by Trudi Trueit
Swallowing hard, she nodded. “Okay. It’s a deal. No secrets. Now I’ve really got to get out of here or I’m going to miss my flight.” She opened her arms.
Cruz gave her a hug.
“It’ll be okay,” she whispered, planting a kiss on the top of his head. “We’ll find him.”
He hoped so. Suddenly, tears were clouding his vision. When she released him, Cruz quickly wiped them away.
Aunt Marisol gathered up her hair and tucked it into the back collar of her coat. “When are you going to open the holo-journal for the next clue?”
“Tomorrow, I guess. I want to wait for Lani.” Cruz had made a promise to himself that he would never open his mom’s journal for a new clue without Lani. They may be 7,000 miles and nine time zones apart, but they were still best friends. “Sailor, Emmett, and I will video call Lani after the Halloween party,” said Cruz.
“Tell Lani I’ll see her soon.” The plan was for Cruz’s best friend from back home, Leilani Kealoha, and her mom to pick up Aunt Marisol at Lihue Airport, in Kauai. “I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Aunt Marisol?”
Her hand on the latch, she glanced back.
“Be careful.”
She gave him the smile that always made him feel completely special. Completely loved. “You too.”
Scooping up Hubbard, Cruz went to the middle porthole to watch his aunt leave. As she hurried across the helipad, the wind caught her long black-and-white-checkered raincoat, billowing it out behind her like the flag at the end of a car race. Except this wasn’t the end. Nowhere near it. Cruz was scared. For her. For his dad. For himself. The three of them had always been a team. Together, he knew they could face any obstacle and overcome any challenge, but apart…
Well, Cruz had never been without at least one of them at arm’s length. Until now.
He wondered if this was how Emmett, Sailor, Bryndis, and the rest of the explorers felt. None of them had family on board.
Aunt Marisol climbed into the chopper and the engine roared to life, the rotor blades becoming a blur. The helicopter gently lifted off.
Cradling Hubbard under his left arm, Cruz waved with his other hand. The deck’s lights were bright. He couldn’t see Aunt Marisol through the windshield. Wasn’t sure she could see him, either. Still he kept waving, even as the chopper turned and headed east toward Ireland. Cruz dropped his hand only when the bird’s red tail beacon vanished in the clouds.
The lights on the weather deck were dimming, the black sky turning dark blue. The smell of bacon tickled his nose. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of the explorers would be up. Cruz looked down into a pair of chocolate-chip eyes. Feeling a heart jump beneath his hand, he untwisted a tangled zipper tab on a tiny pocket of the dog’s yellow life vest. “Guess it’s just you and me now, Hub.”
A pink tongue curled up to lick his chin.
Cruz slung the strap of his duffel onto one shoulder and, holding Hubbard close, went downstairs to face the day.
THAT MORNING, before first period was over, every explorer on board Orion knew Aunt Marisol had left the ship. What they didn’t know was why. And, like any dogged explorer, each student was determined to find out. During the break between conservation and anthropology, Cruz found himself cornered in the third-deck lounge.
“Is your aunt quitting the Academy?” asked Ali.
“No,” said Cruz.
“Is she sick?” pressed Matteo.
“She’s fine.”
“Is she taking Dr. Hightower’s job?” asked Zane.
“Of course not. You guys, come on!”
“So, it isn’t true?” Sailor put a hand to her cheek. “She didn’t run off with Captain Iskandar to Paris to get married?”
“No!” cried Cruz before he realized she was kidding.
Dugan was studying Cruz, a devilish grin brewing. “This oughta be interesting.”
Cruz didn’t flinch. He wasn’t about to take the bait.
Emmett, unfortunately, was a more trusting fish. “What ought to be interesting?”
“Seeing how Coronado handles not being teacher’s pet,” drawled Dugan.
“Cut it out.” Sailor gave him a scowl. “You know Cruz works as hard as the rest of us.”
Dugan opened his mouth but was interrupted by the chime on his tablet. All their tablets were ringing. It was time for second period.
Passing Cruz, Dugan snorted. “Let’s see how you do, hotshot, now that you’re just one of us lowly students.”
“Ignore him,” Bryndis whispered to Cruz.
