Each sub floated in its own individual pen. I looked below the waterline and saw two large cylinders attached to the bottom of the sub that could only be the engines. Each sub pen had its own big door that I was sure would open when it came time to launch.
The place was pretty busy. Faarians were swarming over the submarines, preparing them for their mission. It looked like they were being fueled up because many of the vehicles had thick hoses attached to the back. These hoses came down from giant bins that were up near the ceiling. But I knew they didn’t need fueling, since they used water for power. I wondered what these snaky tubes were for, but waited for Kalaloo to explain. In all, it was a pretty impressive operation.
“We call them haulers,” Kalaloo said proudly. “They may not look like it, but at full speed they move so quickly they are nearly impossible to see.”
If that were true, then “haulers” was the perfect name because it sounded like they could really haul.
Kalaloo motioned for me to get inside one of the subs. I thought that was cool. The bubble had a door on top that was open, so I slipped down into the pilot’s seat. I felt like I was at the controls of a jet fighter, especially since the main control was a stick near my right hand, just like a jet.
“One pilot drives the hauler,” he continued. “The other navigates, controls the arm, and delivers the cargo.”
“Cargo?” asked Uncle Press.
Kalaloo pointed to the tube that ran from the bins in the ceiling down to the haulers.
“That is the main purpose of the haulers. We have used them to secretly tend Cloral’s underwater farms for generations. The back is a cargo area where we carry seed, or fertilizer, or minerals, or anything else that is needed. Right now we are loading the chemical that will save the mutated crops.”
Now it made sense. The hoses weren’t loading fuel, they were filling up on the chemical that would save the farms. These haulers were like underwater crop dusters.
“How far can they travel?” asked Uncle Press.
“With these twenty vehicles, we can cover all of Cloral,” answered Kalaloo.
That was pretty impressive. These guys knew exactly what they were doing. I was beginning to think they were going to pull this off. If their counteracting chemical actually worked, and I had to believe it would, then they were going to bring Cloral back from the brink of disaster. I couldn’t wait to see these haulers pulling out of their pens and getting on their way.
“When will you be ready to launch?” asked Uncle Press.
“Soon. They are nearly loaded and final repairs are—”
“Press!”
We all looked up to see Spader running toward us. Uh-oh. He was supposed to be on his way to Grallion with Yenza. What was he doing back here? He ran up to us all out of breath and wild-eyed.
“She’s gone,” he said, gulping for air.
“What do you mean gone?” asked Uncle Press calmly. “Is Yenza headed back to Grallion?”
“No. I mean she wasn’t there when I surfaced. Something’s happened to her.”
This was bad. My mind already jumped to the worst possible conclusion. Could Saint Dane have gotten to her? She was tough, but she had been alone up there. She would have been no match for a team of armed raiders. I pulled myself out of the hauler and jumped down between Uncle Press and Spader.
“Do you think Saint Dane got to her?” I asked.
A second later I had my answer, but it didn’t come from Uncle Press. There was a low, far-off rumble. It sounded like an explosion. We all exchanged looks, then Uncle Press turned to Kalaloo.
“Get the haulers out now!” he shouted.
Kalaloo turned to his team and started barking orders. “Don’t load them all! We have to launch!”
Uncle Press ran for the door. We followed right behind him. The three of us blasted outside just as two more explosions sounded. They were coming from outside the dome. They sounded close, too.
Several Faarians stood still, looking around in confusion. They had never experienced anything like this before. As I looked at their faces, my heart went out to them because I knew it was only going to get worse from here.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” I asked.
“I’m afraid the party just started,” said Uncle Press.
JOURNAL #8
(CONTINUED)
CLORAL
The booming explosions were coming closer. There were more of them now, and it was getting scary. The ground began to shake under our feet with each new blast.
“What is Saint Dane doing?” I asked nervously. “Does he have some kind of depth charges or bombs or something?”
Uncle Press said to Spader, “Did you see anything on the surface? Any ships?”
“No, mate,” Spader answered quickly. “Nothing!”
More explosions followed. Saint Dane was trying to rip Faar apart.
“Bobby,” Uncle Press said. “The Faarians have to get out now.”
“Excuse me?” I said, not sure if I believed what I was hearing.
“They’ve got to get out of Faar. If they stay here, they could die.”
“But . . . where are they going to go?” I asked. “There’s nothing but water out there.”
“You’ve seen them in the water, you think they’ll have any trouble?”
He was right. These Faarians were part fish.
“They’ve got a better chance out in the water,” he added. “If they stay here, they’re targets.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
“Go back to the council. Convince them to . . . to . . .” He was having trouble finding the words.
“To abandon ship?” I finished the thought for him.
“Yes, abandon ship,” he said sadly. “Spader and I will do what we can to help them launch the haulers.”
This was getting intense. He wanted me to tell these people to leave Faar . . . to leave their home. It was a city that for centuries had battled back everything that man and nature had to throw at it. But now they were being threatened by something far more dangerous than people desperate for food, or rising floodwaters. They were now being attacked by pure evil. Even as we stood there, the explosions were getting louder. Uncle Press was right. The Faarians had to get out.
