At its side was another example of Hanson’s craft-manship-a bright yellow model of Tom’s rocket ship, the Star Spear, resting on three red fins. In it Tom and Bud had entered a space race. A third model rested on his massive desk.
This one was his favorite-a large silver reproduction of his Flying Lab.
“Well, Tom, how did you make out?” Mr. Swift asked, clicking off the dictating machine.
“The plane has completely vanished, Dad. If it did land, it’s well hidden.”
Mr. Swift walked to his son’s side and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let this mystery take all of your time. I’ll need that giant robot pretty soon. How is work on it progressing?”
“He’s still headless.” Tom grinned. “But from his neck down he works well.
Want to see him?”
“Indeed I do.”
Mr. Swift followed his son along a corridor, then both stepped onto a conveyor belt. Picking up speed, the moving floor rapidly transported them to the main wing of the laboratory building. They entered Tom’s metallurgy and electronics laboratory, filled
THE HEADLESS GIANT 17
with motors, workbenches, and lathes. In a corner stood the giant lifelike robot.
Even without its “head,” the gleaming, silver-gray automaton stood seven feet tall. Tomasite, the young inventor’s wonder plastic, covered every part of its frame except the joints. These were enclosed in “sleeves” of fine Tomasite chain mail which stretched and contracted with the movements of the joints.
“I suppose the transmitting and receiving antenna will be in the head?” Mr.
Swift asked.