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Updated: June 18, 2025
It was obvious that Tom's fears about the missiles colliding were well founded. The mystery blip had veered as the recovery missile speeded up. Within seconds, the three blips met on the screen and fused into a single spot of light. "The probe missile's no longer responding to control!" one of the telemetering scientists called out. Admiral Walter, grim-faced, flashed a questioning look at Tom.
The automatic developing film would record any trace of fluorescence, and a red light would signal this result to the pilot's cabin. Minutes went by as the Sea Hound nosed slowly along through the gray-green gloom, its sister craft flanking it a hundred yards on either side. They were moving only a fathom or so above the bottom. "A blip at eleven o'clock!" the sonarman called out suddenly.
And find something we can use for a trigger and a fuse." He smiled at Roger. "It might be a little crude, but it'll be fancy enough for what we want. I'm going to blast the Polaris from here back to your sweet little Space Academy!" Mason and Loring left the radar bridge while Shinny and Roger watched the white blip of the jet boat.
"A few feet are as good as a mile in space. Our blast might kick them around a little, and maybe there's a little mutual mass attraction, but we don't worry about it." He pointed to a blip that was just swimming into view, a sharp green point against the screen. "We do have to worry about that one." He selected a lever and pulled it toward him. Rip felt sudden weight against his feet.
"Maybe he can pick up Miles' blip on his radar." Tom made the necessary adjustment on the audioceiver and broadcast the call for the owner-pilot of the Good Company. Finally, after repeated tries, he heard a faint signal and recognized the voice of his unit mate Astro. "What's the matter, Astro?" asked Tom. "I can hardly hear you."
When the echo comes back to the radar set, the radar operator doesn't have to listen for it and time it because this is all done for him by the radar set and he sees the "answer" on his radarscope a kind of a round TV screen. What the radar operator sees is a bright dot, called a "blip" or a "return."
Bud gave a whoop of excitement and everyone crowded around the radarscope. Tom's steel-blue eyes checked the blip. Then he threw a switch which started an automatic plotting machine that had been prepared with the landing plan, and noted that the missile was slightly off the correct path. A new flow of information now began pulsing in as other ships' tracking radars recorded its course.
"Then recovery has failed?" "I'm afraid so, sir." The fused blip was still visible on screen as the radar dishes tracked it, moving in a way that indicated a steep downward plunge. For a moment Tom felt numb with despair. But he set his jaw firmly and turned to the admiral. "Sir, I'd like helicopters readied for take-off immediately," Tom said.
The radar-blip which told of that ship's existence changed to the vaguely vaporous glow of incandescent gas. The other blip went out. No flare of a bomb. Nothing. It went out. So the last Mekinese ship was gone in overdrive. It was safe! It could not possibly be overtaken or attacked. It had seen the Horus's missiles following an unpredictable course, which was duly recorded.
"'Bout dat time Sis Tempy, she lipt up in de a'r, an' sing out dat she done gone an tromple on de Ole Boy, an' she kep' on lippin' up an' slingin' out 'er han's twel bimeby blip! she tuck Sis Becky in de mouf, an' den Sis Becky riz an' fetch a grab at Sis Tempy, an' I 'clar' ter grashus ef didn't 'pear ter me like she got a poun' er wool. Atter dat de revivin' sorter het up like.
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