Let me tell you about the Swift family.
We're not nerds. We're Black nerds.
Oh, and billionaires
with the fastest whips that money can buy.
And swag.
That's me, and here's my family.
My parents and my cousin Lino.
We're not the Obamas, we're not ballers.
Nobody won a championship. We're inventors.
And for the past 80 years, if it has an engine,
me, my grandfather or my dad are the ones
who gave you the keys.
And today, we're going to Saturn.
Want to come?
Has anyone seen Tom? Has anyone seen Tom?
Barton is starting his speech.
I'll take your questions about the launch.
Mr. Swift, you stake the fate of your company on this venture.
Why now?
Why Saturn?
A successful mission to Saturn
will usher in a new era
of commercial space travel for Swift Enterprises.
Can your chief
of special projects engineering
tell us about the ship?
You mean my son, Tom.
Tom... I...
Tom...
I'm Claire Cormier, SVP of Special Projects.
I'll take the question.
You're asking about the ship.
As with everything with Swift Enterprises...
My word, Zenzi! Zenzi!
- Oh! - Hi. When did you get in?
- Two hours ago. - Oh.
- Not a bag, not a wrinkle. - Ugh.
Uh! I need your nighttime routine immediately.
I will tell you later, Aunt Lorraine.
They need Tom at the press conference.
We're not the Obamas, we're not ballers...
Lino, do you know where Tom is?
Your uncle's press conference already started, and...
What are you doing?
Tom and I built these jump shoes to help me with my vertical.
They're not finished, but I'm not waiting.
Oh, there's Isaac. He must be on his way to Tom.
Don't walk away!
Goodbye, Lino. Isaac?
Isaac? Tom is late
for the most important press event that we've...
Welcome back.
Careful. They just waxed.
Tom, you're late!
It's done.
Barclay, start the propulsion system.
Outstanding. Your best friend is here.
Hi, Zenzi.
Hi, Barclay. How's my favorite AI?
I'm well.
Ooh, I'm impressed.
You spent a full year playing house in Atlanta
and didn't get thick.
You know the press conference started ten minutes ago.
Come on. They're looking for you.
You know this is unnecessary.
You're safer when you're alert.
I'll make sure the transport for the propulsion system is secure.
Maybe I can just hire a man to treat me
as good as your bodyguard treats you.
Barclay, search for candidates for Zenzi's new man.
Do not search, Barclay.
We have to go.
Tom.
- Uncle Barton. - Zenzi.
Welcome home.
Thank you.
I heard great things
- about your work for us in Atlanta. - Well...
Well.
Would you excuse us?
Um...
- Sure. - Thanks.
You pulled the propulsion system without notifying me?
I upped the reaction rate to make sure
you get to Saturn and back in one year's time.
It's ready for Mission Control now.
Boy, have you lost your damn mind?
While I'm gone, you need to grow up.
Be a man.
A man meets his deadlines.
A man doesn't prance around half naked
and wear pants that are
- vacuum-sealed to his ass. - Got it.
- Be a man. Will do. - You look at me
while I'm speaking to you,
and you watch your tone.
You will have more responsibility heaped upon you
than you even know.
You're just not ready yet.
And your sensitivity...
... is why I'm making Claire interim CEO instead of you.
What?
I'm the one who found a meteorite
and turned it into the fuel
that will get you to outer space.
My sensitive ass and tailored pants are the reason
you can even go on this journey at all.
And my last name is the reason
why you have an observatory to play with.
You can learn a lot from how Claire runs the company while I'm away.
I taught her everything she knows.
Well, if being CEO means being like you and Claire,
then I'm good.
Well, if you feel that way, then...
there's no reason for you to come to the launch.
Bye, Dad.
Make sure that you mention in your speech
- _ - that the company is not overextended,
and after your father returns from Saturn
our stock value will skyrocket.
Tom? Hi, honey.
Tom, Justin is about to become the youngest partner
at my favorite IP firm.
I wanted you two to meet sooner, but Tom has been so busy.
He was on the cover of Vanity Fair.
I saw the Complex video on your shoe collection.
It's my crowning achievement.
Not revolutionizing space travel?
Doesn't everyone do that?
Well, I'll let you two get better acquainted.
I need to go freshen my lipstick
- before my husband turns his spaceship around. - Mm-hmm.
And if I may be so bold,
"Thomas and Justin Chase-Swift" would be an excellent monogram.
Sorry. She's very extra.
Yeah. She's not wrong, though.
- I'd put you on main. - Ooh.
I'd maybe give you a story.
