by Gregory Mone
Lewis also wanted one of those Atlantean shirts that dried instantly. Maybe a gravity suit. And an extra bottle or two of the hot sauce. Or a case, even. But these requests were nothing compared to his one main wish. “And promise you’ll leave my father alone.”
“And that’s all,” Hanna said.
Demos stared up through the vast glass dome, then peered down at the thousands of sleek warships. The Erasers watched him, awaiting his decision.
After a long, deep breath, he said, “You may leave Atlantis. I’ll program a ship to take you home. On one condition.”
“Yes?” Hanna replied.
Demos pointed to Lewis. “That you give us your wristpad.”
He held out his hand.
All of them were watching Lewis.
Were they seriously expecting him to give it up? He shrugged. “No way.”
“We can’t allow you to leave with that kind of evidence,” Heron explained.
“Still no.”
Hanna stepped forward. “And if we were to give it to you—”
“No, Hanna,” Lewis said, his voice firm. “I’m not giving it to them.”
She ignored him. “If we were to give it to you, what would prevent you from imprisoning us anyway?”
“His daughter,” Kaya answered. She glared at her father. “If you lie to them, you lose me. I’ll never speak to you again.”
“She looks like she means it,” Weed Chin added.
One of the other Erasers elbowed him.
“You have my word, Kaya,” Heron replied.
His word? What good was that? Lewis wasn’t giving up his dad’s wristpad. This wasn’t just some gadget. Of all people, Hanna should have known what it meant to him. To his father. To all three of them, really. She should’ve understood. So why was she offering up his most prized possession? This wasn’t the kind of deal he’d imagined.
He should’ve been more specific with those gods.
He looked down at the wristpad.
Sure, he could give it to the Erasers, and then the two of them could return to the surface and tell their story and swear it was all true. But no one would believe them. Not without proof. Forget what people would say about him. He’d never hear the end of it at school, but he could deal with that. The worst part was that the world would continue thinking his dad was some kind of crackpot, and he’d never be able to convince anyone to try to rescue his father. His dad would be trapped in Atlantis forever. How could he give the wristpad away? If the files on the device were released, his dad would be part of history—one of the great explorers of their century. Of any century! Everyone would learn about him in school, not make fun of him.
The Atlantis journals would change everything.
And yet Lewis could never save his father’s reputation if he spent the rest of his life locked inside a cell beneath miles of ocean. He’d never get home again. He’d end up bald and covered with warts.
Giving up the wristpad was their way home.
Slowly, he slipped the device over his hand. A thin layer of grime coated the underside, covering something that had been etched into the metal. He scratched it off with his thumbnail and revealed three letters: MLG. His own initials, engraved into his father’s precious wristpad. His dad really did care about him. Of course he did. In a way, Lewis had been with him the whole time. Lewis squeezed the device in his hands as if he were giving his father one final hug. Then he handed the wristpad, and the Atlantis journals, to the Erasers.
20
Buried in the Muck
Kaya sat on the glass floor with her back against a railing. The Sun People stood apart, watching her father and the other Erasers. She still couldn’t believe her father was really one of them. Her amazing, forgiving, loving father. The man who made her breakfast and helped her with her schoolwork and somehow prevented himself from yelling back at her when she shouted at him just because she needed to shout at someone. How could he be an Eraser? How could he agree with that old creep who wanted to throw her friends back in jail?
Her dad was standing at some kind of control station. Next to him, the ramp spiraled down into the huge factory. Demos stood beside him.
A series of high-pitched tones rang out.
Far below them, one of the ships backed out of its dock. Kaya watched through the glass floor as it floated up the ramp. There must have been thousands of ships down below. What if every one of them were to float up and out of this factory? She imagined them packed with soldiers. Thousands of warships and thousands of warfighters rising up out of this beautiful factory for their long journey to the surface.
This was the vision of the High Council, according to Naxos.
A vision that would lead only to destruction of the world above.
And maybe their world down here, as well.
She shuddered.
“Notice that no driver is necessary,” her dad boasted. “That was my contribution. Impressive, isn’t it?”
He was proud of himself? He should’ve been ashamed.
“Good for you,” Hanna said. “We figured out driverless vehicles decades ago.”
Demos had stopped paying attention to her father. He was studying the Sun People, and he wore the wristpad for all to see, as if he were taunting Lewis. He whistled at the device, hoping to switch it on. “How does it work?”
“You have to breathe on it,” Lewis said.
“You need a password, too,” Hanna added. “What is it, Lewis?”
“Cantaloupe,” he replied.
“Don’t say it too loud, though,” Hanna noted.
Demos lifted the wristpad to his chin, breathed on the device, and whispered, “Cantaloupe.” Nothing happened. He tried again. “Cantaloupe.”
The People of the Sun smiled. Oh. This was a joke. She nearly laughed as the old man whispered the word over and over. Finally, Demos caught on; he glared at them.
“Just tap the surface,” Hanna said with a shrug.
“That’s enough,” Kaya’s dad said, motioning to her friends. “Follow me.”
