Into the Abyss (Tom Swift, Young Inventor) (11 page)

These creatures lived, it seemed, not on oxygen like most life we know of, but by breathing in sulfur dioxide instead.

The mound of rubble I was looking for now came into clear, well-lit view. I wanted to circle the entire area in the submersible to get the view from the far side of the mound—but I was now at the very end of the cables reach and could go no farther.

I tried circling the mound in the other direction. If this didn’t work, I had no idea what I was going to try next.

I could, I suppose, power the prototype to the northwest—the direction my dad had said they were going next. The
Nestor
would have to steam in the same direction along with me, at the same speed, so as not to snap the cable. It would be a delicate maneuver, to say the least—especially if the storm was churning up big waves.

I saw nothing in or near the mound. No light or movement at all. No signs of life.

If the
Verne-1
was here, it was completely buried and all was lost.

I tried my sonar, playing it off the side of the mound.

Nothing.

Then I tried my high-tech sensors, a last resort before I gave up on this spot and moved on. The sensors were made to detect the chemical signature of the artificial alloys Swift Enterprises had used to make the titanium shell of the
Verne-1
harder and more pressure-resistant.

The sensor blipped once, twice, three times—then started going crazy.

Eureka!
I’d found the
Jules Verne-1!

But where
was
it?

Just then, the sea bottom started to shake and rumble. “Dust” flew up from the ocean floor, and part of the debris mound slid downward, tumbling off the edge of a rock ledge I hadn’t noticed before and revealing the faint glow of some large, bioluminescent creature.

Wait … no … that wasn’t bioluminescence. It was … it was a porthole!

It was the bow of the submersible!

That meant the
Jules Verne-1
still had power left—which was great news, because that also meant its hull hadn’t been punctured, and its resistance to the incredible pressure at these depths was still intact.

But that didn’t answer the most important question:

Was its crew still alive?

9
 
 
Buried Alive?

I had found the
Verne-1
. Now came the really hard part of my mission—somehow, I had to get it back up to the surface in one piece.

The submersible appeared to be almost totally buried by the rubble from the undersea avalanche. Its rear portion—the twenty or so feet that was invisible to me, buried under the rock and sand—had to be damaged, if not totally crushed. And that included the ship’s communications, air lock, and propulsion system.

Titanium is one of the hardest, strongest substances on Earth, and we’d made it even stronger by combining it with those patented alloys, designed especially for undersea pressures, that my special sensors had detected.

But nothing could have held up to the force of that much rock, multiplied by the sheer depth of the ocean down here on the abyssal plain.

Only the front portion of the
Verne-1
, containing its crew quarters, appeared to be intact. I guessed that my dad had ordered the lights turned on, at the risk of using up the ship’s remaining power, in the hope that someone would find them before it was too late.

Well, here I was. I’d found them, all right. But I couldn’t get close enough to see through their porthole and determine whether they were still alive. For all I knew, their oxygen might have run out already.

No … can’t think like that,
I told myself.
They just have to be alive.

The
Jules Verne-1
had begun its dive with enough oxygen for twelve hours of undersea exploration. More than nine hours had already passed. That meant I had less than three hours left to save her.

Assuming there were no leaks, I had every reason to think that the
Verne-1
’s crew was still breathing. But I couldn’t tell for sure. And even if I succeeded in
freeing the
Verne-1
from the rubble, how would I be able to save its crew if the ship’s propulsion system was crushed?

I couldn’t fit them on board the prototype, that was for sure—there was barely enough room for me and my diving suit.

No, there was no way they could come on board with me, even if I could somehow dock our two craft together and make the connection air tight.

The only way to do it was to transfer the steel cable from the prototype to the
Verne-1
, so it could be hauled up by the
Nestor
’s powerful winch. Once that was done, I could return to the surface inside the prototype under my own power.

However, to do that I would first have to free the
Jules Verne-1
from the volcanic boulders that were piled on top of it. Even wearing my diving suit, it would be impossible to accomplish that by hand.

If you asked me up on the surface how I would tackle freeing a submersible from a mountain of rubble, sand, and minivan-size boulders, I would say, “that’s easy—you just rig some explosives to a water-proof fuse, set them off, and away you go.”

Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought to pack any
explosives aboard the prototype. No fuses, either. Stupid of me, and it was too late now to go back up to the surface to get them.

Then it came to me—I had two air tanks. Each was a canister of pressurized oxygen, together with helium and other inert gases to keep the nitrogen level low. In other words, compressed air, high in oxygen content—a perfect explosive.

