Mr. Swift shook his head. “That’s what worries me. The message broke off before it was completed.”
“Dad, we’d better get back to the plant fast and see if there’s any further word!”
“Right, son!”
Since his early teens Tom had worked closely with his father and had perfected several inventions which had been patented. His first big craft had been the Flying Lab. But nothing interested him more than creating rockets for explorations in space. Now another journey, the most daring and challenging yet, lay just ahead.
After telephoning for a salvage crew to remove the disabled Pigeon Special from the water, Tom
SOS TO ENTERPRISES 13
hopped into Mr. Swift’s sedan with Bud and drove back to Enterprises. The boys quickly changed into dry clothing, then hurried over to the communications building to rejoin Tom Sr.
“Nothing yet from our planet friends,” he reported. “I sent out a message requesting more information, but so far it hasn’t been acknowledged.” Mr. Swift was striding back and forth as he waited impatiently for the bell which signaled an incoming message.
The electronic brain looked somewhat like an oversized teletype machine, with a keyboard for sending. Computer elements which did the coding or decoding were housed in the lower part of the console.
“Do you think something happened to the space people before they could finish their call for help?” Bud asked. “Maybe a disaster of some kind?”
“I wish I knew, Bud!” Mr. Swift fretted.
“How about the machine itself? Are you sure it’s working properly?” Tom asked.
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