So, what does a genius inventor do
when he's not inventing or genius-ing?
I have been known to eat and also drink.
Okay.
We could maybe go do that.
Oh...
I just need to make a quick rescue.
Excuse me. You dropped this.
Thanks.
- Congressman Eskol. - Hey, Tom.
- Hey. - Hi.
Are you trying to steal our hottest,
- youngest, singlest executive? - Oh.
Would you stop? He was just offering career advice.
And I won't keep you. That call's about to come in, I hear,
- so, good luck. - Thank you.
I haven't talked to my dad since he got on the ship, Zenzi.
- I think he's still too disappointed... - Stop, stop.
You are the reason we went to space.
Ladies and gentlemen,
your attention, please.
The moment we have all been waiting for.
This is your victory lap.
Today, Swift Enterprises has proven
that the sci-fi dream of long-distance space travel
is possible.
Barclay, take us to Saturn.
Hey, Dad, can you hear me?
Now this would be a bad time
to leave me on read. I mean, what's up?
Okay...
Uh, looks like we're having some technical, uh...
Tom!
No! No.
No, no, no, no.
Dad?
? His eye is on ?
? The sparrow ?
? And I know ?
? He watches ?
? Me... ?
Barton lived his life without apology
and without fear.
I was proud to call him a friend.
Thank you.
Son.
Thank you for being the man your father taught you to be.
Sorry.
Barclay, run another simulation of my father's flight path
with the variables that I wanted.
They're waiting for you.
Thank you all for coming.
I...
Well,
my father is...
My... my father...
You pulled the propulsion system without notifying me?
While I'm gone, you need to grow up. Be a man.
Tom!
He's dead.
And it's all my fault.
He's dead.
Uh, he's, uh...
We will miss your father, Tom.
I know you must be so shaken.
You know, my favorite memory of your dad is from
when I used to visit your house as a kid.
I would bomb around Swift Manor on my little pink bike.
You know, the one with the streamers on the handlebars.
And everyone would tell me to slow down, or I'd crash.
And one day, I did.
And when your father found me in the bushes
with my knees all scraped up,
he didn't yell.
You're just not ready yet.
And your sensitivity is why I'm making Claire...
He walked me back
to my bike and taught me how to ride faster...
... safely.
I'll keep riding fast, Uncle Barton.
Goodbye.
Boy, have you lost your damn mind?
You want to get out of here?
Um... sure.
I need to go feel something else.
I am sorry Tom disappointed you.
Oh, that's not fair.
His father just died. He's grieving.
And he's in pain.
No. I understand that, but
from what I just saw, he may not be ready
for what the Tubman social group requires.
We need leaders for The Mountaintop.
Where is Tom, anyway?
My sensitive ass and tailored pants
are the reason you can even go on this journey at all.
Tom!
Are you ready to go back to the repast?
My father was right about me.
I'm sensitive,
and I am weak.
I respectfully disagree.
Tom, I ran the simulation you wanted.
TL;DR, but the explosion started outside the ship's hull.
Then it wasn't my fault.
My propulsion system didn't fail.
I didn't kill my dad.
I'm gonna find out what did.
I need to collect satellite data for my dad's ship
as it passed through its early flight plan.
I'm going to reconstruct what happened.
I'll put in a request with the House Committee
on Science, Space and Technology,
but it's going to take time, Tom.
Congressman,
my parents bankrolled your last campaign.
Right? So, unless you want to go work the pole
for small-dollar donors online,
you're gonna get me what I need, and you're gonna get it...
Watch your tone
when you're talking to the congressman.
Okay, bodyguard.
- Give your mother my best. - Mm.
Got a prospective client for you.
Ward Chemicals.
They're requesting that you engineer a good soap.
- Oh, like, soap soap? - Yeah.
No. We build clean energy systems and navigation tech.
If they want soap, they can go to the corner store.
Listen, those clients are a lifeline.
Swift Enterprises' stock is in freefall.
We need a win to change the narrative
that we did blow all of our assets on a project that...
didn't go as... planned.
Meanwhile, Claire
wants to make her interim CEO position a forever thing.
She is trying to steal your company.
You are watching too many Hamlet TikToks.
The board will name a permanent CEO at the end of the year,
and it could still be you
if you would just stop punishing yourself.
Zenzi, the only thing punishing me is that eyeliner.
Goodbye. Bye.
Mm-hmm.
Rooibos or Earl Grey?
- Earl Grey. - Mm-hmm.
I've been looking into what happened to Dad's spaceship,
- and, um... - Tom,
I just want to drink some tea, darling.
