by Trudi Trueit
“Look, Hathor has an ankh,” blurted Cruz. “Sorry, Professor Luben.”
“No penalties for enthusiasm in my class, Cruz, especially when you’re correct. Do you know what an ankh symbolized?”
“Life,” said Cruz.
“Very good.”
Professor Luben continued his way around the sarcophagus, pointing out the various paintings of gods and goddesses, funeral writings wishing Shesepamuntayesher a beautiful burial, and magic spells from the Book of the Dead. When their teacher finished, he turned to them. “Does anyone have any questions?”
Cruz’s hand shot up.
“Yes?”
Cruz nodded to the split in the sarcophagus. “I was wondering how that happened. Did someone drop it?”
“No.” A shadow crossed the professor’s face. “Someone cut it.”
The explorers gasped.
“Cut it?” cried Cruz. “You mean…on purpose?”
“That is exactly what I mean,” said their teacher. “Thieves dug up her grave, stole the sarcophagi, and smuggled them out of Egypt. They sawed the boxes into pieces, hid them inside furniture, and shipped everything by express mail to an antiquities dealer in New York. The dealer had the coffins restored, but as you can see, the damage was done. Had the authorities not caught up with him, the dealer would have sold the boxes to a wealthy collector, who may or may not have known how they were brought into the country. This sarcophagus was one of more than seven thousand cultural objects seized by U.S. authorities as part of an investigation into a smuggling network. The smugglers illegally brought in artifacts from a number of countries, including Italy, China, Yemen, and Syria.”
“Did you say seven thousand?” Sailor gasped.
“I did. And that’s the tip of the iceberg.”
“Why do they do it?” asked Bryndis. “Don’t they know they’re destroying history?”
“Why do people steal anything? And yes, they know what they are doing,” he said crisply. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, Professor Luben began a slow journey around the sarcophagus. “Looting is as old as the pharaohs. The thieves often work under cover of night, ransacking tombs and ancient sites for whatever treasures they can find. They’ll dig the pits quickly, using shovels, backhoes, and even dynamite! They leave destruction in their wake. For every piece they keep, they destroy hundreds more. The mummies are worthless to them, and so they scatter the bones.”
“Dr. Luben?” Felipe slowly raised his hand. “Do you mean…Are you saying…Shesepamuntayesher…?”
“Is lost, I’m afraid,” answered their teacher. “If her tomb had been carefully excavated by archaeologists, we would have also likely been able to uncover the objects she was buried with—sheets of papyrus with magic spells, amulets and other jewelry, and painted chests. Also, because it was tradition to bury families together, she would have been laid to rest in a niche near her ancestors with her descendants nearby. All would have had their own treasures with them, too. Properly done, it could have been a priceless discovery. But now all we have is this…” Professor Luben lifted his head, and Cruz thought he saw the sparkle of tears in his eyes. “It is still an important find, of course, but think what might have been.”
No one said a word. They stared solemnly at the damaged sarcophagus.
“Well, we do have one other thing,” said Professor Luben. “The sarcophagus was sent here with the hope that Fanchon Quills and Sidril Vanderwick might be able to extract DNA from the wood. It was a long shot, because the body would have been wrapped in linen for burial.”
“And did they?” cried Matteo. “Did they find DNA?”
“I don’t know.” Dr. Luben brought a hand from his pocket. He was holding a PANDA unit. “Fanchon gave this to me just before class this morning. She said it contained the answer.” Smirking, he glanced around. “Should we find out together?”
“Yes!” cried the class so loudly, Cruz was sure Captain Iskandar could hear them two decks up on the bridge.
Placing the PANDA on the display stand next to the coffin, Dr. Luben tapped a button. He took a step back. Cruz held his breath.
There! The flicker of an arm. A cream-colored dress. A dark head. Twenty-three explorers stared upward, eyes widening and jaws dropping. It took a few seconds for the complete 3D holo-image of the Egyptian woman to appear.
“Shesepamuntayesher!” whispered Emmett.
Funny thing was, except for the way she was dressed, she didn’t look that different from a modern college-age girl. She had smooth, olive skin, deep brown eyes rimmed with black eyeliner, and shoulder-length black hair that was braided in hundreds of small sections. The front braids were swept back and held behind her head with a gold clip. Under a sheer white tunic, she had on a sleeveless cream tube dress that fell to her ankles. She wore no shoes. Walking on the air above her own coffin, she strolled to the end of the display stand and stopped in front of Cruz. Glancing down, she grinned as if she recognized him. Could she see him? No, of course not. And yet…
Cruz couldn’t help it. He smiled back.
