“Three days! That’s a tough schedule to meet, son,” Mr. Swift put in. “And what about this TV demonstration you’ve promised?”
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“I sure won’t let it interfere with work on the probe, Dad.”
“Very well. Suppose you lay out our jobs.”
Tom turned to Bud. “I want you to act as coordinator between Fearing and Enterprises on the launch details. We’ll use the Sampson Mark III cargo rocket.
Tomorrow I’ll give you a rundown on all gear to go aboard. I want the rocket on its pad, fueled, and checked out for an eight a.m. blast-off on Tuesday.”
Bud’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “Rogerl”
“Hank, I have a pilot model ready of the TV camera gear which is to go inside the robots,” Tom went on. “Make me four production copies -and also three duplicates of the regular portable model.”
Hank Sterling promised to put a full night shift to work on the job at once.
“What about the robots themselves, Tom?” Dr. Grimsey inquired. He was shocked when Tom told him how the fire had destroyed the unfinished models.
“But the cybernetic units were still on the production line,” Tom added, “so they’re intact. I think you and Dad and I working together can make four new robots pretty fast.”
Swift Enterprises hummed with activity as the weekend began. On Saturday afternoon Bud, looking glum, dropped into Tom’s laboratory.
“Trouble?” the young inventor asked.
“Yeah, date trouble,” Bud said, flopping onto a 154 3-D TELEJECTOR
lab stool. “I was hoping to find time to take Sandy dancing tonight.”
“But she begged off?”