In despair, Tom turned to his father.  “You know how much is at stake, Dad!” he pleaded.  “Isn’t there something we can do?”

Mr. Swift had been silent, thoughtfully drumming his pencil on the workbench.  He looked up.

“Tom, I can think of only one thing,” he said.  “Perhaps our friends on Planet X can help us.  They said they would have no control over the energy until it was ready to return home.  But maybe we can get them to help us transfer the energy back here—­not by any means of earth transportation, but by some extraterrestrial means known to their scientists.”

Tom’s eyes kindled with hope.  “Dad, that’s a terrific idea!” he exclaimed.  “Let’s try!”

A message was quickly beamed out into space.  Minutes went by.  Then the machine signaled a reply.  It said: 

    WE WILL ATTEMPT RESCUE IF YOU WILL ARC A POWERFUL RADIO BEAM
    FROM POINT OF ORIGINAL EARTH LANDING TO POINT WHERE ENERGY IS
    NOW.

Moments later, a further message followed, giving technical instructions on how to project the beam.  It ended: 

    NOTIFY US WHEN SETUP IS READY.

“Yahoo!” Chow whooped.  “Brand my space guns, I reckon we’ll get Ole Think Box home safe after all!”

“He’s not home yet, Chow,” Tom cautioned, grinning but still tense with worry.  “Glad you said that, though.  It reminds me that the first job on our hands is to build a new think box for Exman!”

With hope alive, Tom turned icy calm and buckled down to the work at hand.  Before beginning construction of a new space robot, he contacted Exman via the electronic brain and asked him for his exact location in Brungaria.  The answer came in precise latitude and longitude.

Next, Tom radioed instructions for the rescue plan.  As soon as Exman was notified that the invisible force from Planet X was ready to transport his energy, he was to unlatch point five of his star head.  He would then be free to attach his energy to the rescue beam and be arced back to the hillside spot near Enterprises, where Tom would have a new robot body waiting.

Exman replied tersely: 

    MESSAGE UNDERSTOOD.  WILL COMPLY.

Tom snapped out orders.  “Hank!  Arv!  Bud!  And, Dad, we can sure use your help too!  Every hour may be precious!  We must construct a replica of Exman’s robot container as fast as possible!”

Every resource of Swift Enterprises was convulsed into action.  But for all their scientific miracles, the staff could not perform magic.  The complicated robot device required hours of highly skilled construction.

Darkness had fallen by the time the energy container was ready.  Meanwhile, a powerful transmitter and directional antenna had been set up at the hillside spot.  Extensive reports on the condition of the ionosphere poured into headquarters.

The Swifts and their small group of trusted associates trucked the new robot and the electronic brain out to the site.  Tom then signaled his space friends that he was ready.  They responded with the exact time for the rescue attempt.  Tom transmitted the information to Exman, who replied: