Tom Swift and His Diving Seacopter (16 page)

A look downward with the camera showed that the prisoners in the diving bell were in bad shape; Wickliffe appeared to have blacked out, and Taclos was bending over him. "We’d better get the bell up to the surface pronto," Tom decided. With a skillful maneuver he disentangled the cables from the seacopter, then sent the
Arrow
downward, positioning her beneath the bell but a little to one side.

"Planning to lift them?" asked Bud.

Tom nodded. "We’ll use the blades at positive pitch to give us some extra lift, but we must be careful to keep the bell above the solid hull, or it’ll get sucked into the prop-well." His plan worked to perfection, and soon the
Ocean Arrow,
with the diving bell sitting precariously on top, was floating low in the waves.

Tom cautiously raised the Compartment A hatch and shouted across the hundred-foot gap between the seacopter and Taclos’s battered boat.
"Ahoy there! Any fight left in you guys?"

After a long silence, Raca staggered out onto the deck of the boat. "Senhor, we surrender! I have thrown the guns overboard! We demand to be taken to dry land immediately." He added plaintively, "Please!"

While Bud contacted the
Sky Queen,
which was then flying about 200 miles nearer to Madeira, Tom and the others opened the hatch to the diving bell and brought Dr. Wickliffe and Professor Taclos out into the cool fresh air. They were both badly bruised by their rough journey, but otherwise in acceptable condition. Wickliffe revived quickly.

"Tom," he whispered weakly, "I am humbled by your kind actions. Please believe that I never meant for any of this to occur."

"Stow it!" responded Tom harshly. "Even if you didn’t personally endanger our lives—though your employees sure did!—you’re obviously responsible for stealing the space dictionary files and interfering with our contact with the space beings. Because of you, mankind almost lost an incredible wealth of knowledge."

Wickliffe took in a deep, mournful breath. "I was distrustful, egotistical. I wanted it to be
my
name in the history books, not another line in the Swift family biography." He went on to explain how he had used a device hidden in his briefcase to remotely activate the laptop by accessing its internal modem. He then fed in the routine that performed his stealthy and destructive acts, receiving the copied files in a similar manner. "And you’re quite correct, Tom. When I discovered the immense significance of what I had stolen, I used my own equipment in Thessaly to send and receive space messages." Wickliffe admitted having been the source of the phantom phone calls to the Mayor and the editor of the
Bulletin
.

Tom asked, "Why did you have the space scientists divert their missile to this particular location, anyway?"

"I didn’t," replied Wickliffe. "I had asked them to land it on some acreage I own near Thessaly, and supplied the coordinates according to their system. Their response came as a shock. They said they would continue the course of the rocket to these coordinates in the Atlantic. When I asked them to amplify upon their decision, they sent a series of symbols that I could not interpret. In fact—" He fumbled in a pocket and withdrew some crumpled notes, which he handed to Tom. "Have you seen anything like this?"

The young inventor had to smile inwardly. The adversaries had now become two scientists working together on a fascinating project! "It’s unfamiliar. There’s something about ‘first’ or ‘before’—perhaps ‘long ago’." An intriguing possibility occurred to Tom. Perhaps his space friends had directed the craft to the site of an earlier contact with the human race, contact with the civilization whose ruins now lay far beneath the waters of the Atlantic!

"Somehow or other they must have suspected that my concerns and instructions were false," mused Wickliffe. "Otherwise it’s quite puzzling, their procedure of sending the vehicle first to Shopton, then abruptly redirecting it. Clearly they were unsure whether my messages could be trusted, and wished to give you the opportunity to observe and track the craft’s trajectory. No doubt they came to suspect that their incoming signals and your outgoing ones were being blocked." Tom realized with pleasure that some portion of the warning messages from Enterprises must have reached the space beings after all—enough to kindle their suspicions and prompt a clever, insightful strategy in response.

"In any event, we’ll have to retrieve the rocket in order to learn any more," said Tom. "And that means the toughest part of this project still lies ahead!"

WHEN THE Flying Lab arrived, Mr. Swift had the stratoship hover fifty feet above the ocean while the shaken occupants of the boat were hauled aboard by a Jacob’s-Ladder arrangement. Raca was cooperative, Kelton Price almost distraught. Only Ferd Acton attempted to retain some semblance of dignity, casting a supercilious look across to Tom and Munson Wickliffe.

