Into the Abyss (Tom Swift, Young Inventor) (12 page)

I flicked the switch on my diving helmet, and my headlight flashed on—it lit a cone of terrain about six feet ahead of me and three feet wide. Everything else was out of my view.

I checked my air supply. I had exactly one and a half hours to accomplish everything I needed to do. After that the only air I had would be the supply inside the prototype.

I swallowed hard and stepped forward. My titanium boots sank deep into the black sludge on the sea bottom, sending up clouds of gray goo that blurred what little vision I had.

First, I placed most of what I was carrying with me—the extra oxygen tank, the detonator, the underwater
blowtorch, and the fuse with my watch attached—on the metal ledge on the prototype’s side.

I would have to come back for it all once I’d fastened the cable to the
Verne-1
, because there was no way I could carry everything over there in one trip, and the cable besides.

I climbed to the prow of the
Verne-0
and detached the steel cable. Bud and Yo had obviously understood at least some of my instructions—they’d played the cable out loose enough so that I could drag it along with me across the sea bottom to the
Verne-1
.

It was heavy, but down here, so was
everything
. I’d just have to go slowly, catching my breath every few steps along the way.

I knew the general direction of the
Verne-1
, but I could not see it now. Nor could I swim straight to it. My suit, covered with diving weights, was much too heavy.

I had to watch my step, too. Scattered amid the gooey slime were sharp-edged lava rocks. That meant there was a deep ocean vent or fissure nearby.

I’d already known that—it was the reason the
Verne-1
had chosen this location to place its first
seismic sensor—but that didn’t change the fact that this was a dangerous neighborhood.

The current was surprisingly strong, and it kept pushing the upper half of my body to the left, while my heavier lower half, weights and boots and all, stayed in place. It was a weird feeling, moving kind of like a crab across the ocean floor.

Time moved so slowly, it began to drive me up the wall. Surely, my air supply would run out before I could accomplish my mission and get safely back inside the prototype.

It was probably just my imagination, but it felt like my hour and a half was almost up. I checked my air supply again—only five minutes worth was gone.
Whew
.

At the edge of the cone of light projected by the lamp on my helmet, the mound of volcanic rubble came into view. It rose at a sharp angle—indicating that part of the
Verne-1
was buried underneath it.

Just to make sure, I maneuvered my way around the edge of the mound, until I saw the glow of light from the ships porthole.

I was about to step toward it, when the sea floor beneath my feet gave way. I had disturbed some
small, loose rocks at the edge of the mound, and they had tumbled—where?

I looked forward and down, and saw that I was standing on the edge of an even deeper trench in the sea bottom. If I took one more step, I’d sink down into the blackness for—who knew—maybe thousands of feet!

Verne-1
was trapped on a rocky ledge overlooking that trench. If I blew her stern free of the rubble and boulders, she might snap the cable, topple into it, and be lost forever.

On the other hand, if I didn’t, the crew, including my dad, would all die down here. Doing nothing was not an option.

I had to get a quick look inside that porthole! How else would I ever know if my dad and the others were still alive?

In order to get there, though, I’d have to climb partway up the rubble pile, then inch forward along the top of the submersible and peek down through the porthole from above.

More time wasted—but again, what choice did I have?

I maneuvered myself slowly up the mound, taking
great care not to get stuck on anything sharp—anything that might somehow puncture my suits impermeable seal and get me killed instantly.

I reached the porthole and dangled my helmeted head down so I could see inside ….

10
 
 
Undersea Reunion

And there was my dad, waving to me!

You can’t imagine how happy it made me to see that goofy grin on his face. Behind him, the two scientists he’d taken with him were waving too. They sure looked thrilled to see me, I’ll tell you.

My dad made the talk motion with his hand, and I understood he wanted to talk to me. I made the phone sign, holding my hand to my ear with the thumb and pinky stuck out. He shook his head no, and pointed to the ship’s communications console.

I understood what he meant—their radio communications were out. I could believe it. The antenna had been mounted on the stern of the ship. It must have been crushed under the weight of the avalanche.

I motioned for him to wait, then fished inside my suit’s external storage compartment, and came out with a handy-dandy little item I’d been smart enough to bring along with me—a portable wireless antenna.

I fastened it to the hull of the
Verne-1
, rebooted my suit’s communication device, directing it through the wireless router, and bingo! Dad and I were exchanging hellos.

So far, so good
, I thought.

The words “too easy” never crossed my mind.

“Everybody in there okay?” I asked him.

“Just a few cuts and bruises,” he said. “Boy, are we glad to see you! How did you get down here?”

I told him about flying the prototype out to the
Nestor
. I left out the part about Mom and Sandy.

“Good thinking, son,” he said. “But I hope you’ve got a plan. We haven’t got much power left, and our air supply is running low. We’ve only got about two and a half hours left.”

“I detached the
Nestor
’s steel cable from the
Verne-0
, and I’m going to connect it to
Verne-1
,” l explained. “Then I’ll follow you guys up to the surface.”

