Within minutes, a group of five of his most trusted associates had assembled in Tom’s office.  First to arrive were Bud Barclay, Ames, and George Dilling, the Swifts’ communications chief.  They were joined moments later by Hank Sterling, the square-jawed chief engineer and trouble shooter of Enterprises, and Arvid Hanson.

Hanson, a hulking six-footer, made all the delicate scale models of Tom Jr.’s and Tom Sr.’s inventions.  He was not only an expert craftsman, but, like all the Swifts’ key men, a trained aircraft and space pilot as well.

“What’s up, skipper?” Bud asked.

“I guess you might call this a council of war,” Tom replied.

He divulged his fears that Brungarian scientists might hijack the brain energy to be sent from Planet X, home of the Swifts’ unknown space friends.

“Bud, you recall Mother’s remark last night about the danger that this energy may prove overwhelmingly powerful,” Tom went on.  “Well, just suppose that our Brungarian pals fit it out in robot form, then turn it loose against us or our friends in other countries.”

Bud gave an awed whistle.  “Boy, a thing like that might make even a powerful missile look like a toy!”

Even if the brain energy proved too small to be harnessed for destructive purposes, Tom went on, it might turn out to possess superintelligence.  Gifted with all the scientific know-how of the space people, it might be made to reveal those secrets to the Brungarians.

“They might learn from it how to construct weapons or space craft powerful enough to conquer the free world!” Tom ended.

His listeners were grim-faced at the thought.

“I’d say that’s a far worse danger than any chance of their coming up with a robot monster,” Ames said.

“Ditto!” Hanson agreed.

“I think so too,” Tom replied.  “In any case, it’s up to us to make sure the Brungarians don’t switch that energy off course before it lands here.”

“Think their scientists are capable of such a stunt?” George Dilling inquired.

Tom shrugged.  “They’re certainly far advanced in the fields of rocket guidance and telemetry.  But actually we just don’t know.”

Hank Sterling glanced hopefully at the young inventor.  “Got any ideas, skipper?” he asked.

Tom drummed a pencil on the table thoughtfully before replying.  “Maybe our best bet is first to find out all we can about the lines of research on which they’re concentrating.  That might be the tip-off.”

After a thorough discussion, it was decided that Ames and Dilling would fly to Washington at once and talk to the FBI and Central Intelligence.  Their job would be to garner and piece together every scrap of information on Brungarian scientists’ accomplishments.

“Let us know as soon as you get a general picture,” Tom said.

Ames and Dilling promised to do so, and the meeting broke up.