The Lost City of Faar

CLORAL

We were under attack.

Most people on deck scrambled for cover and I was one of them. Uncle Press and I stuck with a group of vators who fled to the building that held most of the farming equipment. That wouldn’t give much protection, but it was better than standing out in the open with bombs raining down!

As we ran more missiles pounded the deck and blasted dirt and water everywhere. Yes, water. These weren’t your everyday, ordinary cannonballs. Remember, this was Cloral. Everything here had to do with water. I soon found out that the giant guns on the battleship were actually huge water cannons that fired big, dense balls of water. But when these water missiles hit, they were every bit as destructive as a steel shell. And they could fire round after round without fear of running out of ammunition. After all, their ammunition was water, and there was an infinite supply around these parts. What made it even more frightening was that there was no sound. The guns didn’t let out a giant roar when they fired, so it was impossible to prepare for a strike. The first clue that a water missile was about to hit was a faint whistling sound, and then it hit.

About a dozen of us crowded into the equipment shed and scrambled to the windows to look out on the action.

I looked to Uncle Press and said, “Raiders? What’s the deal?”

Uncle Press didn’t know. This was a wrinkle he wasn’t prepared for.

“I have never seen them attack a habitat this large,” one vator said with more than a touch of fear. “They usually prey on small vessels.”

“What do they want?” I asked.

“Whatever we have,” came the simple answer. “And they’re not afraid to kill for it.”

Gulp. I looked out the window to see that the aquaneers were scrambling to defend the habitat. These guys weren’t just sailors, they were trained in using weapons as well. They moved fast and efficiently as they took up defensive positions facing the incoming cruiser. But the only weapons they had were the silver rifles I saw back on Magorran. They didn’t have big cannons or missile launchers or firepower of any kind that could stand up to the barrage from the raiders’ huge water guns. Their rifles seemed like, well, they seemed like water pistols compared to the mighty arsenal they faced.

“Why isn’t Grallion armed?” I asked the vator.

“I told you,” he answered. “The raiders have never been so bold. There was never a reason to be armed. Until now,” added Uncle Press soberly.

All my romantic notions about pirates were just blown away, no pun intended. To me pirates were charming rogues who drank grog and chased wenches and shivered me timbers and were basically comical characters in search of treasure. But these weren’t Disney pirates. The guys firing on us were killers. Boldkillers. They were attacking an unarmed farming habitat with over two hundred people on board. But for what? There were no riches on Grallion. What could they possibly want?

Then the barrage of missiles stopped. We took a look at the battle cruiser and saw that it had pulled to within a few hundred yards of Grallion. Its guns were still aimed at us, but they were no longer firing for the time being.

The ship looked very much like a battleship from home, though of course there were no military markings. It was a light green color that made it blend in with the green water. I counted eight water cannons in all. Four front and four back. I wondered what their next step was. Were they going to board us? That wouldn’t make sense because any advantage they had with their big guns would be lost once they set foot onboard. There were plenty of aquaneers with rifles to give them a hard time if they set foot on our deck. No, the advantage these bad guys had was from a distance.

Then, a booming, amplified voice came from the battle cruiser.

“Good morning, Grallion! I trust we have your attention.”

It was a man’s voice and he actually sounded cheery. He could have been calling to a neighbor over the backyard fence to talk about the Yankees.

“My name is Zy Roder, pilot and chief of the good shipPursuit. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

The more I listened to this guy’s booming voice, the more my stomach twisted. I looked to Uncle Press and his grim expression told me he was feeling the same way. Near us, a vator had been watching the cruiser through a spyglass. The moment we heard the voice coming from the raiders’ ship, Uncle Press approached the man and asked if he could borrow the telescope. The worker obliged and Uncle Press took a closer look at our new nemesis.

“If you have heard of me,” the voice continued, “then you know I am a fair man. I wish no harm on anyone.”

Uncle Press saw what he needed to see, then handed me the spyglass. I took it and looked out at the cruiser. The crew of the ship he calledPursuitwere all on deck. There was a mix of men and women, which meant that at least raiders weren’t sexist. They weren’t all torn up and scuzy looking the way you think of movie pirates either. No, just the opposite. These guys looked like an organized, buttoned-up crew. But the way they stared at Grallion made me think of a pack of hungry wolves, patiently waiting to strike. Their stares were blank and lacked any human emotion, except for maybe greed.

