Tom repeated the information to his father. Both Swifts were silent for a moment, exchanging dejected looks. Then Mr. Swift remarked evenly: “The game’s never lost till it’s over, son.”
“You’re right, Dad!” Tom exclaimed. Turning back to the telephone, he said, “Admiral, I’m not quitting. We’ll take off as soon as I can get back to the base!”
With a hasty good-by to his father, and farewells to his mother, Sandy, and Phyl by phone,
178
FLASH FROM THE DEPTHS 177
Tom dashed out of the building. He sped to Arv Hanson’s workshop, and the new hydrolung suits were loaded onto a small pickup truck and taken to the airfield. While flying back to Fearing Island in a helijet, Tom received a radio flash from his father.
“Another message from Bud. He says the object dug up by the Brungarians was not the missile. It appeared to be the metal section of a ship’s prow, from some hulk buried in the silt!”
Tom was jubilant. “Terrific news, Dadl Our luck may be turning!”
At the rocket base Tom detailed crews for the three undersea craft which were to take off on the expedition. Arv Hanson would captain one seacopter, Mel Flagler the jetmarine, while Zimby Cox, Chow, and four crewmen would accompany Tom in the Sea Hound.
Because of their sonar-blinding systems, Tom realized there was a chance of the ships losing contact with one another-especially if their analyzer sonars developed trouble. He therefore plotted their course to the South Atlantic carefully, and issued orders for the antidetection circuits to be switched off every half-hour for a position check.
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