So,
did you have a chance to talk to Justin at the repast?
He's a decent...
conversationalist.
He's perfect. No.
He's that Mayor Pete, but with an upper lip and a better jaw.
I'm sorry about the speech, Mom.
And I know you were overcome with grief,
in front of all those people.
But there won't be crowds on Saturday.
The dedication of your father's memorial.
I'll be there.
I promise.
I've analyzed all the data,
and there's no way that explosion was triggered
from inside the ship.
I need to see if anything hit my dad's ship
when it left the atmosphere.
Isaac, have you ever accessed classified satellite data?
Yes, but not without a SCIF.
A sensitive compartmented investigation facility,
like the retinal scan folder where you keep all your porn.
Seriously, bro?
What-what about a lab?
Or a university.
Every MIT reject's favorite safety school
is Windsor Polytechnic.
It's a half-hour from here.
And you think they'll just let you borrow their SCIF thing?
No.
Barclay, compose an email to Windsor Polytechnic.
"Dear Dean of Students, my name is Tom Swift... yes,
that Tom Swift...
and I'd like to endow a scholarship
for Black engineering students.
Would $20 million work?
We'd need to throw a VIP reception
announcing the gift by end of week.
Please respond by EOD.
Thank you."
Send message.
They may not let me borrow the SCIF,
but they'll sure as hell let me endow it.
Which car, Tom?
G-Wagen. We're gonna need space.
The SCIF room's covered by an alarm system,
activated by sound.
Oh, I have something for that.
Dampeners. They'll keep us from setting off the alarms.
Uh-huh. Barclay, put this on the screen.
It's like a selfie-steam.
It's a nano-polymer camera I developed
for taking better nudes.
So the steam is taking the photo.
We'll pipe it into the SCIF so I can see
what's on the screen inside it.
I'll take over the workstation.
Isaac, I want you to get us
into the restricted area,
kill the door alarm and pick the lock.
Lino, you will stay on surveillance at the G-Wagen.
Look at me.
Stay focused. No Overwatch.
Come on! I want to go for real!
And... you get to disable the cameras so I can break in.
Huh? Ah.
And now we just need someone to distract the dean.
Somebody who asks a lot of unnecessary questions.
No. No, absolutely not.
I'm not doing crime.
Girl, it's not crime. It's research.
Don't you want to find out what happened to your godfather?
I also want to keep his company afloat.
So, I need the soap revolution we promised Ward Chemicals by Thursday.
- Weekend. - Friday.
Done.
I want a wardrobe budget.
Com-strips. Earbuds felt pass�.
Wow.
Eskol came. I saw his name on the guest list,
- but, I... - Oh, is that why you wore that breakup outfit?
- Um... - Tom.
- Dean Brooks. - We're so grateful for your generosity.
Oh, it's my pleasure. My pleasure.
With your donation, we're gonna be able to build the Swift...
... the plan to sort of help get us through this...
Coast is clear. Go now.
Yeah, yeah, he wouldn't let us do that.
gonna get a drink.
Okay.
- So, good talking to you. - Uh, Dean Brooks,
have you met our congressman?
No, I haven't.
Please allow me to introduce you.
- Wow, Zenzi. - Good evening, Congressman.
Running the footage back three seconds, and...
looping it.
Like you were never there.
Barclay, you should be able to begin the data transfer now.
Someone's coming, Tom. Get out!
He can't. There are terabytes of data left.
75% there.
Hurry up, Tom.
See? There's no one here.
Our security system said
there was a breach on your watch.
I thought you were making a lifelong commitment
- to the organization. - I am.
Leadership knows that.
I've proven my loyalty.
Yes, I've spoken with them.
They've decided to treat you with leniency.
I'll wipe the surveillance tapes.
Take care of this.
Tom, where the hell are you?
I don't have him.
Me, neith...
Oh, wait! Binary code!
"... leave without me... "
Barclay, you and Tom have a secret language?
It's cipher code he invented when he was nine.
Now he's says, "Seriously, Isaac, get Z and leave."
Take off your clothes.
We need to leave here undetected.
I know D.C. has a lot to offer,
but I'm putting down roots in New York.
Ah, that'll be D.C.'s loss.
Lovely party, Congressman.
? You just lift your head up high... ?
Tom says, "Don't make a scene, act natural."
Didn't know you could dance.
My ex-girlfriend insisted we take lessons.
- Girlfriend? - What?
You don't think trans guys have annoying exes?
I didn't think Army Rangers could foxtrot.
You and I have never danced.
Something must've happened to Tom.
Where did that man in the suit come from, huh?
