Tom Swift and His Aquatomic Tracker by Victor Appleton II Page A

challenged.
    "A myth. Yet true."
    They passed over the sad remains of the dark, ruined SubMoBahn—passed over them in silence. Crossing the strait called Skagerrak that divided Swede from Dane, the hydronauts entered the North Sea. Once again the six fanned out wide. No longer able to see one another in the tranquil dimness, only their sonophone communicators testified to their continued existence.
    "We’re sure making great time," Bud remarked. "And I’m not even thirsty or tired."
    "Those ‘aquadapticum’ pills Doc Simpson came up with really do the trick," Tom agreed. "He thinks divers could keep going for more than 24 hours underwater, given sufficient oxygen and a source of nutrition."
    "I didn’t think we’d be out so long on the first trek," said Dan Walde doubtfully from somewhere far away.
    "We won’t, Dan. A few more hours out, then back to the Charger ."
    "Like I said— hungry ," noted Teller.
    Gunning their jets, the armada of fish-men speared through the water at multi-fish velocity—Shark Five. Minutes and miles sped by. Tom watched raptly the greenish panorama of sea life all around him as his exterior sound monitor filled the dome of his facemask with crackling noise from the green-blue world. Now and then he pressed a spot on his sleeve-gauntlet and slid his fingers along, adjusting the buoyancy device and descending in a swoop. He swept the lower depths with a tiny, penetrating lamp attached to his left forearm, his aqualamp. Flashing across the electronic beam, coldwater fish swarmed through the jungles of seaweed and underwater vegetation. The bottom, glimpsed dimly below, was carpeted with sea anemones, urchins, finger sponges, and mollusks.
    "Watch yourself, genius boy—everybody!" came Bud Barclay’s warning voice. "I just spotted a Portuguese man-of-war."
    "Those tentacles can sting a guy pretty bad," Dan commented. To which Alix added:
    "Very much, but I have survived it."
    As they cruised westward above the sloping shelf of the North Sea, Tom felt himself becoming increasingly discouraged and impatient. Good night, I thought we’d trip over at least a smidge of ‘water X’ by now , he thought. And even as the echo of the thought faded came George Braun’s voice:
    "Got it, Tom! Pings on my detector!"
    The young inventor checked the master readout with growing excitement. "At last! And there!—Alix’s aquatometer is starting to pick it up too!"
    "So where too?" sonophoned Bud.
    "George and Alix are both north of the rest of us," Tom answered. "Let’s veer a little northward. I’ll send the heading to your Loki’s."
    The aquatometer readings, now coming from all six trackers, revealed that the traces angled downward with the current that was carrying it from its unknown source. The hydronauts began a mass descent to a depth of 190 fathoms. When Ham Teller noted the depth, Alix added a verbal footnote. "You might wish to know, sea chums, that ‘ fathom ’ comes from an old Norse word, ‘ fathm’r ,’ the measure of the outstretched arm."
    This brought no comment from the others. But moments later Bud suddenly yelped out: "Jetz! Something’s down there—big!"
    "Can you tell what it is?" Tom sonophoned.
    "Looks like—a ship!"
    Tom gulped. Could it be? By some bizarre coincidence had the sea searchers run across the lost supertanker, the Centurion ?
    "Everyone! Head toward Bud!"
     
CHAPTER 8
MYSTERY MERMEN
    THE sophisticated sonarscope system built into each diversuit allowed the five to converge rapidly on the sixth, Bud. "Get a load of that !" he exclaimed, circling slowly.
    "I don’t see anything, pal," Tom declared.
    "Huh? Oh, right—I’m using the ‘for my eyes only’ lamp setting." Bud altered the aqualamp’s frequency mix, so that its luminance wouldn’t be restricted to the view through the youth’s own treated mask-visor. "There!" All eyes followed the beam downward.
    " Parakeets !" squawked Dan Walde.
    "Yeah, that’s a ship. Sure is." Ham Teller’s