by Trudi Trueit
The lock was open. Lani slipped it out of the holes, lifted the latch, and slid the heavy bolt to one side. Carefully opening the silo door, she stepped inside. A single ray of afternoon sunlight shining through an opening in the roof gave the place a spooky glow. Lani walked to the center of the cracked cement floor. She did a slow circle, taking in the curved metal walls and the round funnel-shaped roof. They saw nothing else to indicate that anyone had ever been there. No chair. No ropes. No trash.
No clues.
Cruz’s heart sank. “There’s nothing there.”
“Don’t rush me,” said Lani, her voice echoing. “We’ve just begun.” He saw a beam of light shoot out in front of her and sweep across the room.
“Flashlight,” whispered Emmett. “Smart.”
“It’s more than that,” said Lani. “I added an ultra-sensitive thermal imager that measures heat absorptivity, so if anyone has touched anything here within the last twenty-four hours it’ll show up on my screen—and here we go.” Moving to the perimeter, she knelt next to the curved wall. “I’ve got a hit.”
“Lani, we’ve got company,” said a male voice that wasn’t Cruz’s or Emmett’s.
“Thanks, Tiko,” said Lani. “Can you tell who it is?”
“Nope. They came from another entrance.”
“There’s another entrance?”
“Apparently,” said Tiko.
“Copy that,” said Lani. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Not in a minute,” barked Cruz. “Now.”
“Look at this!” Lani’s light had found a crevice in the cement. Two crossed knives were stuck, points down, into the large crack. As Lani pulled them out, Cruz saw they were actually plain silverware, a butter knife and a fork. They were bound together in the middle by something. Was that wire? Lani brought them closer, and Cruz’s heart skipped. The wire was actually a silver chain—a necklace. Dangling from the middle of the chain were two goldfish, each swimming in a different direction.
“That’s my mom’s,” cried Cruz. “It’s the constellation Pisces, you know, the two fish. My dad made it for my mom’s birthday. She was a Pisces, born February 22. After Mom died, Dad always wore it. Always. He wouldn’t take it off unless—”
They heard the crash of metal.
“Uh-oh.” That was Lani.
“Lani, get out of there!” yelled Cruz.
“I’m getting!” She was rushing toward the door. The camera was jostling, the image cutting in and out. They heard quick footsteps. Saw a tall figure. An arm was reaching for Lani. She pulled away. The camera tipped. The flashlight fell. Lani screamed. Cruz’s screen went black.
“WHAT happened?” Cruz bolted from his chair.
“Emmett, can you get her back? Do something!”
“I’m trying, I’m trying.” Emmett’s fingers were a blur.
“Hurry!” Cruz broke out in a cold sweat. Time was critical. Lani might be fierce and stubborn and tough, but she was a little small for her age. She would be no match for the man in the cowboy boots. A helpless feeling washed over him. “We could call my aunt…or 9-1-1. Or Tiko. Yes, call Tiko, Emmett. He’s in my contact list. No, 9-1-1 first, then Tiko.”
“Okay…wait…you’ve got a call coming in,” cried Emmett. “It’s Lani!”
Cruz grabbed his screen and nearly put his fist through it punching the icon. “Lani? Are you there? Are you okay?”
He could see the back wall of the silo but not his best friend. Where was she?
Oh no! Had Nebula kidnapped her, too?
Suddenly, Lani’s face appeared. She peered into her phone screen, her headset around her neck. Her eyes were dark pools, and she was breathing hard. “I’m all right, Cruz.”
“What’s going on? Who grabbed you?”
Grimacing, Lani rotated her phone screen.
Cruz’s jaw fell. “Aunt Marisol? What are you doing there?”
His aunt’s mouth was so tight Cruz couldn’t see a speck of pink lipstick. “I was about to ask Leilani the same question.”
“She…uh…sort of found my secret notebook,” sighed Lani, “which I clearly need to hide in a more secret location.”
“And, Cruz, I’m more than a little disappointed in you.” Aunt Marisol was glaring into the camera. “How long have you known Nebula was behind your dad’s disappearance?”
“Uh…” Cruz shuffled his feet a few times before mumbling, “The day before Halloween. They sent me an email.”