All around the base of the huge glass dome were darkwater docks. Transfer chambers, her father had called them. As Kaya understood it, a vehicle would move into one of these spaces, and its riders would secure themselves inside. Then a door would drop into place, seal the chamber off from the rest of the huge room, and allow it to fill with water. This wasn’t an easy engineering job. The water in the chamber had to match the pressure of the deep sea, her father said. Kaya caught herself marveling at all this incredible tech, and beginning to feel a hint of pride that her father was involved.
No. Never mind the beautiful engineering. If these ships had been built to explore the seas, and the skies above, she’d be happy to marvel at them. But these were war machines. And these Atlanteans were called Erasers for a reason.
The Sun People were looking at her. She didn’t move. She lacked the energy. Yet she forced herself to smile at them. Soon they’d be gone, and she’d never see them again. At least they’d be safe, though. At least they’d get home.
Maybe they could even warn their people.
Maybe there was some way to stop the war the Erasers were planning.
The shining warship drifted up the ramp and into the nearest darkwater dock. The front was shaped like the head of a humpback whale, but with a large glass panel stretching across the bow and lights in place of the huge beast’s eyes. The body widened toward the middle, then shrank like the tail of a fish, tapering to a narrow point. The shell was made mostly of Atlantean glass; the whole thing shimmered and shined like some kind of beautiful crystalline egg.
Hanna walked around the ship, inspecting it. Only the base of the hull was metal, and she bent down to stare at something on the underside of the ship. Kaya finally walked over, watched as Hanna studied a rectangular glass panel in the otherwise metallic base. “What’s that?” she asked.
“An escape hatch,” her dad explained. “The passengers will wear dive suits in case of emergency. If
there’s damage to the ship, they can exit safely into the water.”
“Kind of like soldiers parachuting out of a helicopter,” Lewis said.
“Yeah,” Hanna replied, standing upright again, “but at the bottom of the ocean.”
“They can also go through these hatches and come back in if they need to inspect the outside of the ship or merely explore the surrounding water,” Kaya’s dad said.
“Do we get suits?” Lewis asked.
“No,” Demos snapped.
“This isn’t a tour,” Weed Chin snarled. “Inside. Now.”
Kaya winced. Why did they have to be so rude? What was wrong with them?
She wanted to say goodbye privately, but the green-chinned Eraser rushed over and stood between them before she could get close. “Onto the ship,” he ordered.
“The ship will take you safely to the surface,” Demos added.
Kaya looked to her father. “Can I at least say goodbye to them?”
“You just did,” Demos answered. “Stop acting like a child.”
Her father spun to face the old man. “Sir, that’s my daughter.”
“Your daughter has caused us a great deal of trouble, Heron. By helping these invaders, she endangered the very existence of Atlantis. I believe we have been lenient. Need I remind you that others on the High Council might not be so forgiving?”
Kaya started to reply, but her dad cut her off. “Of course, sir,” her father answered. “You’re absolutely right.”
Did he actually agree with Demos?
Had she really threatened the safety of Atlantis?
“But, Dad, I—”
“Enough, Kaya,” he said. Then he pointed to the sleek, gleaming warship and ordered the Sun People inside. “Leave us before we change our minds.”
The same Eraser tried to intervene again; the woman with the short blond hair. “Demos, sir, I don’t think—”
“I warned you already,” the old man replied. “I will not do it again.”
The woman said nothing more.
“Kaya,” Hanna began, “I’m sorry—”
“No, I’m sorry,” she answered.
“Thank you,” Hanna added, “for everything—”
“Go,” Kaya’s father said. “Now.”
Poor Lewis was still looking at the wristpad. Hanna was already a step into the warship, and she turned back and grabbed his sleeve at the shoulder, pulling him inside. He moved, wrestling free of her grip, but he didn’t beg for the device. His jaw was tight, his face stern. If anything, Kaya thought he looked determined, as if he’d come to some kind of decision.
The door to the warship closed.
A glass pane dropped down from above, sealing off the darkwater dock from the factory floor. Water flooded the chamber, rising up around the ship. Her friends were safe now. Their path to freedom would open soon. Their path home. This was what they wanted. What she wanted. Yet Kaya couldn’t watch. She hurried back toward the train to wait for her father there. And then what? Back home? Back to her supposedly normal life?
No. That was impossible.
Nothing would ever be the same.
Kaya stopped outside the entrance to the tunnel.
Her breathing was quick and shallow.
Her father crossed the factory floor.
He stood at her side as the train waited with open doors. “Let’s go, Kaya. Let’s get you home.”
She turned to catch one last glimpse of her friends.
The warship had already disappeared into the darkness of the deep.
Demos stared up and out through the dome with the other Erasers at his side.
As she followed her dad to the train, and thought of the warship soaring up out of the sea toward the sun, it struck her—the glaring flaw in this plan. The Erasers weren’t merely trying to keep the secret of the surface world from the people of Atlantis. They were working to make sure that as few of the Sun People as possible knew Atlantis existed.
So why had they given her friends a warship?
The technology of the two civilizations was nothing alike, according to Hanna. The People of the Sun didn’t even have basic gravity drives. And yet her friends were traveling in an Atlantean warship. The other Sun People would know immediately that this vehicle was from another world.
