The Falcon's Feather

by Trudi Trueit

“No. No! It has to be here!” Cruz lifted his arm to peer up into the silver sleeve. He shook it, and this time, something did fall out: a black-and-white feather. Catching a wisp of a breeze, the striped feather hovered between Emmett and Cruz for a moment before drifting down, down, down to land on the cold, hard floor.

  “A FEATHER?” Lani scrunched up her nose. “That’s it?”

  “This is it.” Cruz held the feather close to the camera so she could get a good look. “Professor Ishikawa thinks it came from a gyrfalcon.”

  “A jer-what?”

  “Gyrfalcon,” said Emmett.

  Cruz shook his head. “I’d never heard of it, either.”

  “It’s an arctic bird—the largest falcon on Earth,” explained Sailor.

  “Cool,” said Lani. “So what does the gyrfalcon feather mean?”

  Ever since leaving the seed vault two days ago, Cruz had been racking his brain over that very question. Everything had pointed to the cipher being inside the seed packet, and when it hadn’t been, it was a crushing disappointment. “No clue,” he answered.

  “It has to be a symbol for something,” she insisted. “Let’s see…feathers float…feathers get ruffled. I’m sure we can figure it out if we think it through.”

  Cruz groaned. That’s all he’d been doing since Thursday. He had no think left in him.

  “Birds of a feather…light as a feather…feathers are quills…” Lani was still brainstorming. “Hey, what about that Freyja person your mom mentioned? Remember, she said—”

  “If you run into trouble, go to Freyja Skloke.” Cruz knew it by heart.

  “Well, if this isn’t trouble, I don’t know what is.” Lani was twisting a lock of hair. “All you have to do is—”

  “Do an internet search,” finished Sailor. “And when that turns up nothing, you search the population databases for Greenland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, and the Faroe and Åland Islands.”

  Cruz sighed. “Guess what we’ve been doing for the past forty-eight hours?”

  “We found a Freyja Skyberg and a Freyja Sklar,” said Emmett. “And what was the one from Stockholm?”

  “Frieda Skall,” said Sailor.

  Lani scowled. “You mean…?”

  “There is no Freyja Skloke,” bit Cruz. It came out harsher than he’d intended, but he was frustrated. “Maybe there once was, seven years ago, but not anymore. Either she isn’t from this part of the world or she moved or—”

  “She carked it.” Sailor again.

  “Died?” Lani dropped her hand and her twist of hair quickly unwound. “Nebula?”

  “Probably,” said Emmett.

  “Maybe,” corrected Cruz.

  “You really are stuck,” said Lani.

  Cruz spun the feather between his thumb and index finger until the black-and-white vane became a gray blur. “Yep.”

  It would be one thing if Cruz could skip this piece of the cipher and go back for it later. But they all knew that was impossible. In her journal, his mother had said he could unlock the third clue only when she had confirmed the second piece of the cipher was genuine, and so on. He had to go in order. And without specific instructions from Cruz on where to go next, Captain Iskandar had no choice but to resume their original course. Orion was now navigating southwest through the Norwegian Sea to Iceland, leaving Svalbard, and maybe even the second piece of the cipher, behind.

  Cruz looked at his friends, scrolling through names on their tablets. Emmett could have been working on Lumagine and Sailor could have been harvesting veggies in the garden, but instead, both were spending their Saturday double-checking the population databases for Freyja Skloke. Lani was nibbling on her knuckle the way she always did when she was deep in thought. They all looked as stressed as Cruz felt. He laid the feather on his nightstand. “Lani, thanks for the care package.”

  “Huh? Oh yeah…you’re welcome.”

  “Everything was great.” Well, what little he’d gotten of it. His friends had helped themselves.

  “The jelly was yummy,” said Sailor.

  “Banana bread is my favorite,” added Emmett.

  “Sure is,” snorted Cruz. “I think I got one slice—”

  “Sorry the cookies were burned,” said Lani.

  “Were they? I didn’t notice.” Cruz’s white lie got an eye roll from Emmett.

  “Really? ’Cause Haych said they were a little on the crispy side—”

  He stiffened. “Haych?”

