Part 28 (1/2)

”What about them Brungarian sidewinders?” put in Chow.

”That's the question!” Tom swooped down to rejoin the other two craft.

”We'll keep an eye out for enemy blips while we do our prospecting.”

Rather than lose time trying to contact Bud, Tom decided to let him find the _Sea Hound_. Accordingly, he switched off the antidetection system and ordered all s.h.i.+ps to submerge. Arv's seacopter and Mel's jetmarine were to maintain close formation and stand guard while Tom's craft did the actual searching.

Now the missile hunt began. Tom had plotted a concentric search pattern, focused on the probable position worked out by the task-force computers.

After checking his fix on the automatic navigator, Tom switched on the Damonscope and steered the _Sea Hound_ on a gradually circling course.

The Damonscope was mounted in a blister on the hull, its camera lens pointing toward the ocean floor. The automatic developing film would record any trace of fluorescence, and a red light would signal this result to the pilot's cabin.

Minutes went by as the _Sea Hound_ nosed slowly along through the gray-green gloom, its sister craft flanking it a hundred yards on either side. They were moving only a fathom or so above the bottom.

”A blip at eleven o'clock!” the sonarman called out suddenly. Tom's pulse quickened. ”Moving straight toward us,” the sonarman added.

Tom surrendered the controls to Zimby long enough to dart over and study the sonarscope. ”I've a hunch it's Bud,” he told the others.

His guess proved correct when the unmistakable outline of a jetmarine loomed into view. Tom flicked on the search beam for a moment, and Bud could be seen waving through the cabin window. Then the yellow glare went off, and Bud's jetmarine glided away to take up a scouting position ahead of the _Sea Hound_.

An hour went by, then another. Suddenly a flash of light stabbed through the murk from dead ahead.

”It's a signal from Bud!” Zimby exclaimed.

Tom nodded grimly. ”He's spotted trouble--probably an enemy sub.”

Silence settled over the cabin as Tom reached out to switch on the antisonar circuits.

At that same instant a red light flashed on the control panel. ”The Damonscope!” Tom cried out. ”We may be over the Jupiter prober!”

Cutting off the steering jets, Tom gave a brief flick on the reverse jets to halt the craft. Then he turned over the controls to Zimby and began stripping down to don a hydrolung suit.

”Gallopin' guppies! What're you aimin' to do?” Chow exploded.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

”Go out and look for that missile,” Tom said calmly. ”It's what we came for.”

”Are you loco, boss? What about that sub Bud just spotted? Mebbe it's Mirov's bunch!”

Tom refused to be dissuaded. After swallowing a s.p.a.ce-plant pill, he armed himself with an underwater flashlight.

”Think it's safe to show that light, skipper?” a crewman asked uneasily.

”If the enemy spots it, I'm hoping they'll think it's coming from a school of lantern fish or sea anglers,” Tom explained. He picked up a three-p.r.o.nged digging fork with his other hand and went out through the air lock.

Tom glided back to the spot which the _Sea Hound_ had just pa.s.sed over and began digging into the silt. Presently he felt the fork strike something hard.

”An obstruction!” Tom thought excitedly.