Now, you may be thinking that I have no business running a farm, and you’d be right. Before coming to Grallion I didn’t know the difference between weeds and worms. I didn’t think Uncle Press did either. But it didn’t matter because we weren’t the only vators assigned to our quadrant. There were six other workers with us and each was pretty experienced. They showed us how to check plants for signs of disease and how to treat them with natural compounds brought up from the ocean floor. All the fertilizer was natural too. It seemed like even though Cloral was covered with water, much of what they used on the surface was brought up from below and processed for use on the habitats.
The fruit grew quickly on Grallion, so there was a harvest of some sort every few days. You would think this was the hardest part, and maybe it was, but it wasn’t all that bad. It wasn’t like we had to go out into the fields with baskets and fill them up with heavy fruit and lug them back to a central area or anything. It was way more civilized than that. Beneath every narrow walking path was an underground conveyor belt. All we had to do was pick the fruit and drop it on the ground, then lift the doors and drop the fruit down below. The conveyor belt would take it all to a central area where another of the vators from our quadrant would be waiting to wash, sort, and pack them up. It was all so simple.
Uncle Press and I went below several times to receive the harvested fruit from our quadrant and ensure that it was all cleaned and packed properly. We then used a forklift to bring the boxes of fruit all the way forward to the loading docks.
This is where we saw Spader at work. It was a busy place. There were all sorts of transport boats coming and going, bringing shipments of fresh fruits and vegetables back to their habitats. The habitats themselves were never allowed closer than a half mile to Grallion. That would have been dangerous. Instead they would send in small boats that would safely enter the docking area. Spader’s job was that of traffic cop. He’d travel just in front of the incoming boats on his skimmer, calling back instructions to get them safely docked. He’d then jump on the dock, tie up the boat and signal the dock workers to begin the loading process. Once a cargo boat was loaded, he’d reverse the process and guide the boats safely out of the docking area and send them on their way back to their habitats.
But that’s not all Spader did. He was also on the pilot’s crew. The pilot was like the captain of a ship. He was in charge of the vessel and its safety. Spader was still kind of a junior crew member, so most of his duties were of the lookout variety. At any given time there were ten lookouts stationed around the habitat to warn of any impending problems. It was a boring job, but an important one. It was probably pretty boring being a lookout on the Titanic, too. For a while, anyway. That will give you an idea of how important that job was.
I can guess what you’re thinking. I made working on Grallion sound as if it were actually fun. Well, fun isn’t exactly the word. It was work and some of it was hard, but I didn’t mind it. I felt like I was an important part in keeping the wheels turning.
No, working the farm wasn’t exactly fun, but there were plenty of other things to do that were definitely fun.
Spader took me on adventures. You know how much I like to dive, and on Grallion, hanging out below the water was a pretty normal thing. I already described how easy it was to swim underwater using the air globes. These gizmos made swimming underwater almost as natural as walking on the deck of Grallion. Actually, it was better. This is the closest to flying that I think a human will ever come. Spader and I would have races underneath Grallion. I really got the knack of using the water sleds. I found that by subtly shifting my body position, I could turn faster and move quicker. It was all about becoming aqua-dynamic. It didn’t take long before I was almost as fast as Spader.
Spader took me fishing, too. I’m not much of a hunter, so he did most of the spearing. I acted more like a scout who found the larger fish and alerted Spader. I guess that makes me kind of like a hunting dog. Oh, well, that was my choice. But I have to tell you, I didn’t mind eating the fish afterward. (Spader was a pretty decent cook, too.)
At first I was nervous about quigs, but Spader assured me that the sharks never came near Grallion. I knew that was because quigs only patrolled near gates and flumes, but I wasn’t about to tell Spader that—yet.
Spader also showed me something that was really bizarre. Near where Grallion was anchored was another farm. An underwater farm! The people of Grallion didn’t just farm on the habitat, they had crops growing on the ocean floor, too! This submerged farm had its own vators who tended the place wearing air globes. They grew everything from fruit, to long leafy vines that were cut at the base and brought up whole. Spader explained to me that these underwater farms were even more important to Cloral than farms like Grallion. He said there were farms all over the planet on the ocean’s floor that had fed the Clorans for centuries. Growing food on habitats was a relatively new practice. The most important farms were underwater.
There was another underwater sport that Spader introduced me to, and once I got the guts to try it, I was hooked. Spader called it spinney-do and this is how it worked: A spinney was a kind of fish that traveled in small schools of maybe four or five and they looked like really skinny dolphins. I’m serious. Imagine a regular old dolphin, then imagine it being only about six inches in diameter and you’d have a spinney. At the backs of their heads they had these bizarro ridges. I had no idea what the spinneys needed them for, but they were crucial to playing spinney-do.