I moved the spyglass until I found the man called Zy Roder. He stood on the uppermost deck, holding something dark that I could only guess was a microphone. Like all the raiders, Zy Roder wore the same kind of lightweight clothing that everyone wore here on Grallion. He was a tall guy, with shoulder-length blond hair that blew around in the sea breeze. You might even call him handsome. He stood with his legs apart defiantly, with one hand on his hip. Pretty cocky. This was a guy who was used to getting what he wanted. I wondered what it was he wanted from us.

But the thing that struck me most about him was his eyes. Even though I was looking through a spyglass, I could see they were the same, icy blue eyes that I had grown to fear. There was no mistake.

It was Saint Dane.

He had arrived on Cloral and taken up with a band of outlaw marauders. The question now became, what was his next move? I handed the spyglass back to the vator. I didn’t want to watch anymore.

“By now you must know of the horrible disease that is spreading throughout Cloral,” he continued. “Our food is being poisoned. Why? I have no idea. But I do know that safe food will soon grow scarce.”

This was Saint Dane all right. He was doing what he did best, spreading fear.

“Our request is simple. The food on Grallion is safe… so far. You have so much, and we so little. These are my terms. Load ten of your largest transfer barges with grain, fruit, and vegetables. Send each barge out to us with a single aquaneer. We will take the barges and leave you in peace.”

The farm workers around us erupted in protest. They complained that ten barges of food would wipe Grallion out for weeks. Worse, if they gave up all their supply of safe food, then what would be left for them to eat? Already, the fear of tainted food coming in from the outside was suspect. Who could blame them, after what happened on Magorran?

“If you refuse us,” Zy Roder continued, “then we will resume our attack.” The man now grew more intense. Gone was the pleasant voice of a fellow sailor. Saint Dane or Zy Roder — whatever he called himself here — wanted the people of Grallion to understand what he was capable of.

“We cannot sink Grallion, but that is not our intent. We will begin with your pilot house. It will be obliterated so that you will have no control of your habitat. Then we will destroy your docks so you will be trapped. We will target your engine rooms so you will have no power. You will be prisoners on your own habitat, with no means of escape. Trust me, friends, we know where you are most vulnerable and we will not leave until our demands are met.”

This was pure Saint Dane. He probably didn’t even care about getting the food. What he wanted was to cause panic. The word would spread quickly among the habitats that the food supply on Cloral was suspect, and that would create chaos as normally peaceful people would start to fight over the dwindling supply of fresh food. My guess is that Saint Dane probably had something to do with poisoning the food supply as well. His plan for toppling Cloral was beginning to become clear.

“I will give you one peck of time to begin the transfer,” his voice boomed. “If I see no sign of your compliance, we will open fire. So until then, enjoy your day!”

What was a peck? Was that an hour? A minute? A second? Uncle Press read my mind and said, “Twenty minutes, in case you were wondering.”

Saint Dane had one more thought. “Oh, one last thing,” his voice boomed. “Welcome to Cloral… Pendragon.”

Yikes. My knees buckled, which I’m sure was the exact reaction Saint Dane wanted. He knew we were here. Luckily, the other vators had more to worry about than why this pirate had given me a personal greeting. That would have been hard to explain. So instead of questioning me, they all started chattering at once. Half argued to give him the food, the other half wanted to fight. Neither choice was a good one.

“At least we know a little about his plan now,” said Uncle Press, trying to sound positive.

“Yeah, big deal,” I shot back. “What are we going to do about it?”

At that moment Spader burst into the shack. He looked around quickly until he saw us. “Press, Pendragon, come!” he shouted.

Neither of us knew what else to do, so we followed. Once outside we saw that Spader was off and running. He led us down to the same floating docks where we first arrived on Grallion. The area was deserted because all the other aqua-neers were up on deck, ready to defend their habitat.

He ran to the end of one dock and jumped onto his skimmer. We finally caught up to him. I shouted, “What are you doing?”

While he spoke Spader busily prepared the skimmer for a trip.

“My father taught me everything there is to know about every ship on the sea,” he said quickly. “I know about that raider cruiser, thePursuit. There were only a few built, back when the aquaneers feared there might be a war between the habitats. They even built warships that traveled underwater. But the war never happened and the cruisers and submarines were never used — except for a few that got hijacked by raiders.”

“What’s the point, Spader?” asked Uncle Press.

Spader stopped working and looked up at us. “I know where she’s vulnerable. I can scuttle the guns.”

“How?” I asked in disbelief.