Forget the wristpad, the journals.
The warship itself was proof that Atlantis existed.
Suddenly, Kaya understood the truth.
The Erasers had never meant for that ship to reach the surface.
Her friends would never get home alive.
She stopped.
Her father was waiting in the doorway of the train. “What is it, Kaya?” he asked.
Did he know? Was this part of his plan?
“N-nothing,” she lied.
The tunnel back to the ridge stretched out in front of the train. The deepwater suits still hung on the wall nearby, outside the room with the pool. The suits looked far more advanced than the one she’d left back in Edgeland. Probably faster, too.
The beginnings of a plan were forming in her mind. But it wouldn’t work with him here.
She faked a smile and walked toward her dad. He stepped inside the train, turned, and sat. He started to pat the seat next to him, then pulled back his hand, unsure of himself. But Kaya had no intention of sitting there. Or anywhere else on the train. She placed one foot inside, whistled the six-note tune to set it in motion, and leaped back as the door closed.
The shuttle sped away as her father banged desperately on the glass.
The train was fast, and would return in a few minutes.
Kaya checked the suits quickly, then hurried back to the main floor. The Erasers would’ve heard the train leave—they’d assume she and her dad were gone. She stopped a safe distance away, careful not to be seen. Below her, several more warships were rising up the ramp. Demos was directing the others. The group was huddled on the opposite side of the factory, listening to his orders, but sound carried well in the space, and she heard him clearly enough.
“You are to track and destroy that vehicle,” he said. “It will be disappointing to lose one of our ships, but I want every scrap of them buried in the muck and detritus of the seafloor.”
21
Never out of Range
Lewis rubbed his forearm where the wristpad should have been and stared out through the glass. There wasn’t much to see. The water all around them was dark and lifeless. Hanna was obviously worried about him; she kept asking if he was okay.
“I’m fine,” he said.
And he would be fine. He’d decided something back at the factory, as he’d stood inside the ship, looking out at the Erasers, and Kaya, and the fantastic dome, and Atlantis hidden in the distant ridge. He was not going to let his father’s work or his discovery go unrecognized, with or without the wristpad. People could laugh and mock him and call him crazy for the rest of his life. He didn’t care. He was going to tell his father’s story—their story. Hanna’s, too. He’d shout it, sing it, even dance it if he had to. He’d tell it to anyone and everyone who would listen.
The truth about Atlantis would live.
His father would survive, too. Naxos would take care of him and get him to the healer. Hopefully, Kaya would talk some sense into her dad, and he’d help. The Atlanteans weren’t all war-crazy like Demos. Mrs. Finkleman seemed to have a little sympathy for them. But if needed, Lewis would return to Atlantis and rescue his father himself. Whether it took him a month, a year, or even a decade, he’d find his way back.
And next time he’d be ready.
He’d bring more snacks, too. Maybe a pair of swim fins.
But this was all ahead of him—or them—in the future. What mattered now was that they were going home. Lewis tried to steer his thoughts in that direction. He pictured his house, his room, his stepfather and little brother, and most of all, his mother. When he closed his eyes, he could almost hear her voice.
“You with me?” Hanna asked. Sh
e was gritting her teeth. Her eyes were darting back and forth, staring out into the water.
He exhaled. “I’m here.”
“That was a pretty good bluff, you know,” Hanna said. “The whole wristpad thing.”
He kind of wished his dad had seen him in action. “Thanks,” he said. “It wouldn’t have worked without you.”
“The ‘smart stuff,’ you mean?”
“Was that all true?”
“Mostly,” she said with a shrug. “Radio waves don’t actually travel well at all through the water, though, so that was kind of a gamble.”
“Kind of?”
“I had to think of something, and they didn’t seem too knowledgeable about the electromagnetic spectrum,” she explained. She stopped staring out the window and studied the dashboard of the strange ship. “I don’t want to freak you out or anything, Lewis, but we’re not quite golden yet.”
“What? Why not?”
She sat in one of the two chairs at the dashboard. A small touch pad extended out from each armrest. She placed her hand on one of them and slid it forward. The ship turned gently to the right. Hanna laid her hands down on both pads, then slid them forward at the same time. The warship accelerated. “Nice,” she said.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Demos said it’s programmed to take us to the surface.”
“Right,” she said. “That’s the problem.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“Do you really think they just gave us one of their most advanced warships? There’s nothing like this on the surface, Lewis. This ship is proof that Atlantis is real. We could reverse-engineer this thing and basically steal one of their best inventions. You don’t give your best toys to your enemies, Lewis. No way they’re really letting us go.”
Okay. This was bad. He jumped into the other seat. “What now?”
“Well, I figure if I can learn how to steer her—”
A dull thunk sounded below them, as if something had struck the underside of the hull.
“Whoa,” Lewis said. “What was that?”
They looked out through the glass. The one area they couldn’t see was the bottom of the ship—that was made of metal. “I don’t know. We couldn’t have hit anything. Or at least I don’t think so.” She held her hands out over the ship’s wide instrument panel. The surface was crowded with knobs and dials, switches and tablets. “I was looking for cameras. I keep forgetting—no screens. No cameras, either.”