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

"Everything going okay, skipper?" Bud asked.
Tom nodded. "I've readjusted the retarding rockets. They'll fire at the proper
intervals to slow down the missile still further and bring it back on beam."
The excited buzz of voices in the compartment gradually quieted as the clock
ticked steadily toward the next step in the recovery operation.
"Stand by for missile firing!" Tom snapped.
A seaman relayed the order over the ship's intercom. Tense silence fell as
Tom's eyes followed the sweep of the second hand.
"All clear for blast-offl" came the talker's report.
Tom pressed the firing button. A split second later the listeners' eardrums
throbbed to a muffled roar from topside as the slender recovery missile shot
skyward. The ship rocked convulsively from the shock of blast-off. Then it
steadied again as the gyros damped out the vibrations.
"Wow!" Bud heaved a sigh of relieved tension. Then he dashed from the
compartment and up the nearest ladder for a quick look at the rocket as it
disappeared into the blue.
Tom watched the recovery missile intently on the radarscope.
"Nice going, son," said Mr. Swift quietly.
In response to his father's reassuring grip on his arm, Tom flashed him a
hasty smile. For the first time, the young inventor realized he was
16 THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG
beaded with perspiration and that his pulse was hammering.
"It's a case of wait and hope," Tom murmured.
On every ship and plane in the task force, eyes
were glued to the radar screens. Two small blips were visible-one the Jupiter
probe missile, the other the recovery missile-moving on courses that would soon
intersect.
PIRATE MISSILE 17
Just as Bud returned to the compartment, several of the watchers gave
startled gasps.
"Another blip-coming in from nine o'clockl" Admiral Walter exclaimed. "What's
that?"
Tom stared at the new blip. It was moving steadily toward the meeting point
of the first two missiles!
"It's a thief missilel" Tom cried out. "Some enemy's trying to steal our probe
data!"
"Good nightl" Bud gulped. "Who'd dare try that?"
"I don't know," Tom muttered tensely. "But if those three missiles meet, our
whole project will be wrecked 1"
"Better tape all readings!" Mr. Swift advised.
"Right, Dad!"
Admiral Walter had paled slightly under his deep tan. In stunned silence, the
Navy officers and scientists watched as Tom's lean hands manipulated two
controls.
"What are those for?" Bud asked.
"One's to speed up our recovery missile," Tom explained. "Looks like a slim
hope, though, from the way that third blip is homing on target. This other control
has just caused every instrument on this ship, and all the others in the task force,
to make permanent records on magnetic tape of all their readings.
"If a collision occurs and the probe missile falls into the sea," Tom went on,