“Simple. There are two intake ports below the waterline. That’s where they bring in water for power and ammunition. If I drive a skimmer into an intake port, it’ll jam up the works. No water, no guns. It’ll be dead in the water and we can take her!”

“Did you tell Yenza about this?” asked Uncle Press.

“She wouldn’t listen. She thinks I’m off my cake.”

“Are you off your cake?” I asked.

Spader jumped off his skimmer and back onto the dock. He stood across from us and spoke with sincerity.

“Ever since you turned up here, I’ve had a feeling,” he said. “First you, Press, then later when you came back with Pendragon. I feel like you two mates are here for more than just picking fruit. Am I right? Are the three of us in for a natty-do, or am I just shooting fish?”

It seemed Spader had some rumblings about his future as a Traveler after all. He didn’t know much, he could only sense it, but it was there just the same. His father probably taught him many things to prepare him for this moment, just as Uncle Press did for me. Whatever it is that makes one a Traveler, it was starting to kick in.

“Are you with me?” Spader asked.

“More than you know,” answered Uncle Press. “What’s your plan?”

Spader jumped back down onto his skimmer.

“Press, stay here. Get to Yenza. Tell her what we’re doing. When the intake ports are jammed up, I’ll send up a signal with this flare.”

He held up a small pistol that was probably a flare gun.

“This flare won’t go up until thePursuitis crippled,” he added. “Then Yenza can take a crew and board her before the raiders figure out what happened.”

“What about me?” I asked.

“You’re getting pretty good under the water, mate,” he said.

“Whoa! You want me to go with you? Under that cruiser?”

“I told you, there aretwointake ports. I can’t hit ‘em both at the same time.”

I looked to Uncle Press, hoping he’d bail me out of this suicide mission. He didn’t.

“Are you up to this, Bobby?” he asked.

No! I wasn’t!

“It’ll be easy, mate,” said Spader. “They won’t be looking underwater. All we have to do is sneak up from below, wrench off the intake covers and send in a couple of skimmers. Snappy-do!”

It did sound easy. I spent a lot of time underwater with Spader and I was pretty confident down there. Maybe I could do this after all.

“I don’t suppose there’s a plan B?” I asked Uncle Press.

“Not this time,” he answered. “Unless you’ve got one.”

I didn’t. I was going underwater.

“Wait for the flare!” shouted Spader.

“Be careful!” Uncle Press shouted back as he ran back up the stairs toward the deck.

Yeah, careful. That was a joke, right?

Spader opened the cargo carrier that was behind his skimmer and pulled out two water sleds and two air globes. He threw one air globe to me and stowed the two water sleds in the floor compartment of his skimmer. He then unhooked the cargo carrier so he wouldn’t have to drag it along.

“Are those water sleds big enough to do the job?” I asked.

“Nah, those are for our getaway,” said Spader.

“Then what are we going to use to jam the intake ports?”

Spader jumped from his skimmer onto another that was right next to it. He threw a few toggle switches and the engines whined to life.

“You take my skimmer,” he said.

This didn’t make a whole lot of sense. If we were going to sneak up on the raiders’ cruiser from underwater, then why were we each taking a skimmer? They may be fast, but Saint Dane and his crew would see us coming for sure.

Spader put his air globe over his head and it instantly conformed to him. I did the same. I jumped onto the skimmer and started to power it up. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and asked, “Won’t they see us coming?”

Spader pointed to a black toggle switch that was under the steering column.

“They would — if we were on top of the water.”

He flipped the black toggle and a rush of air bubbles blew out from under his skimmer. Then it started to sink. Spader looked at me and smiled. I found the same switch on my skimmer, and threw it. The same thing happened. Slowly my skimmer submerged. As it turned out, these babies didn’t just fly over the water, they traveled underwater, too!

Just before his head went under, Spader asked, “How do you know Zy Roder?”

“Long story,” I answered. “I’ll tell you later.”

“You’d better. Hobey-ho!”

With that, my head sank below and we were under way. Spader had given me skimmer lessons before, so I was familiar with how it operated. But this was way different. Rather than stand up, I held on to the steering handles and my body floated parallel to the deck.

“You okay?” asked Spader.

“I think,” was my answer.

“Then let’s hit it!”

