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Authors: Victor Appleton II
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brother—who’s not all that little anymore."
"When can we expect you over, Ted? You know how much we’d like to see you—Mom and Dad, and Bud― "
"And... Sandy?"
"And Sandy." Tom understood the reason for Ted’s awkward, hesitant question. It was quietly accepted that Ted had had romantic feelings toward Tom’s sister, feelings which Tom suspected Ted’s time on Loonaui had not extinguished.
Tom described his upcoming trip to Ngombia, departure scheduled for the next morning. "Actually, T-man, that’s something I wanted to bat around with you—a favor. I read about the Ngombia deal in the news, and figured you’d be heading there pretty soon. How’d you guys feel about taking me along?"
The youth chuckled. "Funny—someone else asked for the same favor the other day, and I turned him down. But you work for us, Ted; more importantly, you’re a trusted friend. Sure you can come!—start packing."
"Great! Want to know my reason?"
"Sure."
"Well, it’s one of these family-history things. Mom says one branch of the family came from that part of Africa ‘back in the day’. I’ve always wanted to pay a visit, bring back some photos and souvenirs. I think it’d mean a lot to her."
"You don’t need a reason, Ted," Tom remarked warmly. "But among all possible unneeded reasons, that’s a good one!"
Before retiring for the night the young prodigy took a moment to speak with his sister. "San, I know you know all about Ted’s feelings for you... "
"Obviously," Sandy responded with a wry nod. "Secret-keeping is impossible with Bashalli around. Or me, of course."
"Do you want me to speak to Ted? It might be unfair to encourage him—and sometimes even silence can be a sort of encouragement."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "Are you presuming to know my mind, Tom? You—and that Bud guy you hang around with—ought to give a try at not taking things for granted."
Tom conceded the point with a grin. "It’s between you and Ted. But I think there are a few people—even in Shopton—who might venture an opinion or two, whether we think it’s their business or not."
"Should I care what other people think?" Sandy’s look was proud, if slightly condescending. "I’m a Swift!"
Tom did no reading that night. The journal wound up in Tom’s luggage aboard the mammoth three-decker Sky Queen as it rose into the stratosphere the following morning and turned its nose toward Africa. The solar-powered craft, given VTOL capabilities by the banks of jet-lifters in its underbelly, had been Tom’s first major invention. True to its name, the Flying Lab was outfitted with the latest research equipment from all fields of science.
The supersonic jaunt across the Atlantic took a few brief hours, followed by a sky trek across the great bulge of Africa on a heading slightly south of east. Tom spent an hour in the view-lounge, with its floor-to-ceiling windows, reading over the journal article about the missing Professor Eldreth.
He had just finished, and was musingly watching the high cloud deck slip by below, when Hank Sterling entered. "Looks like you’re deep in Swiftonian thought, boss."
Tom shrugged. "Just turning the article over in my mind."
"Good stuff?"
"Interesting—but strange. It seems Eldreth was originally a highly-regarded cancer researcher. His studies led him into an investigation of the process of cell replication and how living organisms grow."
"I can see the relevance," Hank remarked as he settled down onto a contoured chair. "Cancerous tumors are runaway cell-splitting."
"Yes. But along the way he began to pursue some radical ideas. He thought it might be possible to engineer mutated viroids —basically the controlling ‘software’ of virus particles, or virions—and insert them into active virions to alter their function."
"To what end? Fighting cancer?"
"He seems to have abandoned that goal," replied Tom. "He became interested in modifying the rate of cell division, to promote faster and more
"When can we expect you over, Ted? You know how much we’d like to see you—Mom and Dad, and Bud― "
"And... Sandy?"
"And Sandy." Tom understood the reason for Ted’s awkward, hesitant question. It was quietly accepted that Ted had had romantic feelings toward Tom’s sister, feelings which Tom suspected Ted’s time on Loonaui had not extinguished.
Tom described his upcoming trip to Ngombia, departure scheduled for the next morning. "Actually, T-man, that’s something I wanted to bat around with you—a favor. I read about the Ngombia deal in the news, and figured you’d be heading there pretty soon. How’d you guys feel about taking me along?"
The youth chuckled. "Funny—someone else asked for the same favor the other day, and I turned him down. But you work for us, Ted; more importantly, you’re a trusted friend. Sure you can come!—start packing."
"Great! Want to know my reason?"
"Sure."
"Well, it’s one of these family-history things. Mom says one branch of the family came from that part of Africa ‘back in the day’. I’ve always wanted to pay a visit, bring back some photos and souvenirs. I think it’d mean a lot to her."
"You don’t need a reason, Ted," Tom remarked warmly. "But among all possible unneeded reasons, that’s a good one!"
Before retiring for the night the young prodigy took a moment to speak with his sister. "San, I know you know all about Ted’s feelings for you... "
"Obviously," Sandy responded with a wry nod. "Secret-keeping is impossible with Bashalli around. Or me, of course."
"Do you want me to speak to Ted? It might be unfair to encourage him—and sometimes even silence can be a sort of encouragement."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "Are you presuming to know my mind, Tom? You—and that Bud guy you hang around with—ought to give a try at not taking things for granted."
Tom conceded the point with a grin. "It’s between you and Ted. But I think there are a few people—even in Shopton—who might venture an opinion or two, whether we think it’s their business or not."
"Should I care what other people think?" Sandy’s look was proud, if slightly condescending. "I’m a Swift!"
Tom did no reading that night. The journal wound up in Tom’s luggage aboard the mammoth three-decker Sky Queen as it rose into the stratosphere the following morning and turned its nose toward Africa. The solar-powered craft, given VTOL capabilities by the banks of jet-lifters in its underbelly, had been Tom’s first major invention. True to its name, the Flying Lab was outfitted with the latest research equipment from all fields of science.
The supersonic jaunt across the Atlantic took a few brief hours, followed by a sky trek across the great bulge of Africa on a heading slightly south of east. Tom spent an hour in the view-lounge, with its floor-to-ceiling windows, reading over the journal article about the missing Professor Eldreth.
He had just finished, and was musingly watching the high cloud deck slip by below, when Hank Sterling entered. "Looks like you’re deep in Swiftonian thought, boss."
Tom shrugged. "Just turning the article over in my mind."
"Good stuff?"
"Interesting—but strange. It seems Eldreth was originally a highly-regarded cancer researcher. His studies led him into an investigation of the process of cell replication and how living organisms grow."
"I can see the relevance," Hank remarked as he settled down onto a contoured chair. "Cancerous tumors are runaway cell-splitting."
"Yes. But along the way he began to pursue some radical ideas. He thought it might be possible to engineer mutated viroids —basically the controlling ‘software’ of virus particles, or virions—and insert them into active virions to alter their function."
"To what end? Fighting cancer?"
"He seems to have abandoned that goal," replied Tom. "He became interested in modifying the rate of cell division, to promote faster and more
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