A-and what organization is he working for? The government?
A private group? And how did you know I would need rescuing?
I was just a guest at the party
who saw something about to go down.
Oh, come on. Don't give me strong silent top.
Somebody had to know we were in there.
- People are watching you, Tom. - What people?
This way!
Nice nails, though.
The congressman into glitter?
Look, where I'm from, nothing was pretty,
so I like to see something beautiful every day.
If you would just answer my questions.
Why did you get involved at all?
You're Eskol's bodyguard.
And why did you risk your actual neck to help me? Huh?
Because you deserve to know what happened to your father.
How do you know my father?
- Wait. H... how do you... Wait. - I... I...
Wait. Wait. Wait! Wait!
All right? Isaac, he helped me.
He's a friend.
I hope you find what you need, Tom.
Thank you.
I don't know your name.
- Rowan. - Rowan,
have a good day.
Where have you been all night?
I got detained.
Did you get the data? What happened?
Okay, I-I need to work on this.
No time for the Zenzi show. I... I'll explain later.
Uh, I-I think you mispronounced "thank you."
I just helped you with an illegal mission?
Okay, Zenzi, thank you for helping me.
I got what I needed, and I'm okay. Are you good?
- You done? All right. - Gonna ignore that.
You need to stop treating us like the hired help.
Uh, by "us", you mean the people who work for me?
I mean your brother, who loves you,
your mom, who's done literally everything for you,
me, who is constantly picking up your slack.
Girl, everything you have, you have
because you're my playmate, so maybe stop right there.
Oh, okay. Well, as your business colleague,
I put everything on the line for you tonight while
all you've done is embarrass me with Ward Chemicals.
No. You're asking me to do soap in the middle of all this?
I am telling you that while you're on your quest
for justice, people's lives are on the line,
but you're too selfish to see that.
- Excuse me? - Your father
never would have blown off this project.
Your father would have made sure his thousands of employees
- kept their jobs. - Yeah. Uh, uh...
And that's why your dad chose Claire to be CEO
and not you, because you are a spoiled brat
who would rather play fix-it with his stupid toys
than to lift a finger to help anyone else.
You're right.
I don't stop trying to fix things,
because I will never fix me.
Uncle Barton loved you. No, no, no, no, no.
He never would have said otherwise
because it wouldn't be socially acceptable
for him to admit that he was embarrassed to have a gay son.
So I will never be the man my father wanted me to be.
Now he's dead.
I've analyzed all the data you stole from the SCIF,
and I found something interesting.
When your dad's ship left Earth's thermosphere,
it passed right by a satellite
- that took a shot at him. - "Shot"?
C-can you show me
what you compiled from those satellite images?
Whatever they shot at Barton's ship,
it was very sticky.
And then, six months later...
It killed my dad.
Which satellite fired the projectile?
I couldn't find any info on it. Okay.
Go through your visual memory cache in the past two weeks.
Have we seen that symbol anywhere?
Is it in any graphic database online?
I need to give you a tune-up.
You're skipping.
Found it in the selfie-photo steam.
Phone should be ringing, 'cause you called it.
Barclay, text Justin:
"You up?"
He already texted you back.
Barclay, send text:
"Can you use your lawyer connects to find out
who owns this satellite?"
Sent.
I think he was disappointed
that you didn't text a selfie back.
How do you know he's disappointed?
The dots go slower when he types.
Sad boys type slow.
Oh, wait, he sent an audio text.
This logo doesn't exist in any corporate register.
But the launchpad belongs to a private company.
You know its founder.
Your good friend, the congressman.
So Eskol is allied with neck-breakers
and he murdered your dad.
- Ready to send your reply? - No.
Is this paper?
How timeless.
I couldn't say it over the phone, but Eskol's company,
- Stone Corporation... - Okay, could he have tried
to call it something less evil?
They're rumored to be a front
for an Illuminati-scale group
called The Road Back.
Supposedly, The Road Back wants to prevent
the technological advancement of humanity.
My father was murdered
by a group working to undermine
everything Swift Enterprises stands for.
Hey, hey.
I'll help you find more info.
Lorraine will kill me
if I get her favorite young lawyer
wrapped up in this mess.
Crap.
- Lorraine. I... I have to go. - But...
Mom.
I'm sorry I missed the dedication.
But I've been trying...
Reverend Jones said your absence proved you're not ready
to move up in the Tubman social group.
I-I don't care about the reverend's dinner club
for old people. I've been trying to tell you...
That is quite enough, Tom.
I'm just happy your father isn't here to see
the trifling behavior of his only son.