I started to run off but—
“Bobby!” Uncle Press called. “Get your air globe first.”
At first I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this. About a second later, it hit me. We were stuck in here just like the Faarians. If we had to abandon ship, we didn’t have any of those spiffy fish suits with the built-in breathers. We needed our air globes if we wanted to survive . . . and we definitely wanted to survive.
“What about you guys?” I asked.
“We’ll do what we can down here then meet you up at the tunnel we entered through. Understand?”
I nodded.
Spader gave me a nervous smile. “We’re in a tum-tigger now, Pendragon.”
“Yeah. Let’s not stay long, all right?”
The two of them headed back for the hauler hangar as I ran for the tunnel that led to the aerovator. Using this elevator didn’t thrill me. I always thought you weren’t supposed to take an elevator if there was an emergency like a fire or an earthquake. Being attacked by raiders probably qualified as an emergency, but I didn’t have time to run all the way up the mountain’s paths. I’d probably get lost anyway. So I had to take my chances on the elevator.
I had to circle the big elevator tube until I found a car. When I jumped inside, I realized I wasn’t sure of how it worked. I only saw Kalaloo do it once. I grabbed the handle, pulled it toward me and—whoa! I rocketed off the ground so fast my knees buckled. I nearly got knocked to the floor from the force! I was afraid this aerovator was going to launch off the mountain like a missile, so I quickly backed off on the handle and slowed down. Whew!
The next challenge was to figure out which floor to stop on. I first had to get my air globe, then climb back up to the Coun
cil Circle.
After rising up for a few minutes, I took a wild guess and stopped the elevator on one of the floors. When I ran out, I passed a lot of Faarians who looked stunned. There were women gathering their kids together and pressing against the rock walls of the mountain. A few people ran past, pulling on their green swimskins. I guess they figured out for themselves that it would be safer outside in the water. But mostly people just stood around, looking confused, and scared. I thought about screaming, “Get out! Get out! Abandon the city!” but figured they’d think I was a nut job. No, if there was going to be an official evacuation order given, it would have to come from the council.
When I got out of the corridor into the open air, I saw that I was only one level below the rocky entrance to the tunnel we had used. I had made a great guess! So I sprinted up the winding pathway toward the entrance.
That’s when another huge explosion hit Faar. This was the closest yet, and it nearly knocked me off my feet. A few Faarians screamed. They had never experienced anything like this before. Hey, neither had I, but at least I knew where it was coming from, sort of. I’m not sure which was worse, being clueless, or knowing that someone totally evil was out there who wanted to destroy Faar.
Back in the submarine hangar, Uncle Press and Spader were doing all they could to help Kalaloo and the Faarians launch the haulers. Obviously I wasn’t there to see what I’m about to write. It was explained to me afterward.
The Faarian submariners scrambled into their ships. They all pulled on their green swimskins and lowered themselves into the clear cockpit domes. There were two submariners in each hauler. The whole time explosions rocked the hangar, but they couldn’t speed up the process for fear of damaging a hauler.
Finally the first hauler was ready for launching. The airlock door opened behind it and the small craft eased out. Once the hauler was beyond the door, the outer compartment flooded and the ship floated free.
The first hauler was on its way to save the underwater farms of Cloral.
As I ran for the tunnel where we left our gear, the explosions started coming faster. It was like Saint Dane had found his target and was zeroing in. I had no idea what his weapon was, but it was pretty powerful. I could only hope that the Faarians had built this place tough so it could withstand the attack.
I found our gear right where we had left it and grabbed my air globe. For a second I thought I should bring the other two down to Uncle Press and to Spader, but that wasn’t my mission. I had to get to the Council Circle and convince them to abandon Faar. That was the plan; I had to stick to it.
I ran back through the tunnel and made my way out into the light. I quickly debated about the best way to get up to the Council Circle. Should I take the aerovator or just run? Since the aerovator scared me and I had already traveled the paths to the platform once before, I decided to run. It wasn’t easy though. Every time an explosion rocked the place, I was nearly knocked off my feet. Once I almost stumbled off the path and would have fallen down the steep, craggy mountain if a Faarian hadn’t grabbed me. He saved my life. But I didn’t stop to give him more than a quick “thanks.” I had to get to the council.
I retraced the route we took before and was soon running up the marble steps that led to the fancy platform and the Council of Faar. I didn’t know what I’d find there. For all I knew these people had already left. But when I got to the top of the steps, I saw that they were all still sitting on the round bleachers. They seemed to be in heated debate. I didn’t want to step into the middle of it, but I had to. I had to somehow convince these people that the best thing they could do was announce to all of Faar that it was time to leave.
Down in the submarine hangar, the second hauler was ready for launching. The cargo hold was loaded with the precious chemical and the submariners were at the controls, ready to go. Slowly the door at the rear of their pen began to rise. In a few moments the second hauler would be out and on its way The other eighteen haulers wouldn’t be far behind. Things were looking good . . .
