’s. He drove up to the door of the restaurant then stopped the car, got out, and walked around the car to open the door for Irene. After handing the key to the valet the two teenagers stepped inside.

“Ah, Mr. Swift, your party has been waiting for you!” the hostess said the moment the couple entered the door. “Right this way, please.”

Gulliver’s was packed that night, as it usually was on Friday evenings. The western-themed establishment had been started a few years prior by Whiz Walton, a famous columnist from New York City. Few people had ever met the famous Gulliver but those who had never forgot the experience, for he was a truly awe-inspiring individual. The most startling thing about him was not his massive height or strength, or the hard-won scars that reflected a lifetime spent in the remotest parts of the world. His most unusual characteristics were incredible courage, unwavering loyalty, and an utter hatred of all that is insincere. Tom had wanted to meet him for years but the reclusive individual spent most of his time out west, taking care of problems that only he could handle.

The hostess led them to a room in the back of the restaurant. “It looks like we really are the last people here,” Tom remarked. Seated at the table were his parents, Irene’s parents, and his sister Sandra. His father was sitting at the head of the table.

“We were wondering when you’d get here,” Sandra teased. “We were about to go ahead without you.”

Tom smiled as he took his seat beside his father and across from his mother. Irene sat down next to him. “It’s wonderful to see all of you,” he said. “We really should get together more often.”

“I know,” Irene’s father replied. Mike Goddard took a sip of his sweet tea and then placed his glass back on the table. “We used to get together all the time. I don’t know what’s happened.”

“You’ve gotten busy, dear,” Mike’s wife Shasta replied. “I do believe we’ve spent most of the summer in New Mexico. The desert is nice, you know, but it’s just not quite like the mountains we have here.”

“I’m so glad you’re both home,” Irene said warmly. “The house gets awfully lonely sometimes.”

“So how’s the research going?” Mike asked Tom Sr.

“Excellent!” Tom replied. “I think I’ve found a way to modify tomasite to convert heat and radiation directly to electricity. I’m still in the early research stages, but if I can improve the efficiency it will open up an entirely new type of reactor design.”

“You didn’t tell me about that!” Tom Jr. whispered to Irene. “That’s amazing.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know about it either. It must something your Dad came up with on his own.”

“I hope he can get it to work,” Tom remarked. “Can you imagine? Why, with miniaturization you could fit an entire atomic reactor inside a single capsule!”

“I’m afraid I’m a long way from that,” Tom’s dad commented. “But it’s an intriguing idea! My prototype ‘capsule’ is going to be several stories tall.”

“So how does it feel to finally be 17?” Sandra asked.

“I feel like I’m getting old!” Tom said, grinning. “Why, before you know it I’ll have morphed into a responsible adult that gets out of bed at a decent hour.”

“How terrible!” Irene said. “And to think I’m going to be an ancient, decrepit 18-year-old just two months from now. But I have a hard time believing that you have a quiet, sedentary life ahead of you, skipper. That just doesn’t happen to your family.”

Tom laughed. “You maybe right, Ace. So, tell me. What are you getting for dinner?”

“Do they have three-inch-thick steaks?” she asked.