“The day I left the ship! Cruz Sebastian, I cannot believe you’d deliberately keep something like that from me when you know how worried I’ve been—”
“I…I didn’t have a choice. Nebula’s note made it clear that if I told anyone, they’d kill Dad. What else could I do? I’m sorry, Aunt Marisol…”
“All right.” She raised a hand. “We all know, unfortunately, what Nebula has done and is capable of doing. They will stop at nothing to get what they want.” She bit her thumbnail. “And I’m assuming that what they want in exchange for your dad is the cipher pieces and journal.”
“Just the cipher,” said Cruz. “They didn’t ask for the journal. I guess they must think it was destroyed in the ice cave back in Iceland.”
“Or maybe they figure getting two pieces is enough to keep anyone from ever completing the formula,” interjected Lani.
“They’d be right,” said Cruz’s aunt. “It’s doubtful even the best Synthesis scientists could re-create your mom’s formula with only six of the eight sections. Of course, it’s frustrating to have to give up what you’ve all worked so hard to find already, but it can’t be helped.”
“Actually, we have a plan for that,” burst Emmett, his glasses hunter green ovals. “We’re going to make—”
Stretching out a foot, Cruz kicked his roommate.
“Ow!” Emmett gave him a what-did-you-do-that-for? scowl.
“Emmett means we’re going to make sure we follow Nebula’s instructions,” said Cruz, his teeth clenched. “I am supposed to be at the spice bazaar in Istanbul on November 14 to hand over the cipher. Alone.”
“I don’t like the idea of you going by yourself to the drop point,” said his aunt.
“They wouldn’t try anything in a crowded market,” said Lani.
“Don’t be so sure.”
“I’ll have my octopod,” insisted Cruz. “And Mell.”
“I’d feel better if you had someone looking out for you,” said his aunt.
“It’s too dangerous. If I do what they say, we’ll get Dad back. If I don’t…”
There was no need to complete the thought. Folding her arms, his aunt let out an exasperated sigh, and he knew she wasn’t going to let the matter go.
“Aunt Marisol, there’s something else,” said Cruz. “Lani found Mom’s Pisces necklace.”
“You did?” She turned to Lani. “Where?”
“Here.” Lani ran to the far wall. “I dropped it when I heard you coming.”
Cruz’s aunt followed with the phone in her hand, the camera pointed up. She bent to pick up the two pieces of silverware bound together with the necklace. The utensils formed an X. As the fish swung between her fingers, Cruz saw her face change. Aunt Marisol knew what he knew, that Cruz’s dad would never leave the necklace. Unless he had to.
“It’s another clue,” whispered Lani, “but we don’t know what it means. Do you?”
“No. I wish I did.” His aunt’s voice broke.
Lani placed a gentle hand over Aunt Marisol’s. “We’ll figure it out.”
If Cruz could have, he would have reached right through his tablet and given his best friend the tightest hug possible.
Aunt Marisol touched her head. “It’s starting to rain. We should get out of here. After all, we are trespassing. Cruz, I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll discuss everything, including Malcolm Rook. Your note was quite a shock, considering he is supposed to be in jail. Please watch your step.” She tried to grin. “Te quiero.”
“Love you back,” he
said. “You be careful, too.”
After hanging up, he set his tablet on his starry night desk. Emmett had pulled down one of his sloth socks and was rubbing his ankle.
“Sorry about that.” Cruz scrunched his nose. “But I knew you were going to tell my aunt about the decoy cipher.”
“So?”
“I didn’t want her to know.”
“Why not?”
“She would have tried to talk me out of it. She would have said, Suppose Nebula is one step ahead of you. What if they already know what it looks like? Is that a chance you’re willing to take? She would have said it was too risky.”
“But you don’t have a choice—”
“Yes, I do.” Cruz let out a shallow breath. “The cipher may have been my mother’s most important accomplishment, but nothing is more important than my dad’s life. I’ll make a copy of the cipher—an exact copy—for me to keep, but I’m giving the real stones to Nebula.”