. . . and then there was an explosion. A big one. It was a direct hit to the air lock behind the hauler that was on its way out. A wave of water blasted in that rocked the hauler forward. The submariners were bounced around like they were in a washing machine. Worse, the half-open door to the sea stopped moving. Several Faarians desperately tried to work the controls to get it moving again, but it was no use. The door was jammed.
Then they discovered something even more ominous. The explosion had done more harm than they first realized. The Faarians discovered that none of the doors behind the haulers would open! This last explosion had done some major damage. If they couldn’t repair it, then the rest of the haulers would be stuck in their pens, unable to be launched.
While the Faarians frantically tried to repair the damaged controls, Uncle Press told Spader to get out of there and bring back their air globes. Spader refused. He didn’t want to leave Uncle Press. But Uncle Press insisted. He reminded Spader that the Faarians had breathers in their suits. If they had to abandon Faar, they would be fine. But as for he and Spader, the Travelers wouldn’t be doing much more traveling.
Spader got the point. He didn’t want to leave, especially when things were looking the bleakest, but he knew he had to go. So, reluctantly he left the hauler hangar and started up toward the tunnel where the last two air globes were waiting.
At the Council Circle I approached the bleachers and heard some of the arguments that were being made.
“We must protect Faar at all costs!” one woman yelled. “Cloral cannot afford to lose our knowledge and support.”
“It was a breakdown in security,” another man jumped in. “We should never again allow an outsider to enter Faar.”
Another woman yelled at this man, “Wake up! The secret is out. They know we’re here.”
“We can recover from this,” another argued. “We can lock down. We are impenetrable!”
They were arguing in all different directions and getting nowhere. More important, they were missing the big point. Faar was in mortal danger now. I was about to step into the circle, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned quickly and saw that it was the old man who everyone listened to before.
“What is happening below?” he asked.
“They’re starting to launch the haulers,” I answered.
“This . . . demon who is attacking Faar,” he continued. “What is his goal?”
“That’s a tough one to answer,” I said truthfully. “But right now, he wants to send Cloral into chaos. That’s why he poisoned the crops. The only thing stopping his plan from working is Faar.”
“What kind of person would destroy a city so that he can destroy an entire world?” he asked with pain.
“You said it yourself. He’s a demon. And he’s capable of a lot worse, trust me.”
The old man closed his eyes. I guessed he was processing the information. He seemed hurt by the fact that such hatred and evil could exist. For all of his wisdom, the evil that Saint Dane brought to his doorstep was beyond anything he could imagine.
“This is going to sound horrible,” I continued, “but you have to abandon Faar.”
His eyes snapped open and he shot a look at me like I had just slapped him across the face.
“I don’t think he’s going to stop until this place is rubble,” I added.
“This is our home,” he said defiantly. “It is the home of our ancestors. We will not leave our home.”
I knew exactly what it was like to be asked to leave home, but I didn’t want to go down that road with him.
“I know, it’s a horrible thing,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “But if your people stay here, they might die.”
“And what if this attack is unsuccessful?” he asked.
“Then they come back,” I answered quickly. “Simple as that.”
Two more explosions rocked the dome. The old man lost his balance, but I grabbed his arm and held him up before he could spill. The cou
ncil members fell silent. That last jolt was pretty hairy.
“I don’t think there’s much time,” I said.
The old man looked at me. I saw the pain in his eyes. He had made his decision. He stood tall and walked back into the council meeting. All eyes were on him. No one said a word. He walked directly to the center of the circle and addressed the crowd.
“It is time to act,” he said.
He then knelt down to the floor and lifted up a piece of tile. He reached into the space that the tile had covered, and he must have turned a switch or pushed a button or something because the floor began to move. A two-foot-round section of floor rose up and up and up until it became a podium in front of the old man.
The council members watched in awe. Some whispered to each other, but most just stared. I had no idea what was going on.
The podium looked like some kind of control panel. There were four chunks of crystal on top that were about the size of baseballs. One was clear, another green, a third yellow, and the fourth was reddish.
“We have been prepared for such a disaster,” the old man announced to the council. “We must not ignore the inevitable.”
“No!” a man shouted. “You cannot transpire!”
There was that word again. What was transpire? It sounded like some kind of last resort.
“We will not transpire, at least not yet,” the old man responded. “Faar is strong. We may still withstand this attack. But I am ordering the evacuation.”
With that, the old man put the palm of his hand over the yellow crystal, and pushed it down. Immediately, it began to glow yellow, and an alarm sounded. At least I think it was an alarm. It was a loud horn sound that I guarantee was heard everywhere on Faar. From what I could tell, this was a signal. It was telling everyone that it was time to abandon Faar.
The council members hung their heads in defeat.
“Go,” said the old man with compassion. “Join your families. Be sure they get out. If you hear the safe command, then return. But if you do not, my love is with you all.”
The Lost City of Faar Page 25