He cranked his throttle, dipped the nose of his skimmer, and immediately shot down to the ocean floor. I did the same, and we were off. This was a lot like using the water sleds, except they were much more powerful. I was too heavy on the throttle at first and the skimmer nearly pulled out of my grasp. I followed behind Spader but made sure to stay out of his wake because when I got too close, the jets from his skimmer’s pontoons hit me like turbulence. It took me a few minutes, but I eventually got the knack of controlling the vehicle and staying clear of Spader. Now all I had to do was worry about the killers we were sneaking up on.

Spader hugged the sandy bottom. That was smart. The deeper we were, the less chance there was of us being spotted. Remember, the water was very clear on Cloral. Visibility had to be at least a hundred feet. I really hoped that from the deck of thePursuit, we just looked like big fish.

In no time I could look up and see the dark shape of the cruiser floating above us. Everything looks bigger underwater, but even accounting for that, this ship looked immense. It was like a giant black cloud that blocked out the sun. Spader set his skimmer down in the sand directly beneath the massive ship, right in its shadow.

“I’ll go up first,” he said while taking out a wrench-looking tool from his back pocket. I’ll pull off the intake covers, then come back for you. Get the water sleds ready to go.”

I nodded and gave the “okay” sign. I still wasn’t used to talking underwater. Spader took off swimming up to thePursuit, and I swam to his skimmer to get the water sleds. So far so good, but time was running out. I didn’t have my watch (since I wasn’t allowed to have a Second Earth watch on another territory), but I guessed that we were getting close to the end of the twenty-minute time limit.

I got both water sleds and rested them down in the sand between our skimmers. A few moments later, Spader joined me.

“It was snappy-do,” he announced. “Covers came right off. All that’s left is for us to drop off our gifts.”

“Tell me exactly what to do,” I said.

Spader pointed up at the hull. “Right near the stern you’ll see a big round opening. I left the cover hanging from it so you wouldn’t miss. There’s two of ‘em. I’ll take the one on the far side of the keel. All you have to do is bring the skimmer right up to the mouth, hit the throttle, and let her go. Soon as it’s on the way, meet me right back here. I’ll set off the flare, and we’ll have a leisurely water sled ride back to Grallion while Press and Yenza start the natty-do topside.”

“Got it,” I said. It didn’t sound all that hard.

“Then let’s be heroes,” said Spader, and hit the throttle of his skimmer.

He didn’t speed to the surface; he traveled with more caution. Now was not the time to get cocky and make a mistake. I powered up and ascended just as cautiously. I kept looking up at the dark hull as I grew closer, expecting some alarm to sound and to have the raiders start firing their water cannons down at us. As long as we stayed directly under, we stood a good chance of pulling this off.

It only took a few seconds for us to reach the ship. A steady hum came from its engines. I glanced to Spader. He pointed up at the hull. I looked, and sure enough, there it was. There was a round opening about six feet in diameter with a metal cover hanging below it. The intake port wasn’t flush with the hull, it was perpendicular to it. The metal cover that hung from the opening had narrow slits to let water in and debris out. Now that the cover was off, anything could get stuck inside and we were riding two very big pieces of debris. I was beginning to think this would work.

Spader and I now had to separate. He gave me a thumbs up sign — a Second Earth gesture he picked up from me — and glided his skimmer across the keel to the far side of the ship and the other intake port.

Now came the most critical part of the operation. I carefully guided my skimmer up toward the open port. The opening wasn’t much bigger than the width of the skimmer, pontoon to pontoon, so I had to make sure the whole vehicle got inside. I also didn’t want to bang the skimmer against the hull because that might alert someone that predators were lurking below. I carefully used the throttle to maneuver the craft into position. I had to bring it right up under the hull, then move parallel with the hull into the intake port. It was tricky, but I soon had the entire skimmer resting inside the port. The hard part was over. I was almost there. All I had to do was hit the throttle.

But I never got the chance.

That’s because the ship came to life. The engines that had been idling quietly suddenly roared. I guessed the twenty minutes were over. The raiders were getting ready to fire on Grallion. The noise grew deafening, but worse than that, I felt a rush of water and realized with horror that I was being sucked into the intake port! ThePursuitwas drawing in water for power and ammunition — and I was well within sucking range! The force of the intake pulled me into the opening. In seconds I would be splatter. There was nothing to grab on to. I was going in.

That’s when a strange thing happened that I still can’t explain. Even as I think back to what happened, it doesn’t make sense. It felt like someone seized me by the hand and pulled me out far enough to grab on to the edge of the intake port. I wrapped my fingers around the lip then struggled to bring my other hand forward and grab on as well. I looked up, expecting to see Spader there, but he wasn’t there. Whoever had saved me was gone.