Though it appeared that Professor Taclos was innocent of any deep involvement in the shadier aspects of the matter, he had suffered physically and asked to be taken to a hospital in Funchal.

"That leaves you, Munson," said Damon Swift over a cellphone connection between the
Queen
and the seacopter, where Tom and Wickliffe stood on the hull
.

"Yes, Damon, that leaves me, indeed. And at this point allow me to engage in a bit of an experiment."

"What do you mean?" asked Tom’s father.

"I have behaved abominably. You and your son have no reason to forgive me; certainly no reason to trust me. Yet I feel moved to ask you, nevertheless, for a great privilege. The events about to unfold here have a degree of importance in the history of science that is inconceivably immense. Rope and hawg-tie me, as your cook would put it, if you must. But I am asking you—begging you—to allow me to witness your opening of the extraterrestrial capsule."

A short silence followed as Tom and his father thought about Wickliffe’s extraordinary request. There seemed to be no doubt but that Wickliffe was humbled and thoroughly chastened. Badly shaken by the experience of being trapped beneath the sea, and now completely defeated by the Swifts, he looked like a man who had learned a bitter lesson. Tom took the cellphone and stepped away from Wickliffe, standing on the other side of the hull as he conferred with his father in hushed tones. Then he returned, his face unreadable, and handed the receiver to Wickliffe.

"As a scientist, you’ve done fine work," said Mr. Swift. "It has brought you money and success. But don’t forget that science also involves a high responsibility to mankind. There can be no excuse for a man of your rank stooping to such disgraceful behavior!"

"Everything you’ve said is true," Wickliffe mumbled in abject tones.

"But as a scientist I know, as do you, that advancement comes by way of error," Damon Swift continued. "I’m willing to believe that you now realize your error, Munson. And it may also be true that by initiating a change the course of the rocket, you possibly saved Shopton from some unanticipated accident. So, very well, you may stay aboard and observe what we find. We’ll set aside the question of your recent conduct."

"Old friend, I am quite overwhelmed," responded the scientist.

Tom took the receiver and began to discuss plans for salvaging the rocket. "If it’s anything like the meteor-missile that came down, the rocket hull must be extremely light in weight—plenty strong, too. But whatever it’s made of seems to be nonmagnetic."

"Which scotches the idea of using the mega-mag to lift it," commented Mr. Swift musingly. The mega-mag was the current version of the old Swift giant-magnet lifting device. "Fortunately your old man is equal to the challenge!"

"Never doubted it!" laughed Tom, feeling a sense of relief. His father had never failed yet in a crisis. "What have you come up with?"

"While you were involved with your outpost in space, I began working on a tremendously powerful vacuum lifter," replied the older inventor. "A suction grapple, in other words. I had it packed away in the flying hangar when we loaded the seacopter section aboard. I think it will raise the rocket to the surface despite the pressure at its present level."

Tom was thrilled by this news, and curious as well. "What’s your machine like, Dad?" he queried. "Do you work it by remote control?"

"No." Mr. Swift explained that though powerful, the device was reasonably small and compact. "My idea is to fasten it to the mega-magnet disk, and lower it from the
Sky Queen,"
he went on. "Then I can operate it through the same power cables used for the magnet."

"Wonderful!" Tom cried happily. "I’ll wait below and guide it into place." First, though, Tom levitated the seacopter on its cushion of air while the Flying Lab descended lower on its jet lifters. With the
Queen’s
"belly hatch" just a few feet above the flat portion of the seacopter’s hull, it was easy to transfer Munson Wickliffe, Taclos, Chow, and Ham Teller and George Braun, to the waiting skyship. Then the diving bell was cautiously deposited into its cradle on Taclos’s research vessel, which one of the
Sky Queen’
s crew members would guide back to Madeiran waters.

With Bud at his side, Tom sent the
Ocean Arrow
diving deep into the Atlantic, back to the location of the planet-life rocket, the Flying Lab following from above.

"Doesn’t seem to have suffered any from those explosions," Bud remarked.