Reaching out a hand to Cruz, Shesepamuntayesher began to kneel. And was gone.
Cruz remembered Fanchon’s explanation that the PANDA units could reveal one of the last activities the life-form was doing not long before death. He wondered how soon after this moment Shesepamuntayesher had died. She didn’t seem like she knew her life was about to end. But maybe that’s how it is.
For a long while, nobody moved.
“So,” said Professor Luben softly. “It’s my turn to ask you a question. What are you prepared to do?”
“You…you mean about looting?” Sailor gulped.
Professor Luben nodded.
Cruz wasn’t sure. Was there anything he could do?
“No offense,” said Zane, “but it’s not like we can go to Egypt and catch the bad guys.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Dr. Luben. “True, as a society, it is difficult to catch looters and smugglers and control the global market for the stolen objects they sell. But as explorers, there is a great deal we can do.” Stepping through the ring of students, their teacher turned on the holo-projector. A split screen with two satellite maps appeared above them. Cruz noticed that although the images were of the same desert location, they were not identical. The image on the left contained fairly smooth ground with a few pits, but the other showed so many craters pocking the landscape it looked like the moon. “These infrared and laser-generated images were taken of an area south of Cairo, close to where researchers believe Shesepamuntayesher’s tomb was raided,” explained their professor. “The image on the left was taken about a decade ago. They image on the right was taken last month.”
“What are all those spots?” Dugan asked what they were all thinking.
“Not spots. Holes. They are all the pits that looters have dug.”
Cruz was stunned. There were hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of holes!
“We use detailed satellite images to see where people are digging. Based on the photos, archaeologists can estimate the age of a looted tomb and alert the authorities to keep an eye out for antiquities from that time period that come on the market for sale. But, as you can see, it’s a huge undertaking.”
“We’re going to look for looting sites, aren’t we?” cried Cruz. “We’re going to be space archaeologists!”
“You bet! Lights on, full.” As the lights came up, Professor Luben had them take their seats. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Each team will be assigned a country bordering the Mediterranean that has been victimized by looting. On your tablets, you’ll find a link to a tutorial. It will teach you how to scan the satellite imagery and what to look for. You’ll then connect with the Society’s space archaeology page online, and your team will be given an area within your country to search for looting holes. You’ll use the large computerized map tables in the library—they are much easier to see. Dr. Holland has created a schedule fo
r each group, which you’ll find on your tablets. As a team, you’ll prepare a report of your findings to give orally to the class and a written report for me, which I’ll pass along to Society scientists and, perhaps, the authorities.”
Cruz looked at Emmett. His roommate’s glasses had morphed into lime green ovals with bright yellow streaks of curiosity. Finally! That brown color was starting to depress Cruz.
“I’ve randomly drawn a country for each team to survey,” said Dr. Luben, picking up his tablet. “In no particular order, here they are. Team Galileo, you’ll be assigned to Libya. Team Magellan, you’ve got Egypt. Team Earhart, you’ll be scanning Greece, and Team Cousteau, you have Turkey.”
Cruz tensed. Turkey was where Nebula had ordered him to go for the ransom drop.
Emmett saw him stiffen. “Luck of the draw,” he hissed. “Weird luck, but still luck.”
Cruz supposed so.
Dr. Luben was dismissing the class. “Remember, do the online looting tutorial and check your schedules to see when your group is down for map time in the library. Also, you have two reading assignments: one on the archaeology of Spain and another on parietal art. Please familiarize yourself with cave paintings, relief sculpture, and petroglyphs—not saying there’s a quiz coming, but there’s a quiz coming.”
Cruz made a quick note in his tablet about his assignments. In each of their classes, the explorers were reading about Spain so that when they arrived in Barcelona they would be familiar with the country’s culture, animals, geography, government, and conservation challenges.
Everyone gathered their stuff and filed out the way they usually did between second and third periods—quickly. The explorers only had 15 minutes to scurry back to their cabins, change for fitness and survival class, and make it down to the CAVE. If you weren’t on time, Monsieur Legrand would make you do extra push-ups or sit-ups or something-ups. Cruz knew he should have rushed out with the rest of the explorers, but he wanted one last look at the coffin.
“I’ll catch up,” Cruz said to Emmett, before making his way to the front of the class.
The intricate artwork, the hieroglyphics, even the scar—it was extraordinary. And when Shesepamuntayesher had looked at him, had knelt and stretched out a hand, as if she was a mother and he—
“Incredible, huh?” Professor Luben was beside him. Along with Officer Dover, they were the only ones left in the room. “Although I have to say, I’ll be a bit relieved when she heads home tomorrow. I’ve been holding my breath for the past two days worrying that something might happen to her.”