Did I say saved? I wasn’t saved yet. I held on to the lip of the intake port with the tips of my fingers. My entire body was still inside the tube leading into the ship. The force of the water grew stronger. I didn’t have the strength to pull myself forward. I tried to find something with my feet to push off of, but the inside of the tube was smooth. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

That’s when I realized that the force of the intake pump wasn’t just pulling on me, it was pulling at my skimmer, too. There was still hope! If I could hold on long enough, the skimmer would be sucked into the engine and jam it up just as if I had sent it in myself. All I had to do was hang on. But I didn’t know how long I would last. It was torture. The only thing keeping me from being hamburger were the tips of my fingers. I watched as the skimmer slowly moved past me, headed deeper into the ship. It was taking too long. I wasn’t going to be able to hang on much longer. The force of the water grew stronger, and the skimmer moved faster. But that meant it was even tougher to hold on. I screamed. Why not? Nobody could hear me over the roar of the engines.

My fingers had gone numb. I was done. Like a fiendish hungry beast, the intake pump finally won the battle. I lost my grip. I flew in toward the engine, knowing I was seconds away from death. I could only hope that it wouldn’t hurt too much.

But an instant later I heard a horrifying grinding sound, and the pull of water stopped. The skimmer had been sucked into the engine! Spader’s plan worked. Yes! I instantly kicked my fins and swam out of that hole as fast as I possibly could. I blasted out into open water and shot down toward the bottom, kicking for all I was worth.

Spader was already there, waiting for me. I was totally out of breath and probably looked as terrified as I felt.

“What kept you?” asked Spader calmly.

I wanted to scream that I was nearly sucked into the engine, but figured it could wait until later.

“Did you do it?” I yelled.

“Of course,” was Spader’s confident answer.

“Then shoot the flare!” I ordered.

He pointed the gun topside and fired. A screaming bright arc of light blasted from the pistol and shot toward the surface leaving a bright trail of light behind it. I looked up to see that the missile broke the surface and continued on into the sky. We had done it. We had crippled Saint Dane and thePursuitand opened the door for Yenza and the aquaneers to defend Grallion.

But we had done something else, too.

A few seconds later I saw four splashes next to the ship. Four divers had just hit the water, and they were coming after us. Yeah, you guessed it. The raiders saw our flare.

“Uh-oh,” said Spader. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

“We can’t get back to Grallion,” I said. “They’ll get us for sure.”

“Then let’s give ‘em a chase,” said Spader as he grabbed his water sled.

We both powered up and sped off along the ocean floor headed for… I didn’t know where. We flew over the bottom, inches from the coral, looking for a place to hide. It was a good thing that Spader and I had played all those games underwater, because my skills at handling the water sled were pretty good. Without slowing down, I looked back and saw the four raiders were right after us. They had water sleds too. I wondered if one of them was Saint Dane.

As we flew along the ocean bottom something caught my eye off to our right. Something was swimming alongside us, shadowing us. I only caught a quick glimpse because whatever it was, it darted below the coral. But what I saw didn’t make sense. It couldn’t have been a person because it was moving too fast. It might have been a big fish, maybe even a quig, but quigs were gray and black. This thing was green, like the water. Weird.

“The kelp!” shouted Spader.

I forgot about my strange vision and looked ahead to see the beginnings of the tangle of red sea kelp that grew from the coral reef and stretched up to the surface. If we could get into that dense jungle, we might have a chance of losing the raiders.

“Stay close,” commanded Spader. “Don’t want to get separated in there.”

We hit the dense kelp but didn’t slow down. The slimy leaves whipped at us as we sped by. Imagine running full tilt through a wet field of corn. That’s what it was like. For a moment I thought we were home free, but it didn’t last long because a second later, we popped out of the far side. Bad news. The kelp forest wasn’t anywhere big enough to hide us. We had to keep going.

And that’s when it happened. It was just a slight movement. I wasn’t even sure what it was at first, but a moment later it hit me. It was my ring. It was getting warm and the gray stone was starting to glow. That meant that we were getting near the gate. I looked up ahead and saw the shelf of rock where the quig had nearly gotten us. It was the rock formation that held the gate to the flume. I knew instantly that it was our best and only hope. Spader was going to have to learn about being a Traveler sometime. I couldn’t think of a better way to do it and save our butts at the same time.

