Tom Swift and His Flying Lab by Victor Appleton II

Author:Victor Appleton II
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

THE FIRST FLIGHT

"GOOD GOSH!" Tom thought, his pulse racing. "Am I dreaming?"

The bizarre intruder was glowing a faint turquoise green, most of the luminosity emanating from its rounded, bulbous head, which seemed to be semi-transparent. There was no sign of nose, mouth, ears, or hair on the being’s head, and only two dark ovals where its eyes should be. Below the head there was a suggestion of shoulders and a torso, but the glow extended no further down than that. It did not move like a person walking, but like something hovering in midair, ghostlike.

Tom forced himself to speak aloud. "Can you hear me?"

The intruder seemed to pause, waiting.

"Are you from the planet that sent the missile to us? My name is Tom Swift." Tom sat up, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed. "If you could hang there for just a minute, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. She’s really just your type, and I happen to know she’s desperate for a date. But listen, ET, don’t let her cook for you if you value your health!"

There was a stifled burst of male laughter from the hallway, along with Sandy’s irritated voice. "Oh, stop it, Bud, it’s not funny."

Sandy marched through the bedroom doorway, flipping on the light.

"Oh, I suppose I shouldn’t even try to fool you, Tom," she said.

Bud poked his head through the door. "What gave us away?"

"Nothing, flyboy—for about ten seconds," answered Tom, sitting cross-legged on his bed. "Then I heard the floorboards creak out in the hall. So what have we here?"

The "alien" turned out to be a sort of balloon sculpture, its "eyes" drawn on by dark marking-pen. A six-foot length of rigid plastic tubing, carefully taped to the back of the figure’s head, allowed Bud to lift and maneuver it while out of sight in the hallway.

"How did you make it glow green like that?"

"Just a little penlight shining up the tube," answered Sandy, "which was my idea, and pretty clever if you ask me! The color of the balloons gave color to the light, and the tube—"

"I know," said Tom; "leftover pipe from when we had the lawn sprinklers redone."

"Think of this as a send-off gag celebrating the big flight," Bud remarked.

"It was a good one," Tom chuckled. "And yes, sis, it was pretty clever, and I guess I deserved it, too."

Tom slept restfully for the remainder of the night, and began the workday with a burst of energy. Now and then he glanced out the office window, which was high enough to allow a view of the nearby road to Shopton. He couldn’t resist the thrill of pride as he took note of rows of parked cars and groups of people sitting in lawn chairs along the road, as if awaiting an air show. The road was also dotted with news vans from all networks and all parts of the country.

At 10:30 Damon Swift entered the office with a tall, red-haired young man who sported a neatly trimmed moustache.

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