Ah, but how to set it off?

“
Q.U.I.P
,” I asked, “is there anything on board that can ignite even in water?”

“You might try the underwater blowtorch attached to the air-lock hatch.”

“Of course!” I gasped. The blowtorch had been included in the ship’s inventory in case emergency repairs were needed.

“What about a fuse?” I said. “I’ll have to fashion one that will burn underwater. Preferably manganese terfidium sulfate. Any of that on board, Q.U.I.P.?”

“You might use some strips from the lining of the serial ballast levelizer. It should be soft enough to fashion into a long, thin string that will stay lit underwater.”

The part of my ship he was referring to was critical
to keeping the
Verne-o
upright underwater. Without it, the prototype might end up upside down or on its side.

But what other choice did I have?

I went to work. First I steered the prototype far enough away from the
Verne-1
to be out of range of any explosion I set off.

Then I got busy, stripping a long enough piece of the terfidium padding to make a fuse-like strip about six feet long. I hoped it would burn slowly enough to give me time to get out of range before the air tank blew.

Finally, my improvised explosive device was ready for action. It was time to venture out there, into the pitch-blackness of the deep-ocean floor.

One more thing before I left. It was time to make contact with the
Nestor
and let them know what I was up to. I fired up the power to full strength, making real-time communication possible.

“Hello up there!” I said as the monitor blinked to life. “Anybody home?”

The picture was full of static that came and went, but I could still make out Yo and Bud. The captain was no longer with them, and I could barely hear their responses.

Tom! … storm … antenna … bad waves … going on down there?”

From what they were saying, I figured the storm had worsened and was affecting the ships antennae. They had already been damaged once, by the big wave that had knocked me off the deck.

“I’ve found the
Verne-1
!” I told them. “She’s intact, and they have power, but she’s partially buried. I’m going to try and free her.”

“… did you say?” Bud asked. “… they alive?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m going in now for a closer look.”

“Play … cable?” Yo was saying.

“I’m going to need all the slack you can give me,” I told her. “I’m going to remove the cable from the prototype and attach it to the
Verne-1
. Then I’ll contact you to haul them up.”

“… about
you
?” Bud asked.

The static was getting worse. I could barely make them out now, let alone understand what they were saying. I also had to wonder if
they
could make out
my
words.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ll bring the prototype up on its own power.”

At least, I
hoped
so.

“Tell Mom and Sandy not to worry,” I said.

Of course I knew that was a stupid thing to say, but I wanted them to know I had confidence in our chances—even if I really didn’t.

It made no difference what I said, anyway, because there was now so much static on the line that I was sure they couldn’t hear a word of it.

I gave up and flicked off the monitor.

I picked up my improvised explosive device. I would be sacrificing one and a half hours worth of my precious air supply by blowing it up. That would leave me with only the one and a half hours in my other tank and whatever was left of the
Verne-0
’s air supply.

The question, though, was not whether I could afford to lose it. The question was, could I afford not to?

“Tom,” Q.U.I.P. said, “you’ll have to take me apart again, so you can use your watch as the detonator. That, alas, will be a true loss to you, if you should need my advice afterward.”

“I can put you back together again,” I told him.

“I hope so—for both our sakes.”

He was right about that. “Let’s do it,” I said.

I rigged the oxygen tank to the timer and fastened it to the fuse. At the other end—my end—I attached my wristwatch, stripped of Q.U.I.P’s chip, which I left on the control console. Later on, I would try to revive him by connecting him with the prototypes master server.

I had to attach the cable to the top of the ship, then, hopefully, the force of the explosion would clear away the rubble, freeing the trapped back end of the
Jules Verne-1
. Then I would come back to the prototype and contact the Nestor, telling them to haul the
Verne-1
back up to the surface.

All fine,
in theory
, at least.

But I was now about to leave the safety of the prototype and venture out into open water, with no spare tank of air, and with nothing to protect me but my untested diving suit.

I had worked on it and worked on it. Every adjustment I could think of had been made. It was time to try it out under real-world conditions.

It should work like a charm
, I said to myself.
In theory.

Ah, yes—famous last words.

I readied the
Jules Verne-0
for my departure, putting
all its systems in sleep mode to conserve what was left of its power supply.

I hit the air-lock button, and the hatch quickly rose out of sight. I stepped inside the cramped air lock, hit the button on the inside, and the hatch closed again.

Then I hit the green button on the wall above me, and water started flooding the compartment. When it was full, the outer hatch rose, and I stepped out into open water—and total darkness.