Tom lay in the hospital bed, comfortably numb from the painkillers surging through his veins.

"Right here is the fracture to your fibula," the doctor said, gesturing to the x-ray illuminator. "And there's also a tiny crack in your tibia."

Tom frowned in annoyance. He had hoped the impact of the robotic limb had only caused bruising. "What does that mean?"

"We recommend you stay off your feet for at least eight weeks. At that time, we can re-evaluate."

"Don't worry, Tom," Sandra said, resting her hand on his shoulder. "There's a ton of mobility equipment just begging to be tested. We've got everything from hoverboard wheelchairs to cybernetic limbs."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Tom said, his words slightly slurred due to the morphine. "I'm sure some crutches will do just fine."

"I feel so bad," Mandy exclaimed, tears in her eyes. "If I hadn't been there, you would have been able to get out of the way."

"No," Tom shook his head. "I'm one-hundred percent confident I was the target. All I did was put you in danger."

"We don't know what happened," Sandra said. "Don't blame yourself."

A knock on the door drew everyone's attention away from Tom. Harlan Ames, Swift Enterprises' security chief, was visible in the window.

"We'd better head out," Rick said. He leaned in next to Tom and spoke in a low tone. "Using your body to shield Mandy was quite heroic, I'm sure she will be quite grateful." He winked at Tom before heading out.

"Yeah, I need to run too," Sandra added as she rose to her feet. "I have to go meet the new girl in the intern program. She's from back east, some town on Long Island. Bay-something."

"See you later Tom," Mandy said. She leaned in close to Tom, her dark hair brushing across his face. "I really owe you," she whispered into his ear. She laid a scorching kiss on Tom's lips.

"Ahem," Tom Swift Sr. cleared his throat.

Mandy turned bright red and left without another word.

"Was I interrupting something?" Tom's father asked, his handsome face trying valiantly to suppress a smile.

Tom sighed. "No, my friends were leaving. Don't worry Dad, I'm fine. I only have to be a cripple for a few months."

Harlan lowered his lean blue-uniformed frame into a chair in the medical room. "What do you think was the cause of that fiasco?"

Tom furrowed his brow in thought. "Probably some sort of programming error. AI is unpredictable, and I wasn't worried about model transparency when I built the football program."

Tom's father sat on the couch in the cutting-edge Swift Enterprises medical room. "The black-box effect is well documented, but I'm concerned there's a different reason for the malfunction that landed you here." Tom Swift Sr. glanced around the room to ensure they were alone before pulling what looked like a pen out of his pocket and twisting the end. It was actually a microsonic jammer, capable of blocking any microphones from being able to pick up their speech.

"Swift Enterprises has a problem," Harlan Ames said, his weather-beaten face carved with lines of worry. "Someone has been able to get a hold of unreleased prototypes, copy them, and then flood them onto the black market. They've been turning up all across the world, from battlefields to tinpot dictators' private armies."

"The Pentagon has threatened to pull our contracts unless we can fix the situation," Tom's dad explained. "They're also sending in an investigative team from an intelligence agency to help us pinpoint the source of the leaks. We're meeting with them in my office in fifteen minutes. Can you join us?"

A few minutes later, Tom hobbled into the administration tower in the center of the complex. He had refused all mobility aids except for a pair of carbon-fiber crutches. He was immediately swept off his feet by his gleaming seven-foot tall robot assistant, Rob.

"Put me down," Tom demanded as he beat against the metallic chestplate, blood rushing to his cheeks in embarrassment as Rob strode to the elevator.

"What's going on here?"

Tom looked over to see a small group led by a tall handsome man in a crisp navy suit standing by the welcome desk.

Rob quickly lowered Tom to the floor.

"I apologize," Rob spoke in a hushed tone as close to a whisper as his voicebox could approximate. "I recently watched the Uncle Jack episode of Arrested Development and thought the humor would-" he stopped speaking when Tom raised his hand in a gesture for silence.

"Agent Klein," Tom Swift Sr. said with a pained look on his face.

The man wore an expression of annoyance as he glanced at his expensive gold watch. "You are ten minutes late to our already postponed meeting. Is this type of tomfoolery normal around here? If so, that would explain the necessity of our presence."

"Tom was injured in an accident," Tom's father quickly explained, politely ignoring the rest of what the agent had said. "We're sorry to keep you waiting. Let's head up to my office."

Tom looked at the rest of the visitors. He was surprised to recognize three. The distinguished middle-aged man standing next to Agent Klein was Fenton Hardy, a famous private detective. He had previously used Swift Enterprises as a consultant on an archaeological fraud case. Standing behind him were his two sons who Tom had briefly met. Rounding out the group were a short Asian man dressed in a polo and slacks, and a pretty young brunette wearing a skirt suit and carrying a notepad.

"Is he coming along too?" Agent Klein asked, frowning at Tom. "This is a serious matter of national security."

Harlan Ames turned red. Tom worried that the tense situation was about to go nuclear when Fenton stepped in to mediate.

"It would be quite hypocritical of me to bring my sons along to help and forbid Mr. Swift from doing likewise," Mr. Hardy pointed out in a calm voice. "I completely understand dropping everything to go check on a child's health." Fenton turned to Tom. "Does your robot really watch sitcoms? That's a pretty impressive piece of programming."

"Rob's a very complicated piece of machinery," Tom Swift Sr. said proudly. "Tom's done a great job programming him to be as lifelike as possible."

"I hope you're not using federal dollars to create android comedians," Agent Klein said icily, straightening his tie even though it wasn't crooked. "Tom can come along, let's just get to it."

The nine people awkwardly crowded into an elevator as it rapidly ascended to Tom's father's office. Suddenly, the lights went out and the elevator jolted to a halt.

"Is Rob running the elevator?" Joe Hardy joked. He gathered some nervous laughter.

The compartment began to flash red as the building's emergency klaxon blared. The laughter immediately stopped. Tom's stomach flew into his chest as the elevator dropped into a freefall.