“Cruz, there’s a reason your mom didn’t make copies. Let’s think about this—”
“That’s all I’ve been doing—thinking and thinking and thinking. I’m done thinking, Emmett. I’ve made up my mind.”
His roommate opened his mouth but then slowly closed it. Emmett dipped his head, the color of his frames changing from hunter green to pale blue.
Acceptance.
* * *
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Cruz was wandering down Orion’s explorers’ passage alone. He was so deep in thought, pondering his mom’s clue about what kind of animal would be at home both in the clouds and under the sea, that he almost didn’t hear his name.
Almost.
Cruz stopped. Took four steps back. Turning his head to peer into the cabin, he put a hand to his chest.
“Yes, you.” From her rocking chair, Taryn waved a crochet hook. “Got a sec?”
Cruz went toward her. He didn’t know how she managed to glide forward and back in that rocker while the ship was gently rocking side to side and not throw up. Cruz loved being on the water, but even he had a feeling that if he tried that he wouldn’t be able to keep his lunch from reappearing.
“Close the door,” said Taryn.
Meekly, Cruz obeyed. “Am I in trouble?”
She gazed up at him with a smirk. “Do I look like you’re in trouble?”
“No, but…” He didn’t finish the rest of the sentence running through his brain, which was I’m never quite sure with you. Cruz plopped down next to Hubbard, who was stretched out in his dog bed, fast asleep.
Taryn went back to her crocheting. Whatever she was making was a light-seagull-gray color, very thick, and quite large—probably a blanket.
Cruz ran his fingers through the short, soft fur on Hubbard’s neck. The sleeping dog let out a contented sigh.
“Any news about your dad?” asked Taryn.
Cruz tensed. Taryn knew his father was missing, but like most everyone else on board, she had no clue about the circumstances surrounding his disappearance. “No,” he said quietly.
“I’m so sorry. I only met him once, but I could see right away how devoted he was to you. It must be hard to soldier on. I know the two of you talked to each other quite a bit.”
Cruz felt his throat closing up. He had been trying not to think about that. After a very long minute, he managed to squeak out, “We did.”
A hand was on his shoulder. “I know. I mean, I don’t really know, but I can imagine…”
Cruz glanced up at his adviser. “Even though you’re, like…old…don’t you talk to your parents? Don’t you miss them?”
“I’m not that old.” She twisted her lips. “And my parents are gone.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” soothed Taryn. “I’m not alone. I have a family. A big one. Twenty-three kids, to be exact.”
That made him grin. She was talking about the explorers, of course.
“I worry about every single one of them. Are they homesick or lonely? Are they studying too hard or not hard enough? Are they sleeping soundly in their own beds?” She cleared her throat. “Or in the ship’s greenhouse?”
Cruz’s mouth fell open. “You knew? But how—?”
She shifted her eyebrows. “I have my ways.”
“So I guess I’m in trouble now.”
“You ought to be.” Taryn slid the crochet hook through several big loops, wound a strand of yarn over the hook, and pulled it through all the loops. She did the same move three more times. He knew she was keeping him in suspense on purpose. His dad used to do the same trick when he was deciding if and how to punish him. “But…I suppose we all need to break the rules once in a while, and if hanging out with veggies for a night with your friends is your idea of fun, I guess I could let it slide this once.”
He relaxed. “Thanks, Taryn.”
“This once.” She eyed him over the blanket. “Next time, ask permission.”
“You would have said yes?”
“No! It’s a hard floor in a hot greenhouse. You belong in your own bed.”
Cruz rolled his eyes. Naturally, she saw him.
“Eye rolling is also forbidden,” said Taryn. “Read your student handbook.”
He chuckled. Two months into the school year and Cruz still hadn’t gotten around to that little chore.
“I had an interesting chat with Dr. Hightower this morning,” said his adviser.
Cruz tried pretending he didn’t already know what she was about to say. “Yeah?”
“She says she is sending Emmett, Sailor, and you on a short Academy mission this weekend. Wouldn’t tell me what it was for or where you were going, just that she was sending the school’s jet to Barcelona and I was to make sure that the three of you were at the airport by five a.m. tomorrow.”
“Oh…really? A…a…a mission? The…the three of us? I’m sure she’ll tell us what it’s all about soon.” Cruz cringed at his bad acting.
