D. MacHale - The Lost City of Faar

“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 was 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.