Spader motioned for me to be quiet and to watch. He then left me and swam cautiously up behind the spinneys, who were busily feeding on some kelp. They had no clue that he was there. They may have looked like skinny dolphins, but they were nowhere near as smart. Spader was able to sneak up right behind them. With one quick move, he jumped on the back of one and grabbed the ridge behind its head! Well, the spinney didn’t like that at all and it started to bloat! It was like one of those puffer fishes that get all fat when you touch them. Only the spinney was so big, when it puffed up it got huge! It was strong, too! It had suddenly transformed from this sleepy, dopey fish into a water-going bucking bronco! Spader held on to the back ridge with both hands and wrapped his legs around its body as the fish started thrashing and bucking.
“Eeeyahhhaaa!” shouted Spader. You’d think he knew about Westerns and bronco busting, but I guess shouting like that comes naturally when your adrenaline spikes and you’re holding on to an animal for all you’re worth. Spader then got cocky and let one hand go, just to show off. The spinney twisted and spun and did its best to launch Spader, but Spader wasn’t letting go. Finally, the big fish shot upward. Spader wasn’t ready for that move because he did a somersault right off the fish’s back. The real beauty of spinney-do was that even when you got thrown, you were still underwater so it wasn’t like you were going to hit the ground and break a rib or anything.
“Next one’s yours, mate!” exclaimed Spader, still flush with excitement.
I wasn’t so sure I wanted to try, but it looked like fun. Two spinneys were poking around the kelp and Spader motioned for me to give it a go. To be honest, I was scared. But I wasn’t going to let Spader see me chicken out, so I did my best.
My best was bad. I actually got as far as grabbing the spinney’s back ridge and wrapping my legs around its body. But I hadn’t expected it to be so strong. The thing bloated, bolted, and was gone. I just floated there, my hand still out, not sure of what happened. Spader swam up to me and patted me on the back.
“Gotta be faster than that, mate,” he said, laughing. “You’re on their turf down here.”
Good advice. I’d remember it next time.
While Spader and I were having these adventures under the sea, Uncle Press was spending his off time learning more about Grallion and about Cloral. After all, we were here on a mission and the more we learned about this territory, the better prepared we’d be when Saint Dane made his move. I felt kind of guilty about having so much fun while Uncle Press wa
s playing Sherlock. But he assured me that it was just as important for me to get to know Spader—he was the Traveler from Cloral, even though he didn’t know it yet. At some point we were going to have to work together, so Uncle Press figured it would be a good idea for the two of us to bond.
That was okay by me. Spader and I were having a blast. The thought of battling Saint Dane was the furthest thing from my mind, most of the time. So after having spent a bunch of weeks on Grallion with Spader, I decided that my first impression of him still stood. He was a guy with a big personality and an even bigger sense of fun. He was a truly good guy who listened as much as he spoke. He also cared. He was quick to help out a friend, or even a stranger. He wasn’t a slacker, either. He may have liked to have a good time, but he worked hard and he loved his job. This was a good guy to know. I’ll remember those first few weeks on Grallion for the rest of my life. It was a great time.
But it was soon going to end.
One evening Spader made me dinner at his house. Uncle Press chose to hang at Grolo’s instead. Spader had speared a couple of particularly tasty Kooloo fish that day and grilled them over hot coals in his backyard. Sounds like home, no? The fish was golden and delicious. After dinner I cleaned up the dishes and Spader went to work cleaning up the rest of his house. There were clothes and pieces of equipment scattered everywhere. To be honest, it looked more like a garage than an apartment. Spader wasn’t big on being neat, but tonight was different. He went around picking things up and putting things away and basically making the place look like someone actually lived there.
“What’s the occasion?” I asked. “Got a date?”
I then noticed that Spader had more energy than usual. Believe me, for Spader that’s really saying something. He was pretty much bouncing off the walls as he worked. It was like somebody took his power dial and notched it up a few amps.
“Big day tomorrow, mate,” he said with excitement. “My father is coming by. Can’t let ’im think I live like a dirty old crocker fish!”
This was the first I heard about Spader’s family.
“Where does he live?” I asked.
“He’s an aquaneer on Magorran,” he said while continuing to clean up. “It’s a manu habitat. Schedule has it swinging by tomorrow for supplies.”
“Manu habitat?”
“They build things. Pieces for machinery and skinners and whatnot.”
“Is that your home?”
“Home? No, mate. Home is Panger City. Lived there my whole life until I went to the Aquaneer Academy. My mum’s still there. Haven’t seen either of ’em for . . . hobey, can’t remember. It’s been a while.”
I was beginning to get the bigger picture about what life was like on Cloral. These habitats were like cities and people left home to work, just like back on Second Earth.
“Dad’s a real spiffer,” Spader continued. “Gave me the aquaneer bug. Had me around skimmers my whole life. They wanted to make him an officer but he turned ’em down—didn’t want to leave the docks. His tour’s up soon so he can get back to Mum. Hobey, I can’t wait to see his face again. Give me a hand here mate, would you?”
I helped him lift a couple of large water sleds he had been working on and put them into a closet.
“You never told me about your parents,” said Spader.