It was Taryn’s turn to roll her eyes. Setting her blanket and yarn in the basket next to her chair, she bent forward. “Look, I know your life is…complicated. I don’t know how or why. The details aren’t important. What is important is you. The only thing you need to know is there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.” Vivid green eyes pierced his. “Got it?”
Cruz didn’t doubt she was serious. From the moment Taryn Secliff had welcomed him to the Academy, she had been clear and consistent in her guidance. He sensed an honesty about her, that she would never steer him wrong. And although he knew he couldn’t trust anyone, Cruz wanted to trust her. “Got it,” he said.
“Good. Wherever you are tomorrow night, do me a favor and call me, okay? I won’t be able to sleep unless I know you’re all right.”
Cruz promised he would.
“Thanks.” Picking up her crochet work again, Taryn glanced at the old-fashioned clock next to her made of exposed gears inside a glass dome. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have approximately seven more minutes of blissful me time before I have to give two explorers from Team Earhart a lecture about the importance of tidiness.”
Cruz gave Hubbard one last pet and got to his feet.
He heard her rocker squeak. “A word to the wise?”
“Yeah?”
“Never play poker.”
Cruz couldn’t stop grinning all the way back to his cabin. Taryn was right, as usual. He never had been much good at lying.
SETTING ONE FOOT Onto gray paver stones warmed by the desert sun, Cruz unfolded himself from the Autonomous Auto. His butt was numb. His neck was stiff. And his tongue felt like sandpaper. The flight from Barcelona to Amman on Condor, the Academy’s jet, had been smooth but long—four hours. After that, it was another three-hour drive down the Desert Highway from Amman to Wadi Musa crammed in a mini Auto Auto with broken climate controls, windshield wipers that clicked on at will, and a certain bottomless pit of a roommate who had to stop for snacks every 20 minutes. At least it was warm in Wadi Musa, the modern town built on the outskirts of the ancient city
of Petra—hot, actually. Condor’s pilot had told them that the temperatures in Jordan were unseasonably warm for late fall. It should have been around 65 degrees but was close to 80.
Sailor tucked her ponytail into her safari hat. “This is different from what I was expecting.”
Taking a swig from his water bottle, Cruz agreed. He had anticipated exploring a fairly remote desert location, but this was more like a theme park! Tourists swarmed around them, heading in from nearby hotels, restaurants, and parking lots down a stone gateway lined with flags. A sign above the main archway read WELCOME TO PETRA. Cruz, Sailor, and Emmett grabbed their backpacks from the trunk.
Cruz glanced down at his OS band. It was 10 minutes after two o’clock. He had hoped to arrive by one, but Emmett’s snack stops had put them behind. They now had less than 24 hours to locate the cipher.
“I’d like to give you more time, but I’m afraid I can’t, Cruz,” Dr. Hightower had explained. She’d called just before bedtime last night to tell him she’d arranged for a hotel so they could stay overnight near Petra. “You must be in class on Monday morning like everyone else or your professors are going to want to know why you’re not. As it is, I’m sure some of your classmates are going to be wondering where you’ve disappeared to over the weekend, as well. If they ask, tell them you accompanied Captain Iskandar ashore to make some presentations about applying to the Academy. We often ask current explorers to share their experiences with prospective students. The captain will cover for you, if necessary.”
“Okay,” said Cruz.
“You’ll have to leave Petra by no later than noon Sunday to make it back to the ship by curfew.” A fluff of white hair loomed closer to the camera. “No later, Cruz.”
“I understand, Dr. Hightower. Noon, Sunday.”
The edges of her mouth softened. “Good luck, explorer.”
“Thank you.” He tried to keep the worry he felt from creeping into his voice.
He hoped it was enough time.
Throwing his backpack over one shoulder, Cruz followed Emmett and Sailor and the rest of the crowd under the welcome arch and into a large circular courtyard. The open area was rimmed by a visitor center, a food court, and souvenir shops. People milled about, eating and drinking, inspecting the hanging T-shirts and spinning the racks of postcards. The trio headed down a brick walkway, purchased their tickets, and passed through the main gates.