Tom’s maneuver had carried them a good hundred yards off the missile’s course. Now he yanked a lever, pulling the cadmium rods still farther from the atomic pile, in order to increase power and jet-blast their sub still farther out of range.
But suddenly the men at the scope blanched. “The missile’s turning too!”
Hank cried. “It’s homing in on us!”
Unlike most Swift craft used on scientific ex-is?
138 THE VISITOR FROM PLANET X
peditions, the cargo sub’s hull had not been coated with Tomasite. This would have insulated it from all magnetic effects or any form of pulse detection.
Tom had chosen the Swiftsure partly for this very reason, so that the Brungarian rebels could easily pick up its trail after leaving Fearing.
How ironic if his choice should prove fatal! As the thought flashed through Tom’s brain, the missile came streaking into view through the sub’s transparent nose.
By this time, Tom had flipped up the Swiftsure’s diving planes. The craft plummeted deeper into the ocean depths.
“Brand my whale blubber, she’s turnin’ again!” Chow gulped. The missile’s arc, as it veered around to follow, painted a streak of light on the sonarscope.
Anxious moments raced by while Tom steered their craft in a deadly game of tag with the sub-killer. Gradually the missile appeared to be losing momentum.
“It’s slowing down, all right!” Arv called out.
In a few minutes the missile had lost so much way that Tom was easily able to outdistance it. The crew crowded to the scope, heaving sighs of relief. The missile, its velocity spent, sank harmlessly toward the bottom.