“Sounds good. But can the cable pull us free?”

Uh, no. Not without an explosion.

“I’ve got a way to free the ship, Dad,” I said. “Just give me some time.”

“I’d give it to you if we had it,” he said grimly. “Hurry, son. Every minute counts.”

Duh
. Like I didn’t know that. Sometimes he treats me like I’m five years old.

First things first—I had to attach the cable to the
Verne-1
. Trouble was, the storm on the surface must have been pushing the
Nestor
around something fierce, because the cable was quickly losing its slack.

The closer I crept to the prow of the
Verne-1
, where the eye-hole was set for attaching the hook, the less free cable I had to work with. I needed to signal the
Nestor
to sail southwest—only about thirty feet or so, but it was a crucial thirty feet.

Of course, the only way to contact the
Nestor
was by the wireless connection inside the prototype!

I had to go back there anyway to get the explosive charge. I could take the extra time to re-enter the
Verne-0
—but what would happen to the loose cable in the meantime? I might lose it altogether!

No, I couldn’t risk that ….

My eyes fell on a natural crevice at the edge of the
rock cliff. I jammed the hook into it. There—that would keep the
Nestor
from drifting any farther away.

I made my way back to the prototype, grabbed the underwater blowtorch and my improvised explosive device, and then returned to the
Verne-1
. It took about twenty minutes in all—twenty precious minutes—leaving me only about an hour for the rest of my work.

I rigged the device, jamming it under the boulders that covered the stern section of the
Verne-1
. Then I went back to the cable. I detached the hook, brought it over to the submersibles prow, and attached it properly.

There. Now everything was ready for the big bang. I laid out the fuse, as far as I could stretch it. It left me only fifty feet or so from my explosive charge—not exactly a safe distance, but there was no other way.

It was time to break the news.

“Um, Dad?”

“Yes, son? Got the cable attached?”

“Sure do.”

“Great. Are you sure the
Nestor
will be able to pull us free?”

“Uh, well, first I’ve gotta free the
Verne-1
from the rabble,” I told him.

“How on Earth are you going to do that?” he asked.

“Brace yourselves,” I said. “I’m setting off an explosive charge.”

“You’re WHAT?!”

“I said BRACE YOURSELVES!” I shouted.

Not waiting for a reply, I fired up the underwater blowtorch and held it up to the fuse until it was lit. Then I turned and started slogging away as hard as I could.

I hit the control on the console mounted on my chest—the one I’d moved off the diving suits left glove after the shark-tank test—to send the suit’s servos into overdrive. That sped up my movements, buying me ten or twenty extra feet of distance between me and the explosion.

It was a good thing, too—because the force of the blast knocked me down so hard I almost passed out. Ten or twenty feet closer, and I’m sure I would have been done for.

I got back to my feet as the shock waves died out and tried to get a sense of where I was. My searchlight
was pretty useless—the water was now as cloudy as could be—but my sense of direction led me right back to the
Verne-1
.

First I checked to see that Dad and his crew were still okay. They gave me the thumbs-up sign through the porthole, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

“Tom,” my dad said, “we’re going to have a talk about this later.”

“Sure thing,” I told him. I was so glad to see he was still alive that I didn’t care if he ripped into me later.

Stepping carefully, I made my way back along the rock ledge to the scene of the blast. The water was still murky here, but things had definitely changed. I could read
JULES VERNE-1
clearly on the stern section now.

That was good—it meant that section was no longer buried. But where was the rear propeller? Where were the little fins at the back of the sub?

There were still two big boulders where the rest of the ship should have been.

The
Verne-1
was still just as stuck as she’d been before the blast!

Frantically, I tried shoving the two boulders out of the way. They barely budged. I kept trying for a
minute or so, as my heart rate soared so high I must have come close to passing out.

This was doing no good. No good at all. I had to come up with something else to save my dad and the
Verne-1
’s crew, and fast.

But what?

You know, funny things happen when you’re fifteen thousand feet underwater. Thoughts pop into your head like oxygen bubbles. At that very moment, at the edge of total panic, an idea came into my head. A wild idea, for sure—practically insane …

But it just might work
, I thought. Besides, what other choice did I have?

“Dad?”

“Hows it look back there, Tom?”

“Better … better. I’m, um, going to have to go back to the prototype for something. I’ll be right back, okay?”

There was a second of silence before he said, “All right.”

And that was all he said.

Clearly, he’d heard the fear in my voice. He didn’t bother telling me to hurry.

I pushed all other thoughts out of my head and
headed straight back toward the prototype. I was desperate now. In thirty minutes or so, my air tank would be empty. I had used my spare tank for the explosive charge. Every second counted.

I was making my way forward along the rock ledge when I felt the ground shaking beneath me.

Ob, no
, I thought.
Not now—please, not now!

In an instant, the whole ocean floor came alive and started shaking wildly.
An aftershock!

The ground beneath me shifted violently, and I tumbled over the edge of the rock cliff, past the
Verne-1
, and down, down farther into the abyss!

11
 
 
The Monster of the Deep