has to do with that big storm that’s sprung up over the Norwegian Sea," Tom continued, as he made a final check of his diversuit equipment. "It made for problems with the rescue when the Centurion first foundered, and it’s gotten much worse. It was too dangerous to send seacraft into the area to do a sonar scan from the surface. They finally went in with one of those drone mini-subs."
Alix commented with pride, "My country is world’s-best in their manufacture."
"Well, what the drone found was a lot of nothing. They studied the currents, looked for oil residue, extended the search area wider and wider― "
"And still nothing," Bud finished for him. "So Dan’s question stands. Just how do you lose a supertanker?"
Tom reply was grim-faced. "You don’t . Which is not to say you can’t steal one!"
CHAPTER 7
TRACKERS OF THE DEEP
THERE was a moment of disbelieving silence. "That sounds more like something Ham would come up with," joked George Braun. "Are you really thinking that some evil genius could make off with a waterlogged ship blocks long and as deep as a sports stadium?"
"The Omaha kid lacks imagination," snorted Teller. "There must be a hundred ways to pull it off. Or at least one or two."
The young inventor put a stop to the banter. "Let’s not deal with it right now, fellows. We’ve got to hit the water before time and tide erases our trail completely."
The six hydronauts exited through the subsurface sealock into cold blue water. The Sea Charger had "let anchor"—the highest -tech anchor possible, Tom’s gravitex device—in Alands Bay north of Stockholm, Sweden, where the Baltic Sea joined hands with the Gulf of Bothnia. The Shoptonian had reasoned that "water X" could have been carried southward along the eastern coast and around the southern cape to the SMB.
The possibility faded instantly. "Not a trace on the aquatometers," Tom reported, scanning transmitted readouts from all six units on his master output screen. "But let’s fan out and head north for a while."
The hydronauts spread over the space of a mile or so, each aquatometer acting as a separate "sensor" for Tom’s unit—distant eyes. But after forty minutes, Tom called the others back in by sonophone.
"Nowhere fast, Skipper," Bud commented.
"I know, pal," replied the young inventor. "Rather than keep on northward, let’s jet south around the cape and head west. The current may have come from the other direction."
"Someone’s getting hungry for results," Ham Teller remarked Brooklynishly.
Retorted Alix Swedishly, "Who can blame?"
The ion-drive diverjets affixed to the backs of their suits allowed the team to zoom through the depths at torpedo speed, their depths maintained by electronic buoyancy-control units inside the stanchion that supported the jet.
"Slide-press the third circle from the end of your arm gauntlet," Tom directed them. "We’ll let the localculators guide us."
"The name rings a bell, Tom," muttered Dan Walde. "But I’m not sure Mr. Cox—Zimby—really explained it."
Bud uttered a sonophonic chuckle. "Genius boy likes to slip in new inventions on the sly. Gives him a chance to show off."
"Never!" laughed Tom. "Dan, it’s a computerized guidance device that not only automatically steers you around obstructions, but gives a precise three-dimensional reading as to your location."
"Inertial guidance?" asked George. "In other words, a gyroscope?"
"I really think Tom knows what ‘inertial guidance’ means, Brauny," Teller reproved teasingly.
"Now stop fighting, boys, or back you go! But George is right, in a way. The ‘Loki’ makes us of a property of subatomic particles called spin . It’s not the sort of mechanical spinning used in gyroscopes, but when virtual particles are exchanged in― "
"Perhaps that is enough of an answer," interrupted Alix. "But pardon me. There is some justice in the reputation we Swedes have for dourness and brusqueness."
"And the heavy drinking?" Ham Teller
Alix commented with pride, "My country is world’s-best in their manufacture."
"Well, what the drone found was a lot of nothing. They studied the currents, looked for oil residue, extended the search area wider and wider― "
"And still nothing," Bud finished for him. "So Dan’s question stands. Just how do you lose a supertanker?"
Tom reply was grim-faced. "You don’t . Which is not to say you can’t steal one!"
CHAPTER 7
TRACKERS OF THE DEEP
THERE was a moment of disbelieving silence. "That sounds more like something Ham would come up with," joked George Braun. "Are you really thinking that some evil genius could make off with a waterlogged ship blocks long and as deep as a sports stadium?"
"The Omaha kid lacks imagination," snorted Teller. "There must be a hundred ways to pull it off. Or at least one or two."
The young inventor put a stop to the banter. "Let’s not deal with it right now, fellows. We’ve got to hit the water before time and tide erases our trail completely."
The six hydronauts exited through the subsurface sealock into cold blue water. The Sea Charger had "let anchor"—the highest -tech anchor possible, Tom’s gravitex device—in Alands Bay north of Stockholm, Sweden, where the Baltic Sea joined hands with the Gulf of Bothnia. The Shoptonian had reasoned that "water X" could have been carried southward along the eastern coast and around the southern cape to the SMB.
The possibility faded instantly. "Not a trace on the aquatometers," Tom reported, scanning transmitted readouts from all six units on his master output screen. "But let’s fan out and head north for a while."
The hydronauts spread over the space of a mile or so, each aquatometer acting as a separate "sensor" for Tom’s unit—distant eyes. But after forty minutes, Tom called the others back in by sonophone.
"Nowhere fast, Skipper," Bud commented.
"I know, pal," replied the young inventor. "Rather than keep on northward, let’s jet south around the cape and head west. The current may have come from the other direction."
"Someone’s getting hungry for results," Ham Teller remarked Brooklynishly.
Retorted Alix Swedishly, "Who can blame?"
The ion-drive diverjets affixed to the backs of their suits allowed the team to zoom through the depths at torpedo speed, their depths maintained by electronic buoyancy-control units inside the stanchion that supported the jet.
"Slide-press the third circle from the end of your arm gauntlet," Tom directed them. "We’ll let the localculators guide us."
"The name rings a bell, Tom," muttered Dan Walde. "But I’m not sure Mr. Cox—Zimby—really explained it."
Bud uttered a sonophonic chuckle. "Genius boy likes to slip in new inventions on the sly. Gives him a chance to show off."
"Never!" laughed Tom. "Dan, it’s a computerized guidance device that not only automatically steers you around obstructions, but gives a precise three-dimensional reading as to your location."
"Inertial guidance?" asked George. "In other words, a gyroscope?"
"I really think Tom knows what ‘inertial guidance’ means, Brauny," Teller reproved teasingly.
"Now stop fighting, boys, or back you go! But George is right, in a way. The ‘Loki’ makes us of a property of subatomic particles called spin . It’s not the sort of mechanical spinning used in gyroscopes, but when virtual particles are exchanged in― "
"Perhaps that is enough of an answer," interrupted Alix. "But pardon me. There is some justice in the reputation we Swedes have for dourness and brusqueness."
"And the heavy drinking?" Ham Teller
Similar Books
