His guess proved correct when the unmistakable outline of a jetmarine loomed into view. Tom flicked on the search beam for a moment, and Bud could be seen waving through the cabin window. Then the yellow glare went off, and Bud’s jetmarine glided away to take up a scouting position ahead of the Sea Hound.
An hour went by, then another. Suddenly a flash of light stabbed through the murk from dead ahead.
“It’s a signal from Bud!” Zimby exclaimed.
Tom nodded grimly. “He’s spotted trouble-probably an enemy sub.” Silence settled over the cabin as Tom reached out to switch on the antisonar circuits.
At that same instant a red light flashed on the control panel. “The Damonscope!” Tom cried out. “We may be over the Jupiter prober!”
Cutting off the steering jets, Tom gave a brief flick on the reverse jets to halt the craft. Then he
FLASH FROM THE DEPTHS 181
turned over the controls to Zimby and began stripping down to don a hydrolung suit.
“Gallopin” guppiesl What’re you aimin’ to do?” Chow exploded.
“Go out and look for that missile,” Tom said calmly. “It’s what we came for.”
“Are you loco, boss? What about that sub Bud just spotted? Mebbe it’s Mirov’s bunch!”
Tom refused to be dissuaded. After swallowing a space-plant pill, he armed himself with an underwater flashlight.
182 THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG
“Think it’s safe to show that light, skipper?” a crewman asked uneasily.
“If the enemy spots it, I’m hoping they’ll think it’s coming from a school of lantern fish or sea anglers,” Tom explained. He picked up a three-pronged digging fork with his other hand and went out through the air lock.
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