Uh-oh. Up until now I’d been able to dodge questions about home. I’m not a good liar. Uncle Press and I made up a story about how we came from a distant habitat that was a university. We said it was full of intellectuals and professors, which explained why I needed to learn so much about working in the water and how the “real world” worked. Whenever Spader couldn’t believe how little I knew about Cloral, I’d shrug and say: “I didn’t get out much.”
I hated lying to Spader, but I knew the truth would come out soon enough and hoped that when it did, he’d understand. But now he was putting me on the spot again by asking about my parents. I was going to have to come up with some version of the truth, because the whole truth would have blown Spader’s head off.
“Dad’s a writer,” I said. “Mom works in a library.”
That was the absolute truth, and it made my heart sink. This was the first time I had spoken about my parents in a long time. What made it worse was I had to pretend as if nothing was wrong. I couldn’t tell Spader that they had disappeared, along with my sister and my dog. I think Spader must have sensed my anguish, because he didn’t ask any more questions. That was good for all sorts of reasons.
“It’s tough being away from loved ones,” he said softly.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Tell you what, come with me to meet Dad tomorrow! You’ll get a knock out of him, you will!”
“Sounds good,” I said, but with a touch of sadness. I missed my family.
Uncle Press said that Spader was the Traveler from Cloral. I wondered if his parents had raised him to be a Traveler the same way Uncle Press said my family did for me. If so, did that mean they would disappear the same way my family had? Spader obviously cared about his parents. As we worked to make his house a little neater, I hoped that when the habitat of Magorran arrived the next day, his father would be on it.
The next day Uncle Press and I made the long walk forward to the transport docks to be there when Spader’s father arrived. I could tell that Uncle Press was disturbed about something. As I told him of my previous day’s adventures under the waters near Grallion, he stared straight down at his feet and didn’t say a word. His mind was definitely somewhere else.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” came his thoughtful answer. “I’m feeling . . . uneasy, and I can’t put my finger on it.”
“What? Now you’re psychic?”
“It’s just a feeling. Don’t you sense it?”
I thought. I felt. I looked around. Nothing.
“Uhh . . . no. Should I?”
“Maybe,” he answered. “It’s a Traveler thing.”
“You mean we can predict the future, too?”
“No, but you’ll start to realize you can pick up on things. It’s like walking into a room and knowing right away that there’s an argument going on, even though you haven’t heard a word spoken. It’s just picking up on the signals that people send out. No big deal.”
“And you’re picking up bad signals right now?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
“I’m not sure. I just have this sense of . . . dread.”
“I don’t like dread,” I shot back. “Dread is bad. Could this have anything to do with Spader’s parents?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” he said while pointing forward.
I looked to where he was pointing and saw it.
Magorran.
The manu habitat had appeared on the horizon and was steaming toward Grallion. Though it was still far away, I could tell that it was a different type of habitat than Grallion. It didn’t seem as big. It might have been a third of the size. But the buildings on deck were taller. I guessed that these were some of the factories that Spader told me about. The closer it got, the larger these buildings loomed. It was pretty impressive. Uncle Press and I picked up the pace and hurried to the forward dock area to be there when the first advance boats arrived.
When we got there, we saw that several aquaneers stood on their skimmers, ready to shoot out to meet the advance boats. Uncle Press saw something down on the dock and pointed it out to me. I looked, and couldn’t help but smile.
It was Spader. It wasn’t weird for him to be down there or anything. It was the way he was dressed. Spader wasn’t much for wearing his aquaneer uniform: the black long-sleeved outfit with the yellow stripes on the cuff. He normally wore his sleeveless shirt that was cut off at the shoulders. But today was different. Today Spader was here to greet his father and he was decked out in his best uniform. It was clean, too. I even think he took the time to comb his hair. To use one of his sayings, he looked pretty spiff.
As we st
ood above the docks, waiting for the first boat from Magorran to arrive, I began to have the same sense of dread that Uncle Press was feeling. I wasn’t being overly insightful or anything, it was because I sensed a stirring among the aquaneers who were gathered below on the floating dock. Up until now they had been casually chatting and laughing. Suddenly their body language grew more tense. All eyes were focused out on the water and at Magorran.
I then looked up at Magorran. The habitat was drawing nearer. Most of the habitats that came to Grallion for supplies stayed far away. Grallion was anchored and stayed in place while the other habitats hovered about a half mile away. It was a safety thing. The habitats were so big that they didn’t exactly turn on a dime and you never knew when the current would change. So all things considered, it was smart to keep the habitats far apart and send smaller boats between them.
But now something was wrong. There was confusion. It looked as if the aquaneers weren’t sure of what to do. I didn’t know what was going on, but whatever it was, it was bad. The answer came quickly. Wu Yenza, the chief aquaneer, ran out onto the upper platform near us. Her eyes were wild with excitement—and fear.
“Perimeter breach!” she barked out. “Warn them off!”
The aquaneers scattered. A moment later a piercing horn sounded long and loud.
“What’s going on?” I asked Uncle Press.
Uncle Press didn’t look at me. His eyes were focused on Magorran. When he spoke his voice was soft and calm. It was the voice of someone describing the inevitable.
The Lost City of Faar Page 8