You know, I-I have shielded you
from more than you will ever know.
I thought someday you would grow up
and realize your potential.
I see now it was a mistake.
Your father's gone.
Now it's up to me to pick up where he left off.
If I can't fix my life, I'll fix these shoes.
Make some soap for Zenzi.
I designed a nano-hydraulic system to work
with the compacted bioethanol I threw together last night.
Whoa.
It's spotless.
Bro, the biofuel just cleaned this tank.
I multi-tasked.
Meet the state-of-the-art soap
that we're licensing to Ward Chemicals.
This non-flammable liquid dissolves surface particles
while purifying air on contact.
Oh, you're welcome.
I just saved the company.
I know what my father thought of me.
That I'm too "sensitive"
to be CEO, but that's only
because he thought in order to lead,
you had to be boring...
and basic and ordinary.
Like you, Claire.
But I know that having an imagination,
a willingness to learn and the balls to try new things
will take you much further
than kissing the right asses will.
So...
I'm not giving up my company.
I'm coming for the crown.
Then you better not miss.
That file size doesn't make sense.
It says there are ten terabytes of data there,
but it's only a few seconds long.
Barclay?
What if this data can't be accessed by newer means?
What if we got to go retro and use
an old-school method instead?
Pull up a command-line interface.
I'm gonna do this manually.
Tom, listen to me.
My ship has been destroyed.
I escaped into the starboard bay that broke off
and sealed itself during the explosion.
This is timestamped three hours after the explosion.
When he should've been dead.
I have one working research pod left.
It's where I'll be hiding.
I'm sending a hypervelosic capsule back to Earth
that will give you everything you need to find me.
It cannot wind up in anyone's hands but yours.
And, Tom...
one other thing.
I want you to know...
No. No, no, no, no, no, no.
Recover the rest of that message!
I can't. It's gone.
But the capsule is on its way through the atmosphere.
Call Zenzi. We're going for a ride.
Barton's message capsule is headed for splashdown
in the Hudson River, 12 miles away.
You got this, Tom.
Now you've got a vantage point
on the landing spot that I projected.
The capsule should be incoming shortly.
So your dad's alive.
He sent you a capsule.
And Eskol is very bad?
Hmm, yeah, well, I guess all the good ones
are married, gay or criminal masterminds.
Thanks for looping us in.
I know I was harsh... on you.
And I was a dick.
Yeah.
Sometimes I forget that I don't...
I don't do anything alone.
Mm.
And it's not "the Zenzi show."
It's that I can't do this without you.
Is that self-awareness and humility from the Tom Swift?
Are you sure we're looking for a capsule
- and not a flying pig? - Okay.
Glad you worked it out.
But now I suggest we call NASA and ask them for help.
We don't know if NASA has been infiltrated by The Road Back.
And Uncle Barton will ration
his supplies until we find him.
Uncle Barton climbed Everest with no oxygen
and a broken foot. Saturn is light work.
Uh-oh.
The capsule's signal just broke up into pieces.
It must have shattered upon re-entry.
Fragments are spreading out as we speak.
Closest one is now headed for the South, maybe Georgia.
Others will drop down in Oklahoma,
Utah, California.
The message got destroyed?
Wait.
Not destroyed.
Disassembled.
Each piece should survive re-entry.
Those fragments are scattering across the entire country.
Oh, no, if only we had the resources
to go out and find them. Barclay,
track the pieces of the capsule as they fall to Earth.
Tracking now.
I've been wanting to take a road trip.
Zenzi, Isaac, pack your bags.
Wheels up in an hour. Gonna find the capsule pieces,
and reassemble the message that my father sent.
Come on.
That's how we'll rescue him.
We can't let anyone know what we're doing.
We can only trust each other.
Isaac...
I owe you an apology.
I know I can be a touch self-absorbed,
but Zenzi read me down,
and... I'm so glad
you're in my life.
I can't do this without you.
Also, your refusal to wear
anything other than black is enraging.
So...
I have a slightly more stylish
monochrome fit waiting for you on the jet.
32 waist, right?
Thank you.
Look, I'll be home as quick as I can.
And you let me know if that Claire person is with Mom.
Yeah.
Let us not depart in silence.
How about this one?
I think it says adventure.
I'm pleased we were able to compromise
the AI network undetected.
Barclay, he calls it?
Once our spyware works its way
through the AI's operating system,
we'll have full control.
I can count on you all to
keep Tom Swift from discovering our plans?
Yes, sir.
No matter what.
- Synced and corrected by chamallow - - www.addic7ed.com -