“Follow me!” I shouted to Spader and changed my direction toward the rock overhang. Spader didn’t question. He followed. The thought of running into a quig flashed through my head, but right now it was the least of our worries. When we were just about to shoot under the rock ledge, Spader yelled, “Stop!”

I did. He glided up to me and said, “Don’t want to get trapped under there, mate. They’ll have us for sure.”

I looked back toward the kelp forest in time to see the four raiders break out of the vegetation and spot us.

“Do you trust me?” I asked.

“Well sure, mate, but — “

“Then c’mon!”

I hit the throttle and shot under the rock ledge. I did a quick look back to see if Spader was following. He was. For a change I could take the lead and he believed in me enough to follow. Now all I had to do was deliver.

The rock ceiling looked different, but only because the last time I was here I was going the other way. But that wasn’t a good excuse for being lost. I had to find the gate. The raiders had already gotten to the rock ledge and were still coming fast. All they had to do was follow our bubbles and they’d have us. I could only hope that I’d find the gate before I hit the dead end of rock.

I started to panic. I was lost. I didn’t know where the gate was. This rock ledge was huge. We could swim around here for hours without finding it. What was I thinking? I had led us into a trap. I had to calm down and think. Where was it?

The answer hit me instantly. I had been in such a rush to get in here that I wasn’t thinking straight. There was an easy way to find the gate. It was my ring. I swept my hand out in front of me and saw that the stone would dim or grow brighter, depending on the direction I pointed. I carefully judged when the ring was shining brightest and that told me our course. It was like following a compass. I took off in that direction and seconds later, I saw it. The round hole in the ceiling was only yards ahead. I aimed my water sled toward it and gunned the engine.

A quick thought went through my mind. Maybe I shouldn’t be leading the raiders to the gate and the flume. But I reasoned that it didn’t make a difference. If it was Saint Dane behind us, he already knew about the gate. If it wasn’t Saint Dane, then it wouldn’t matter if the raiders found it. The flume didn’t work for non-Travelers. No, this was the right move for all sorts of reasons.

I broke the surface inside the cavern and looked around quickly. It was exactly the same as we had left it. A moment later, Spader broke the surface next to me and looked around in wonder.

“Hobey, mate! How did you know about this?”

I pulled off my air globe and tossed it onto the ledge. I threw my water sled there too. There was no time to explain things to Spader. The raiders would be here in a second. So I yanked off his air globe and threw it and his water sled to the side. The two of us floated in the middle of the pool, treading water.

“I hope there’s another way out of here,” he said.

I laughed at that. I actually laughed.

“Spader,” I said. “You have no idea… but you soon will.”

I glanced up at the opening to the flume. I counted on the fact that we didn’t have to climb up the sheer rock face to get there. We didn’t have time.

“I’ll ask you again,” I said. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, mate, but you better come up with something quick or we’re going to have our own natty-do right here and — “

“Zadaa!”I shouted.

The flume came to life. The familiar bright light shot from the opening. The jumble of musical notes grew closer. Spader looked up in awe.

“Hobey, Pendragon,” he said softly. “Where did you say you were from again?”

The water around us started to swirl. The light from the flume grew bright and the two of us were pulled up, together, out of the waters of Cloral.

A second later, we were on our way to see Loor.

END OFJOURNAL#6

“Why did he go to Zadaa?”huffed Courtney. “Why didn’t he bring Spader here to Second Earth? This is his home!”

Mark knew the answer. Loor was a Traveler. She would be able to help Bobby explain things to Spader. Things were getting hairy on Cloral and Loor was the kind of person you went to when things got hairy. Mark felt that Courtney should have realized this, but her jealousy toward Loor was clouding her thinking. Not that he’d point that out to her. No way.

Courtney stood up angrily and shoved the pages back at Mark.

“Well, if Bobby Pendragon thinks his new friend can help him better than we can, thengood luckis all I have to say!”

“C’mon, Courtney,” said Mark softly. “You know he did the right thing.”

Courtney looked as if she wanted to argue, but backed off. She knew.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” she said with a pout.

Mark now faced a dilemma. He had to tell Courtney about Andy Mitchell. He made a dumb mistake by leaving the page in the boys’ bathroom and because of it, Mitchell knew about the journals.

“I’m sorry, Mark,” added Courtney. She had calmed down. “You’re right. You’ve been right about everything from the beginning. It’s good that one of us thinks straight. At least now we know why these pages are different than the last ones. He wrote this journal on Zadaa, not Cloral, right?”