  “I had some extras I couldn’t fit in the box, so…”

  “You gave them to your boyfriend.” It was out before he could stop it.

  “Cruz!”

  He knew he sounded jealous, but he wasn’t. Okay, maybe he was, but not because he wanted to be Lani’s boyfriend. It went deeper than that. Beyond a crush. Haych got to see Lani at school every day. He got to go horseback riding with her and discuss robotics and eat her charred cookies. He got to be her friend. And maybe, soon, the new kid with the new name would get to be her best friend. Cruz knew he wasn’t helping anything by snapping at her. “Sorry, Lani. I didn’t mean it.”

  She flicked back the lock of Moondust hair and smiled. “It’s all right.”

  Cruz’s communications pin sounded a ping. “Fanchon to Cruz Coronado.”

  He sat up. “Cruz here.”

  “Can I see you in the tech lab?”

  “Sure. When do y—”

  “Now. If you can.”

  “I’ll be right up.” Cruz glanced at his roommate, who was giving him a pleading look. “Can I bring Emmett and Sailor?”

  “Uh…yes, but no one else, please.”

  “O-okay.” He glanced at Lani. “Cruz, out.”

  “That was pretty mysterious,” said Lani. “I wonder what she wants?”

  “We’ll let you know.” Cruz reached for the feather and slid it into a front pocket of his uniform. “Let’s go.”

  It took less than five minutes for the trio to get to the tech lab on the fourth deck. Sidril met them in her usual crisp white lab coat, a tablet tucked into the crook of her arm.

  “What’s up?” asked Cruz.

  “Some rather interesting developments. I’ll let Fanchon fill you in.” Sidril turned toward the vast canyon of cubicles. “Fanchon! They’re here!”

  An arm appeared from the center of the labyrinth. “Helloooo!”

  Cruz, Emmett, and Sailor wove their way to her. Entering the small station, Cruz saw his UCC helmet sitting on a workbench. It was hooked up to a black triangular computer. “Thanks for coming so quickly,” said Fanchon. She was wearing a leopard-print head scarf, a black kimono with red poppies over jeans, and a pair of black flip-flops. “I’ve been running diagnostics, trying to pinpoint the cause of the helmet failure. It’s taken me a while but I’ve traced it to a bug in my program that allowed for code injection into the UCC. Malware was uploaded, directing the UCC to disable the onboard rebreathing system shortly after the translation protocol had been disengaged.”

  Cruz wrinkled his brow. “So you’re saying…?”

  “Sabotage.”

  The hair on Cruz’s arms stood up.

  “I knew it,” hissed Emmett.

  Sailor clasped her hands. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive,” said the tech lab chief. “Whoever did this was no amateur. It’s taken us days to find the malware. It was well hidden.”

  And meant for me, Cruz thought.

  “It’s bad enough to deliberately damage my work, but to jeopardize an explorer in the process? That’s unacceptable and unforgivable.” Fanchon’s voice shook with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Cruz.”

  Cruz wanted to tell her that she had it all wrong. That someone was out to get him and she had gotten caught in the middle, but then he’d have to explain why. “It’s okay, Fanchon,” he said. “It wasn�
�t your fault.”

  “I should have caught it. That’s my job. I should have—”

  “You couldn’t have known.” Cruz had been the victim of a hacker, too, and it had nearly cost him his spot at the Academy. Like Fanchon, he had blamed himself, as if somehow he could have prevented Renshaw McKittrick from targeting him.

  “I’ll be making a preliminary report to the captain and Dr. Hightower,” said Fanchon. “While Sidril and I continue to investigate, I would appreciate your cooperation in keeping it quiet. The saboteur may be on board Orion, and I don’t want to tip my hand.”

  Cruz, Sailor, and Emmett nodded.

  Going up on his toes, Cruz looked around at the lab filled with flammable chemicals, fragile experiments, and heavy equipment. He wanted to warn Fanchon that poking around where Nebula was concerned could be fatal, but again, he kept quiet. The more he revealed, the more he’d have to explain. Plus, the more Fanchon knew, the more danger she would be in.