“I’ll try,” said Cruz, but he wondered, how do you ignore someone who you’re supposed to be working alongside? They were teammates, after all.
“Or we could toss him overboard,” muttered Sailor.
“Sailor!” Bryndis rolled her eyes.
“Hey, he could use the flotation device we all have in our jacket lining,” she pointed out. “And I’d throw a sandwich in after him. I’m not completely heartless.”
Matteo slapped Cruz on the back. “Trouble on Team Cousteau?”
“Not a bit.” Cruz puffed up. “We’re good. Better than good. We’re…we’re supremely fantastic.”
“Uh-huh,” said Matteo, spinning on his heel to go to class.
Emmett snickered. “Supremely fantastic?”
“Sorry.” Cruz scrunched his nose. “It’s the first thing I could think of.”
“I get it.”
They may have been explorers, but the 23 students on board the Academy’s flagship vessel were also competitors. Everyone worked, individually and as part of their team, to earn high scores on their school-work, excel at sports and games, and impress the faculty. Every team wanted to be the best and every explorer was vying for the North Star award, the honor given at the end of their first year to the explorer who showed the most potential. Matteo was on Team Magellan, Team Cousteau’s biggest rival for the top spot. However, Team Galileo and Team Earhart could never be counted out. Team Cousteau had to appear to be a strong unit. If Matteo, or anybody else, saw even a tiny fracture, they would use it to their competitive advantage.
Entering anthropology class, Cruz saw Dr. Luben standing in the front of the room next to a table filled with assorted bones, fossils, and artifacts. Dr. Fanchon Quills, their tech lab chief, was beside him. Cruz grinned as he slipped into his seat behind Bryndis and Dugan and between Emmett and Sailor. If Fanchon was here, they must be getting a cool new gadget. Plus, it was fun to see Dr. Luben again. Cruz’s first memory of the scientist was watching him zip into the parking lot of the Svalbard Global Seed Vault on his snowmobile, spraying a huge fantail of snow behind him. Dr. Luben had taken the explorers on a tour of the seed vault he’d helped design. He’d explained the importance of safeguarding the world’s future food supply in the event of a global catastrophe. Back then, in a black turtleneck, jacket, and ski pants, the scientist had reminded Cruz of an Olympic athlete. Today, however, wearing a crisp white dress shirt, purple tie, and gray dress pants, he looked more like a lawyer.
“Good morning.” Dr. Luben’s radio voice filled the room from corner to corner.
“Good morning,” the explorers answered.
“As you can see, I am not Dr. Coronado.” His smile softened his square jaw. “I’m Archer Luben, and I’ll be filling in while your regular instructor takes some time to deal with a family situation. She’ll be back on board as soon as she can. I grew up in Canterbury, in Kent, about fifty-five miles east of London. I studied paleobotany and archaeology at the University of Cambridge. My specialty is space archaeology, and I’m looking forward to sharing this area of study with you. Let’s see, what else can I tell you about myself? I like to heli-ski, hike glaciers…”
Sailor was tapping Cruz. “Space archaeology? He looks for artifacts on other planets?”
“No.” Cruz chuckled. “He uses space satellites to look for archaeological sites on Earth.”
“Ohhh.”
“…so, without furth
er ado,” Dr. Luben said, sliding a hand through thick wheat blond hair, “let’s kick things off with a pop quiz!”
The room went deadly still.
“Joking!” he cried. “Bad sense of humor. You’ll learn to live with it. I hope. Relax, there will be no surprises today. We’re going to pick up right where Dr. Coronado left off, which means we have a guest speaker. Please welcome your esteemed science tech lab director, Dr. Fanchon Quills.”
They applauded.
“Thanks, Dr. Luben. Hello, explorers!” Fanchon hurried around the table, her red flip-flops making a splick-splack sound. Over jeans and a pink tee, she wore a sunshine yellow apron with a picture of a grinning white daisy wearing sunglasses. Her caramel curls, the ends dyed bright purple, spilled over the top of a wide giraffe-print headband. Fanchon held up a green device. It looked like a pear sliced in half from top to bottom. “You’re all familiar with this, right?”