Mark wanted to scream. Courtney Chetwynde relied on him to be the brains of this duo and right now he was feeling like anything but. She trusted him and listened to his advice, which is more than anybody else ever did, except for Bobby sometimes. It killed him to have to admit he had screwed up royally.

“You okay?” asked Courtney, sensing that something was wrong.

“Yeah, sure, I’m f-fine,” answered Mark quickly. “Just worried about Bobby is all.”

“You’d better get those pages back to your house before anything else happens.”

Mark looked at Courtney, saw the trust in her amazing gray eyes and made a decision. He couldn’t tell her about Andy Mitchell. At least not yet. He wanted to work this out on his own rather than risk losing Courtney’s faith. This was his problem and he was going to have to deal with it.

So he gathered the pages of Journal #6 together, put them in his pack, and left for home. Normally, once they finished reading a journal, Mark would stash it in the safest place he knew — an ancient rolltop desk in his attic. His parents hadn’t gone up there in years and Mark had the only key. He wore it on a chain around his neck just to be safe. Every precaution had been taken. As soon as a journal was finished, it went into the desk.

Tonight was a little different though. Mark crept up to the attic and unlocked the desk drawer. He placed Journal #6 inside next to the brown rolls of parchment that were Bobby’s journals from Denduron. But rather than lock them up, he took out Journal #5 — the journal Andy Mitchell had seen the first page of. This was the journal he would show Mitchell. He hoped that maybe this would be enough. Maybe Mitchell would think it was all a crazy joke and get bored after reading these pages. It was the best Mark could hope for.

He spent a sleepless night, wondering how he was going to get out of this predicament. Sharing the journals with Courtney made sense. Courtney was Bobby’s friend. Courtney could be trusted. But Andy Mitchell was different. He was an idiot. Worse, he was a bully-idiot. There was no telling what Mitchell would do with the information about Bobby once he got it. But as hard as he tried to figure a way out, he just couldn’t find it. He had no choice but to show Mitchell the pages tomorrow.

At school the next day Mark did his best to avoid Mitchell. He held out the desperate hope that Mitchell had forgotten all about the journal page he’d found in the boys’ bathroom. Mark got through the entire day without even seeing his nemesis. His hopes started to rise. He told himself that Mitchell didn’t care enough to even show up for school! Maybe this would all blow over.

Wrong. No sooner had Mark stepped out of his last class than he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“Time for a little homework, aye, Dimond?” chuckled Andy Mitchell.

Mark’s heart sank. The guy hadn’t forgotten at all. It was time to deal with the devil. Mark shrugged Mitchell’s hand off his shoulder and said, “Let’s go.”

Mitchell snorted and chuckled. He made Mark’s skin crawl, but there was no way out of this. So Mark led him up to the boys’bathroom on the third floor. No one would bother them there, especially not Courtney. After her run-in with Mr. Dorrico, they decided not to read the journals there anymore. This was the best place Mark could think of to get some privacy, and to avoid Courtney. He felt guilty as hell about it, but there was no other way.

When they got inside Mitchell stood with his hand out. Mark stared at him. Mitchell snorted back a good one and hawked a lougie into a urinal. Mark nearly retched. He had a fleeting thought of barging past Mitchell and running away, but that would have been useless. No, this was the only way. So reluctantly he reached into his pack and pulled out the roll of green, slick paper that was Journal #5.

Mitchell reached out to grab it, but Mark pulled it away.

“You gotta read it here and you gotta give it right back when you’re done,” Mark said. Mitchell wasn’t used to being ordered around like this, especially not from a geek like Mark Dimond. But Mark was intense. He was not fooling around. Mitchell snorted and chuckled, again.

“Whatever,” he said, and swiped the pages away from Mark. He walked over to one of the stalls saying, “I’ll read it in here.”

“You will read it right here, where I can see you!” commanded Mark.

Whoa. If Mitchell wasn’t sure about how important those pages were to Mark, he sure was now. Mark was not going to allow Andy Mitchell to control this situation any more than he had to. He already had too much control as it was. If Mitchell didn’t do exactly as he said, Mark was ready to grab the pages away and take his chances with the police.

Mitchell chose to back off and gave another signature snort.

“All right, be cool,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll read ‘em wherever you want.”