  Cruz put his hand on the helmet. “You can repair the UCC, though, can’t you?”

  “I can, but”—Fanchon pursed her lips—“I don’t know if I should. If adding the UCC to the rebreather’s computer system makes it more vulnerable to hacking maybe I need to rethink the technology—”

  “You have to fix it. If only you could have been there in the bay when I talked to the whales, you would have seen how well the translator worked. It was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m even thinking about cetacean conservation as a career.”

  “That’s wonderful, Cruz. Truly, it is. But…”

  The word hung in the air like an arrow in slow motion. Cruz hated that word: “but.” Rarely did anything good ever follow it.

  “Fanchon?” Cruz swallowed hard. “Are you giving up on the UCC?” She shook her head, but only once, and Cruz could tell by her pinched face that she was torn. Fanchon Quills was considering abandoning the most important work she’d ever done—might ever do—and it was because of him. Naturally, Cruz couldn’t tell her that. He could say nothing to the brilliant scientist whom he liked and admired and who, with her remarkable invention, had changed his life, possibly his future.

  And it was pure torture.

  * * *

  “ARE YOU TRYING TO PUNCH A HOLE in the hull, mate? For the second time, that’s the aft robotic arm, not the port fore camera.”

  Cruz drew back his hand. “Sorry, Tripp. I guess my mind is somewhere else.”

  “I’ll say.” From Ridley’s copilot’s seat, Tripp tapped his computer screen. “We have covered quite a bit of material. How about disengaging the charger and we’ll call it a day?”

  Wiping sweat from his brow, Cruz turned to check the gauges. They indicated the sub’s solar batteries were fully charged. He shut off the charging unit. When he spun back, Tripp was staring at him, his arms folded across his chest. “You wanna talk about it?”

  “Talk about…the robotics?”

  Tripp stroked his chin. “I meant, talk about what’s bothering you.”

  “Nothing’s bothering me.”

  “Come on. What is it? Schoolwork? Friends?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “A sheila?”

  Cruz felt his cheeks flush. It wasn’t a girl. “No!”

  “Then what’s the trouble?”

  “I don’t know…It’s just that…” Cruz wanted to share his troubles with Tripp, yet something held him back. Maybe Aunt Marisol was right and Tripp was one of those people on board Orion who wanted to help him, but still, he had to be careful. He supposed he could try to tell Tripp without actually telling him. “Something…unexpected happened. A big disappointment. I feel like a failure.”

  “Ah.” A head of messy brown hair nodded. “Been there myself, sad to say. Sorry.”

  It was a small comfort to know someone as accomplished as Tripp had also had his share of letdowns.

  “This…disappointment,” probed Tripp, “is there anything you can do about it?”

  “I don’t think so. At least, not now.”

  Tripp jutted out his lower lip. “Seems to me, if you can’t change it, there’s no point in worrying about it.”

  He made it sound so simple. Of course, the easygoing sub pilot had no idea how serious Cruz’s problem was or how much depended on it. “I guess,” said Cruz. “If only I hadn’t let everybody down. They were all counting on me…my dad, my aunt, Dr. Hightower…”

  “But not your mum.”

  “Huh?”

  “You didn’t mention your mum.”

  Cruz felt prickly. “Well, that’s because—”

  “Because you can’t disappoint your mum. No child can. No matter what you do, she’ll always love you.”

  But would she? Would his mother understand if he never found her cipher? It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the mini submarine.

  “You okay, mate?” Tripp was peering at him. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No…no, I’m fine.” Cruz stood up. Everything inside the shell was starting to spin. He took a couple of deep breaths. “I’d…I’d better go. It’s…uh…Funday, and I’m due in the conference room in twenty minutes.”

  “Sure. See you next week.”

  “You mean, I can come back? I didn’t screw up too badly?”

  “No worries. You’ll be a fine pilot, Cruz, if you can remember to keep your mind on the here and now, on what has to be done. Distractions only…distract you.” He laughed. “Don’t quote me on that. Hooroo.”

  “Hooroo.”

