"Appleton, Victor - Tom Swift Jr 18 - And the Electronic Hydrolung" - читать интересную книгу автора (Appleton Victor)

flight around Jupiter was to take and record all kinds of data. But none of the info
is being radioed back to us."
"How come?"
"If we had put in radio gear strong enough to relay signals back, it would
have cut down the amount of information-gathering equipment aboard," Tom
explained. "We had to make every ounce count."
PIRATE MISSILE 13
Outwardly calm, Tom was seething with inner excitement. Although only
eighteen-the same age as his husky, dark-haired pal and copilot, Bud Barclay-
Tom had been given the job of directing the recovery phase of the United States
government's Project Jupiter survey. The Swifts and their rocket research staff
had built the missile and engineered the space probe for the government.
"Whew!" Bud gave a nervous whistle. "I see what you mean, pal. With all our
eggs in one basket, we sure can't afford to get butter-fingered with the Jupiter
prober."
Admiral Walter, a tall, distinguished man, graying at the temples, smiled. "It's
what we call in warfare a calculated risk, Bud," he said. "But with Tom in charge,
I believe we have nothing to worry about."
Mr. Swift's eyes shone with fatherly pride at the admiral's remark. Tom Jr.'s
pioneering rocket flights and inventions had won the youth a top rank in
American space research.
"Guess you're right, sir," Bud agreed. "I'll back genius boy here any day!"
Tom winced as Bud whacked him heartily on the shoulder. "Better save your
orchids and keep your fingers crossed, fly boy," the young inventor advised.
"That rocket's not home yet."
Radio telescopes, both on land and aboard the ships of the task force, were
following the mis-
14 THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG
sile's progress as it drew closer to earth. All were feeding a steady stream of
information to the ships' computers.
"How soon will you fire the retro-rockets, Tom?" Admiral Walter inquired
presently.
"In about ten seconds, sir," Tom replied, eying the sweep second hand of the
clock.
Moments later, a red light flashed on the master control panel. Tom's finger
stabbed a button. Far out in space, the retarding rockets in the missile's nose
were triggered for a brief burst, slowing its high speed. Without this, the missile
would hurtle to flaming destruction in the atmosphere.
"We've picked it up!" shouted a radarman.
Bud gave a whoop of excitement and everyone crowded around the
radarscope. Tom's steel-blue eyes checked the blip. Then he threw a switch
which started an automatic plotting machine that had been prepared with the
landing plan, and noted that the missile was slightly off the correct path. A new
flow of information now began pulsing in as other ships' tracking radars recorded
its course. The data was being fed automatically to the "capture" computer. This
would analyze the correct flight path for the recovery missile, which would
magnetically seize the returning traveler from Jupiter and bring it safely home.
Tom quickly read off the results from the computer's dials, then busied
himself again with the retarding-rocket controls.
PIRATE MISSILE 15