"Nothing seems able to penetrate that stuff," said Tom admiringly. "I’m just hoping we’ll be able to open it up when we get it topside!"

Hank Sterling was holding the
Sky Queen
in a steady position above the rocket. As soon as the vacuum lifter was made ready and installed on the magnet’s disk, which was five feet across, an extensible crane swung it out of the flying hangar through the broad aerial hatch. At Mr. Swift’s direction a powerful motor was switched on and the cables were payed out from the winch, which was controlled by Arv Hanson. It took fifteen tense minutes for the magnet and suction grappler to be lowered through the deep waters.

"Here it comes!" yelled Bud as the hybrid device came within view of the undersea searchlight. "Say, that new gadget ought to be called the Swift Octopus. Look at those segmented tubes—tentacles!"

On one side of each of the spreading tubes was a series of openings which would press against the surface of the rocket and adhere tightly as the vacuum pumps began to take hold.

"Are we on target?" Hank asked by sonophone relay.

"Not quite," Tom replied. "You’ve veered off to the north a little. Start inching forward and I’ll give you a mark." Under Tom’s coaching the pilot jockeyed the vacuum lifter disk into position above the space vessel’s hull. Then Hanson lowered away.

"Direct hit!" the young inventor reported excitedly.

On board the
Sky Queen
Mr. Swift pressed a switch. Instantly powerful suction motors of unique design were thrown into action. He informed Tom that the sensor instruments indicated a firm seal against the rocket.

"Hoist away!" Tom called over the mike.

The cables began to reel in, becoming taut, and a shout of excitement went up from the pair in the seacopter. With a sudden tilt the rocket had pulled free of the sea floor and was beginning to rise!

"She’s lifting!" Bud yelled.

Up, up through the dark water rose the rocket, dangling on the end of the cables. Tom sent the
Ocean Arrow
scooting up after it, keeping the rocket pinned in the twin aqualamp beams at all times. From darkness, through grayness, they ascended into the familiar realm of greenish-blue water.

Suddenly a worried cry from Mr. Swift came over the loudspeaker, "We’re losing suction!" On board the
Queen
he was watching the vacuum gauge with a tense frown. The needle was flickering downward!

Frenzied activity erupted on the Flying Lab as Mr. Swift barked orders. With everyone aboard helping, two more steel hoisting cables were made ready and run through pulleys in the aerial hangar. These were let down in loops. Then, by careful maneuvering, the loops were passed around the nose and tail of the suspended rocket under Tom’s direction. The lifting resumed, and in a matter of minutes the strange capsule from outer space had been raised halfway into the afternoon sun.

But almost at once a new crisis developed. A loud fizzing, accompanied by showers of white-hot sparks and spurts of hissing steam, arose at the two places where the cables gripped the missile.

Tom scooped up the mike. "Dad! The cables are burning clear through the rocket!" he shouted. "The metals have set up a reaction!"

There was no time to remedy the situation. Before the startled eyes of the mariners, the rocket hull came apart at nose and tail! Out slid the transparent center section which Tom had glimpsed in such tantalizing fashion through the Eye-Spy camera. For a fleeting moment the entire contents of this section were bared to view. A weird array of queer-shaped reddish plants was revealed. Then the huge transparent capsule plummeted downward toward the ocean bottom!

"We’ve lost it!" yelled Bud frantically. "Our prize is gone!"

"Not yet!"
Tom said determinedly.

SHOVING THE control wheel forward, Tom yanked the throttle wide open and sent the seacopter into a steep dive. The planet garden was lost to sight now in the darkness below. Desperate to find it, Tom swiveled the searchlights about, their cold gleam stabbing through the murky water.

"There it is!" Tom cried.

Keeping the rocket section in view, the youths continued their dizzy descent. Moments later the
Arrow
had almost reached the ocean floor. With a gasp of horror, Bud grabbed Tom by the arm and pointed through the cabin window.

"One of the depth charges!" Evidently one of the devilish devices had failed to explode as planned and had ended up drifting near the bottom. Now its presence menaced both the space rocket and the seacopter!

With an effort, Tom shook off the rush of panic that was clouding his brain. "We aren’t trapped yet!" he said. "If we can just get the capsule away from the bomb—!"