“Yes,” said Cruz, along with the others, flipping open his tablet to take notes. Last week, Aunt Marisol had devoted an entire class to Fanchon’s PANDA, or Portable Artifact Notation and Data Analyzer. The device could identify the origin, type, and age of fossils, bones, teeth, pottery, and most every other kind of artifact.
A few rows from Cruz, Felipe Rivera had his hand in the air. Felipe was on Team Galileo. Cruz hadn’t gotten a chance to get to know him very well, though he hoped to. Felipe was cheerful and friendly, and he often carried around thick books on cool topics like holo-game design and spy gadgetry. Cruz knew Felipe was from Chile. He also knew, firsthand, that Felipe was a talented classical violinist. Felipe roomed with Kwento Osasona in the cabin next to Emmett and Cruz’s. Whenever Felipe practiced his violin, they could hear him through the wall. He was quite good!
Fanchon nodded to Felipe.
“Professor Coronado gave us a whole lesson on PANDAs,” Felipe said politely. “We know how to use them.”
“That may be, but you don’t know how to use these,” said Fanchon, grinning. “My assistant, Dr. Vanderwick, and I have recently made some improvements to the device, which I think you’ll find helpful. You may have learned in biology that DNA, or deoxyribonucleic acid, contains the genetic instructions all living organisms need to develop, function, and reproduce.”
There were a few snorts and snickers. Cruz saw Zane elbow Matteo, who elbowed Ali.
“DNA can be found in every cell of every living organism, even plants,” continued Fanchon, giving the boys a warning look. “It’s also found in the cells we shed, such as hair, sweat, saliva, and skin. In fact, you slough off about thirty thousand skin cells every hour! DNA can survive for hundreds of thousands—even millions—of years, depending on environmental conditions. Now, thanks to our upgrade, your PANDA unit can scan artifacts, fossils, bones, and teeth for plant and animal DNA. If it finds a trace, the software will attempt to analyze and identify it.”
“Whoa!” Cruz bounced in his seat.
Emmett’s glasses were two green circles sprinkled with yellow dots.
“The analysis may not always be successful,” continued Fanchon. “The DNA may be too old or contaminated, but when it works, it’s pretty amazing. Let me show you. Watch closely. Once I’m done with the demo, we’ll hand out the PANDAs and let you try it for yourselves.” Fanchon picked up one of the fossils, a cross-section of a lumpy gray rock. “Say you’ve discovered this coprolite. First, you’d do just as you always have. You’d press the blue button labeled ‘ID,’ wait for the ‘scan now’ signal to appear on-screen, and scan the piece. Within a few minutes, the PANDA would provide complete background info on your item. You’d know what it is, where it came from, and how old it is. Now, to check for DNA, you’d press this yellow button, marked ‘DNA,’ wait for the ‘scan now’ indicator, and do a second scan of the object. If no trace of cellular information is found or it’s too contaminated to be processed, it will simply indicate that on the screen. If, however, DNA has been discovered, you’ll be alerted by a soft tone—”
“Ehhhhh.” It was Dugan. He had let out a yawn with one of those I’m-totally-and-completely-bored sounds.
A giraffe-print headband turned. Pink lips formed a tight line. Splick-splack. Splick-splack. Flip-flops headed in the direction of Team Cousteau.
“Uh-oh,” mumbled Emmett, his glasses turning to maroon rectangles of worry.
The sandals came to a halt in front of Dugan, who’d at least had the sense to shrink down in his seat. Sitting behind his teammate, Cruz could see the fire in Fanchon’s eyes. She crooked her finger. “Mr. Marsh, perhaps you’d care to help demonstrate.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Dugan sheepishly, getting to his feet. He followed Fanchon to the front of the room. Turning, he gave the class an apologetic look.
Several kids shook their heads. Cruz was among them, though he felt sorry for Dugan. His teammate was quite smart. Dugan was usually among the top scorers when it came to their projects and homework assignments. It was the people part that gave him trouble. Dugan was always quick to say exactly what was on his mind. Sometimes too quick. If you had an idea and Dugan didn’t like it, he’d tell you—and not always nicely. He could be rude and rigid and self-centered and nitpicky and competitive and jealous and…
Exhausting. That was it, plain and simple. Dugan could be very exhausting. If only Dugan would take a minute to think before he spoke—or, in this case, yawned—he’d get along better. Not that Cruz could tell him any of this. Dugan also didn’t take constructive criticism well. But then, neither did Cruz. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t really know anybody who did. Criticism was criticism, no matter how kindly it was put.