Mitchell then walked to the far wall, turned his back to it, and slid down to the floor. With one last snort, he began to read the journal.

Mark didn’t move. He stood by the sinks, staring at Mitchell. This was killing him. With each passing second he felt as if he were betraying Bobby a little bit more.

Mitchell took forever to read the journal. He wasn’t exactly a rocket scientist and he constantly had to ask Mark the meanings of words. Mark would roll his eyes and explain to him what words like “submerge” and “erosion” meant. Worse, when Mitchell got to words that were specific to Cloral like vators or pecks, his total cluelessness made Mark want to scream. Mark felt bad for any teacher who was saddled with the likes of Andy Mitchell. He wondered who had the patience to teach him how to tie his shoelaces.

Finally, mercifully, Mitchell finished the journal and looked up to Mark. This was the critical moment. Mitchell’s first reaction was going to tell Mark how much trouble he was going to cause from here on in. Mitchell stared at Mark for a moment, as if trying to pull his thoughts together. Mark figured that pulling those slim thoughts together couldn’t take more than a nanosecond. It didn’t. Mitchell snorted and laughed again.

“Who are you kidding?” he said with a sneer. “You made this up!”

Mark didn’t react. He just stared at Mitchell. The truth was, he didn’t care if Mitchell believed the journals were real or not. But Mark realized instantly that not reacting was the exact wrong move. He saw it in Mitchell’s eyes. Mark realized that if he had argued with Mitchell and said something like “I didn’t make it up! It’s all true! I swear!” then Mitchell would have figured he was just some loser geek with a wild imagination and that would have been the end of it. But he didn’t. By not arguing, he had done the exact opposite. His silence convinced Mitchell that everything in the journalwastrue. Mark wished he had a second chance to react, but it was too late.

Mitchell began to stand up. Before he got his balance, Mark swiped the journal pages out of his hand.

“Easy!” complained Mitchell.

“Are we done now?” asked Mark as he rolled up the journal.

“Done?” laughed Mitchell. “We’re just starting! I want to read the other journals. The ones from that Denduroni place.”

“Denduron. I can’t let you — “

“And I want to read the journal that showed up here yesterday. I’m not stupid, Dimond. I saw it. It was brown, not green like this one. You already got another delivery from Pendragon and I want to see it.”

“N-No way! I agreed to let you read the rest of — “

Mitchell lunged at Mark, grabbed him by the shirt, spun him around, and slammed him against the hard tile wall of the bathroom. He knocked the air out of his lungs and Mark nearly passed out. Mitchell wouldn’t let him go though. He stuck his nose right in Mark’s face and hissed, “Stop tellin’ me what to do, you little freak. You wanna mess with me? I’ll hit you so hard you’ll be eatin’ and fartin’ out of the same hole.”

Mark didn’t believe that was possible, but he didn’t want to risk it.

“Now listen to me. Do not tell Courtney Chetwynde I know about this. If you do, I’ll go right to the police and fry both of your butts. Understand?”

“But — “

Mitchell slammed Mark against the wall again. This time Mark hit his head on the tiles.,

“Understand?”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“And I want to see the rest of them journals. We are sitting on a very big thing here. Someday we are gonna be famous, thanks to that weez Pendragon.”

Mark was horrified. Mitchell, the village idiot, was already planning on how to release the journals to the world. This could not get worse.

“I want to see another one of them journals,” he commanded, then threw Mark out of the way, and strode toward the bathroom door.

With one final snort, he then kicked the door open and left.

Mark sunk down to the floor, hurting in more ways than one. He had messed up worse than he could imagine. Mitchell now had complete control over him. Worse, if he told Courtney about it then Mitchell would make sure that the police knew everything. There was no one he could go to for help. He wanted to handle this on his own, but he was doing a truly bad job. He had let Bobby down, he had let Courtney down, and he had let himself down.

And then, just to add to his confusion, the ring on his finger started to twitch. In the past this had always been a moment of excitement because it meant he was going to hear from his best friend again. But now the idea of another journal arriving meant that it was going to be one more journal he would have to share with Andy Mitchell. One more journal that he would have to explain to the dimwit. One more journal that marked his total failure as a friend.

Mark took off the ring and put it on the floor. He then rolled over and turned his back to it. He knew what was going to happen. He didn’t have to see. He closed his eyes and softly whispered, “I’m sorry, Bobby. I’m going to fix everything, I swear.”

When he turned back around, the ring was lying right here he had left it. Next to it was another journal.