  On his way back to his cabin, Cruz paused in front of Taryn’s door. He was tired and not exactly in a Funday mood. Maybe if he begged a little, she would let him out of whatever activity she’d planned. Probably not, but it was worth a try. He knocked.

  “Come in!”

  Cruz stuck his head in. Taryn was standing near her desk, holding her tablet. Hubbard bounded toward him. Cruz reached to scratch the Westie behind the ear.

  “I was about to call you,” said Taryn. “Your Open Sesame band alerted me to your fever.”

  Cruz lifted his wrist to check his band. “I have a fever?”

  “Uh-huh—99.8.”

  “I don’t feel sick. It’s probably a false alarm. My OS band must be broken.”

  Striding across the room, she put a hand to his forehead. “Feels like 99.8 to me.”

  He laughed. There was no possible way she could know that. “I was in the sub bay. It’s hot down there—”

  “Sore throat?”

  “No.”

  “Congestion?”

  “No.”

  “Headache?”

  “No.” He felt a tingly tightness across his forehead. “Maybe a small one.”

  “I’m ordering Chef’s special green juice for you. It’ll knock down whatever germ you’re battling.”

  “Green juice?” He made a face. “Taryn, I don’t think—”

  “To bed, explorer.” She turned him toward the door. “Take Hubbard with you. He’s a good nurse. I’ll keep a watch on your vitals and bring you dinner later. If you feel worse, you’re to call me or sick bay immediately.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing—”

  “That’s not a request.”

  Too weary to argue, Cruz slapped his thigh. “Come on, Hub.” The little white dog eagerly trotted with him into the hallway.

  Back in his room, Cruz got into his pajamas. Slipping under his comforter, he patted the left side of his mattress. Hubbard jumped up and, instead of snuggling beside Cruz’s waist, took most of the pillow. Before heading off to Taryn’s Funday activity, Emmett mumbled something about bringing back some green juice for Cruz. Great. Two big glasses of green goo to drink!

  Through the porthole, Cruz could see the sky was a peachy pink. The sun was setting. He closed his eyes, and although he was exhausted and his head was swi
mming, sleep wouldn’t come. Tripp’s words haunted him. You can’t disappoint your mum. No child can. No matter what you do, she’ll always love you. He was right. Cruz knew his mother wouldn’t blame him if he couldn’t find her formula. Yet, somehow, knowing that only made it worse. She had sacrificed everything for the serum. And the one thing she had asked of Cruz, the only thing she had asked of him, he could not do.

  Cruz curled his fingers around the fragment of black marble resting on his chest. He knew every curve and hollow by heart. He wondered if it was the only piece he would ever find.

  “Music,” he said to his tablet on his nightstand. “Play ‘Here Comes the Sun.’ ”

  It was the first song his mother always requested their car’s computer play on their way to wherever they were going. They would sing at the top of their lungs. She’d tap her fingers against the steering wheel in time to the music while Cruz bounced in his car seat. It was a brilliant move to label the seed packet with the song title. It was something only Cruz and his father would know. But the falcon’s feather…

  That was different. Cruz didn’t know what it meant. Might never know.

  Darkness was settling over the ship. As it swallowed him, Cruz turned his head to rest a cheek against Hubbard’s back. He felt achy. Helpless. Confused. They would be leaving Norway soon, and he had no idea where he was supposed to go.

  The song ended. Beneath his head, Cruz felt the gentle rise and fall of the dog’s breathing. In the stillness, with all the other explorers gone, he was grateful the little Westie was with him. To be alone would have been more than he could bear. “I wish you could help me, Mom,” he whimpered into the soft cushion of Hubbard’s fur. “I’m so lost. What do I do?”

  But no answer came.

  OVER the next couple of days, Cruz did his best to follow Tripp’s advice. He tried to keep his mind focused on the here and now, on what had to be done. And what had to be done was schoolwork. In Monsieur Legrand’s fitness and survival class, Cruz hiked across his first glacier. Sort of. Their instructor had programmed the mini CAVE to replicate Vatnajökull, the largest glacier in Iceland. In the simulator, the explorers practiced walking on the ice with crampons, probing the snow with their ice axes for cracks and snow bridges, and tying butterfly knots to rope themselves together.