Fanchon handed Dugan a PANDA unit and the fossil, then turned to the explorers. “While Dugan identifies the fossil, let me finish my explanation. After you scan for DNA, the readout will give you a comprehensive analysis of the results. If DNA has been found on the piece, you’ll have about fifteen seconds to decide if you want to proceed to the next phase…”
Cruz heard a low hum. He looked around to try to figure out where it was coming from, but as quickly as it came, it disappeared.
Fanchon was still talking. “…if you don’t want to go on, hit the ‘stop’ button and you’re done. If you do want to continue, do nothing, and—Wait, Dugan, did you do the ID scan first?”
“No. I figured we already knew what it was, so I—”
Raaawwwwwr!
A mighty roar nearly sent Cruz out of his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a big cat bounding across the front of the room! However, this was no ordinary house cat. A mountain lion, maybe? Reaching the port wall, the sandy-colored animal turned, revealing two front teeth the size of bananas. A saber-toothed cat! Weren’t they…extinct?
Rearing back, the animal lunged toward Dugan, who hit the floor stomach first. The cat landed next to the table of artifacts, then turned toward the students. The explorers screamed as they watched it leap for Bryndis, its massive paws stretching out…
Eeeeek!
…and passing right through her!
“A hologram!” called Cruz as the animal cleared his right shoulder. “It’s a saber-toothed cat hologram.”
“The correct genus name is Smilodon,” interjected Dr. Luben. He was peeking out from behind a pole. “Smilodon means ‘knife tooth.’ Did you know saber-toothed cats aren’t tigers at all? These extinct cats are distantly related to modern lions and cheetahs.”
“You okay, Dugan?” Fanchon knelt beside the explorer, who was flattened to the floor like a piece of gum after a concert. She shut off his PANDA unit, and the Smilodon, which was still bolting around the room, vanished.
“What happened?” gasped Dugan. He rolled over.
“You didn’t follow my instructions.”
“Sorry, Fanchon.”
“That’s all right.” Fanchon helped him up. “Next time, though, please do exactly as you’re told. Go ahead, take your seat.”
Lowering his head, Dugan shuffled back to his desk.
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Cruz glanced at Sailor. She was resting her chin in her hand, looking both annoyed and mildly amused. “Overboard,” she mouthed.
Cruz bit his lip to keep from smiling.
Fanchon cleared her throat, and everyone settled down. “As I was saying, if DNA has been discovered in or on your artifact and you choose to proceed to the final step, a digital representation of the organism will be projected for your review. The PANDA analyzes all of the data it collects, including forensics, and, when possible, the software will give you an approximate description of the activity the life-form was engaged in shortly prior to its death. The activity could be two minutes, two hours, or two days before death. Sorry, we haven’t honed the technology to be that specific yet. Remember, we’re dealing in thousands, even millions, of years. Anyway, the fifteen-second delay gives you time to halt the display of the holographic image in the event it’s not a convenient time to view it or you decide you’d rather not see, say, a Smilodon engaged in battle. This is why it’s wise to identify your object first, so there are no…uh…surprises.”
The whole class laughed. Well, most of the class laughed. Sailor, Cruz, and Emmett gave one another worried looks. This was not the impression they wanted Team Cousteau to make on Fanchon or their new professor.
“By the way, if the unit detects human DNA, I have programmed the protocol to hypothesize and project accompanying hairstyles, clothing, and accessories, as necessary,” added Fanchon. “We have promised your parents, after all, to give you a wholesome education.”
More giggles. And snorts.
“Another volunteer?” prompted Fanchon.
Everyone politely raised their hands, and she selected Zane Patrick from Team Magellan.
“This time, let’s use this Mesozoic-era ginkgo leaf fossil,” Fanchon said to Zane, picking up a chunk of limestone from the table. “We should be safe with a plant, unless a dinosaur was chewing on it before it fossilized.”
