D. MacHale - The Lost City of Faar

Courtney took the newest journal from Mark and looked at it.

“This isn’t like the last one,” she said with curiosity. “The last journal was written on that green, waterproof paper. This is… different.”

She was right. Mark had been so nervous about Andy Mitchell, he hadn’t even noticed it himself. This new journal was much more like Bobby’s first journals that he wrote on Denduron. The pages were brown and crusty looking like parchment.

“You’re right,” was all Mark could say.

“Okay, we gotta wait till after school to read,” she said, handing him back the pages. “Meet me out front after last period and we’ll get back to my basement. Okay?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

“Man, I hope I can wait that long. I’m dying! Don’t peek, all right?”

“No problem. I won’t peek,” said Mark, wondering how he was going to keep Andy Mitchell from peeking all day.

Mark and Courtney then separated and went about their normal school day. Mark did his best to immerse himself in school-work to get his mind off his dilemma. A few times while classes were passing, he caught sight of Andy Mitchell. Mitchell wouldn’t say a word. He’d just give Mark this exaggerated wink as if to say: “We’ve got a secret, right, pal?” Mark would just turn away and cringe.

After school Mark and Courtney met up just as planned. They barely said anything to each other as they walked to Courtney’s house. A dozen times Mark started to tell her about Andy Mitchell, but couldn’t find the right words. He saw how excited Courtney was about reading the new journal, and didn’t want to crash her mood.

When they got to the house, Mark decided that he wouldn’t say anything about Mitchell until after they read Bobby’s journal. In spite of all the extra stuff that was going on, Mark was excited to find out what happened to their friend. So without Courtney realizing that a momentous decision had been reached, the two sat down on the dusty couch to jump once again into the world that had become Bobby’s.

“I’m shaking,” said Courtney as she held the pages.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” countered Mark, though he was shaking for a whole bunch more reasons than Courtney.

Luckily for him, the time for talking was over. It was time to read.

Oh, man, I gotta apologize to you guys. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. It’s just that things are happening fast now and I haven’t had many chances to write. That last journal was getting pretty long and I wanted to send it before something happened to it, or to me. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.

I’m writing this new journal from a place where I finally feel safe. At least for now, anyway. I won’t tell you where it is yet because the events that led me here were pretty wild. I’d rather recount things as they happened and not jump ahead. It’s easier that way. But I’ll tease you a little by saying you’re not going to believe where I am. Now let’s get back to where I left you hanging.

When Magorran hit Grallion, I felt it rather than saw it. The impact sent a giant Shockwave throughout the habitat that knocked most people off their feet, including me and Uncle Press. The habitat shuddered and shook and a horrible grinding sound filled the air as the two giant ships collided. I couldn’t see it, but I could imagine the destruction that was happening at the point of impact. I could only hope that it wouldn’t be so devastating as to send both habitats to the bottom.

Moments before the collision the aquaneers had thrown off most of the lines that secured Grallion, so that when the habitats hit, we would be pushed back instead of holding firm. If not for that move, there would have been way more damage. Also, the pilot of Grallion threw the engines into full reverse, which helped to soften the blow. Still, that wasn’t enough to avoid the crash. Even after the collision, Magorran kept coming. The big habitat was powerful and moving fast. It pushed Grallion across the surface of the ocean like a toy. A really big toy. The only way to stop it was to stop Magorran.

Once we realized we weren’t going to sink, Uncle Press helped me to my feet. There was a strong vibration from the force of the charging habitat and it was difficult to stand. Up till now I never even felt like I was on a ship. Now I felt like I was on theTitanic, and it was banging against the iceberg.

But there was one other thought that made me even more nervous. When something this huge and bad happened it could only mean one thing: Saint Dane was in the house. The look on Uncle Press’s face told me he was thinking the same thing. This accident was classic Saint Dane. I could almost hear the wheels turning in Uncle Press’s head as he calculated what the crash might mean to Grallion, to Cloral, to Halla, and to us. Finally he announced, “We’re on the wrong habitat.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

He wasn’t. Uncle Press took off running toward the impact point. This was insane. The safest place to be was far away from where the two habitats had collided. But being safe wasn’t usually high on Uncle Press’s To Do list. He was headed right for the most dangerous place on board, and I was right after him. We ran past several vators who were fleeing from the bow to a safer part of the habitat. There was a name for those guys. Smart. We weren’t being smart; we were headed toward disaster.

The closer we got to the bow, the more damage there was. The deck had buckled and split. I could look down through jagged tears and see below to the pipes and struts that held Grallion together. It got tricky dodging around these open fissures. One wrong step and we could have fallen a few stories into the guts of Grallion. It was like running over a rickety old footbridge where the bottom could fall out at any moment. Still, Uncle Press wouldn’t stop.

When we got near the bow, we saw the full extent of the devastation. Each of the two habitats were crushed where they impacted. It was a twisted mess of beams, girders, and decking. This no longer looked like a habitat. It looked like a vast, floating junkyard.

“Now what?” I asked.

Uncle Press pointed to several aquaneers who were leaping on board Magorran. They were led by Wu Yenza, the chief aquaneer. It was a daring jump because even though the decks of the two habitats were only a few feet apart, they were both still moving and grinding against each other.

“Follow them,” said Uncle Press, which was the last thing I wanted to hear. But he didn’t give me time to think. He ran to the edge of the deck, hesitated only a second, then leaped from Grallion onto Magorran.

“Let’s go, Bobby!” he yelled.

Imagine standing on an ice floe as it hurtled down a river and you had to jump onto another ice floe that was going just as fast. That’s pretty much what this felt like. The gap between the two decks was only a few feet, but it felt like a mile. I looked down. Big mistake. I could see through four stories down of twisted wreckage to the frothing white water. Falling would really, really hurt.

“It’s cake, Bobby!” shouted Uncle Press. “C’mon!”

Cake. Yeah, right. I inched as close as I could to the edge without getting dizzy. The deck lurched under my feet. This was definitelynotcake! I waited until Grallion settled, took a breath — and jumped.

I cleared the chasm by a good five feet. Okay, maybe itwascake.

“Now what?” I asked, trying to sound as if I were more in control of myself than I really was.

“The pilot house,” answered Uncle Press. “Let’s find out who’s driving this bus.”

The pilot house where the habitat was controlled wasn’t far from which we boarded. Like the pilot house on Grallion, this was an enclosed structure where the pilot, the first mate, and a few other aquaneers would send the commands that controlled the habitat. Whatever the problem was with Magorran, the logical place to start looking for it was the pilot house.