"Wow!" Bud heaved a sigh of relieved tension. Then he dashed from the
compartment and up the nearest ladder for a quick look at the rocket as
it disappeared into the blue.
Tom watched the recovery missile intently on the radarscope.
"Nice going, son," said Mr. Swift quietly.
In response to his father's reassuring grip on his arm, Tom flashed him
a hasty smile. For the first time, the young inventor realized he was
beaded with perspiration and that his pulse was hammering.
"It's a case of wait and hope," Tom murmured.
[Illustration]
On every ship and plane in the task force, eyes were glued to the radar
screens. Two small blips were visible--one the Jupiter probe missile,
the other the recovery missile--moving on courses that would soon
intersect.
Just as Bud returned to the compartment, several of the watchers gave
startled gasps.
"Another blip--coming in from nine o'clock!" Admiral Walter exclaimed.
"What's that?"
Tom stared at the new blip. It was moving steadily toward the meeting
point of the first two missiles!
"It's a thief missile!" Tom cried out. "Some enemy's trying to steal our
probe data!"
"Good night!" Bud gulped. "Who'd dare try that?"
"I don't know," Tom muttered tensely. "But if those three missiles meet,
our whole project will be wrecked!"
"Better tape all readings!" Mr.
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