An image of his mother’s cipher flashing in his brain, Cruz nodded.
“Cruz…I…uh…well, I’m not quite sure how to say this…” Cruz had never known Dr. Luben to be at a loss for words. “I wanted to say how sorry I am…about your dad’s…disappearance.”
Cruz dipped his head.
“Your aunt…she’s concerned about you. She made me promise I’d keep her posted on how you were coping while she was away. And help out where I could.”
Cruz looked up. “Really? ’Cause she made me promise the same thing about you. I’m supposed to tell her how things are really going in class—you know, without the cherry on top for her benefit.”
Dr. Luben let out a laugh. “Looks like she’s got us both reporting to her.”
“Looks like.”
His teacher studied him. “So how are you doing?”
“Hanging in there. You?”
“The same. But then my situation is far less difficult than yours.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here…”
“Thanks.” Naturally, he couldn’t tell Dr. Luben about the cipher, Nebula, or the kidnapping, but he was grateful that his teacher cared. “I’ll be okay.”
“Spoken like a true explorer,” said the professor. “Bucking up to the challenge is good, Cruz, but keeping things inside isn’t.”
“I know. I won’t.”
Professor Luben tipped his head. “You’d better get going. I’ll text Monsieur Legrand and let him know I kept you late.”
As he headed out of class, it occurred to Cruz that he really didn’t know much about his professors, except for Aunt Marisol, of course. He’d picked up scraps of information about them here and there. He knew, for instance, that Professor Modi’s wife was a teacher on board Venture, one of the other Academy ships; that Professor Gabriel had a grandchild; and that Professor Benedict played blues guitar. It wasn’t much. That’s how it was with teachers, though, wasn’t it? They knew far more about you than you did about them.
At the door, Cruz glanced back at Professor Luben, who was still admiring the sarcophagus. His teacher seemed to genuinely care about him. Then again, so had Mr. Rook and Tripp Scarlatos, and look how they had turned out.
Life would be so much easier if the bad guys were mean and the good guys were nice.
Seeing Cruz lingering at the door, his instructor nodded and smiled. Cruz returned the grin, lifted his hand, and hurried out of class.
“YOU ALONE?”
“Yes,” said Cruz to his best friend. “Emmett went…” He didn’t know. “…somewhere.”
Lani bent toward the camera. “I think I know where they’re holding your dad.”
The tablet fell from Cruz’s fingers. He barely felt it smash his toes. “What?”
“Quiet,” hushed his best friend, looking over her shoulder. “Your aunt is here.”
Scooping his tablet off the floor of his cabin, Cruz collapsed into one of the overstuffed chairs. “Aunt Marisol…is with you?”
“She was going to stay at the St. Regis, but you know my mom.”
That made sense. Cruz’s cousins lived on the south end of the island, more than an hour’s drive from Hanalei. Aunt Marisol would have booked a hotel room in Hanalei so she could be as close to home as possible.
“So what about my dad?” hissed Cruz. “How do you know where he is?”
“Okay, so Tiko and I went up to Limahuli yesterday. We drove around and spotted a house off Kuhio Highway next to the botanical gardens. I mean, it’s right next door. If you were on the second floor looking out a window, you’d be able to see directly into the tiered gardens.” Lani glanced over her shoulder again.
“That’s it?” Cruz felt himself deflate. “You saw a house next to the botanical gardens?”
“If you’d let me finish, this was no ordinary house. It had a ten-foot concrete wall going all the way around it. The front gate had an electrified security system. And get this—the blinds were closed in every window. Even a celebrity on vacation is going to at least open the blinds to see the ocean view. I mean, that’s why they come to Kauai, right? Plus, there were two big guys posted at the front door.”
“You saw all that from the street?”
“Hardly. I climbed a banyan tree.”
Of course she did.
“We didn’t stay long, though,” continued Lani. “It was getting dark. I’m telling you, Cruz, this has to be the place. Tiko’s going to take me up again, and this time, I’m bringing some of my equipment.”
“Lani, I don’t think you should—”
“Are you kidding? It’ll be the perfect chance to test out my acousticks.”
Lani had been working on the water-filled tubes that amplified sound waves on and off for the past two years. She’d constructed them out of some kind of metamaterials—as usual, she wouldn’t say what. Cruz often teased her that with her wizardry for inventing gadgets, she ought to become a professional spy. But this was no time for games.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” he said. “If they catch you—”
“They won’t. The acousticks have the range of a couple of football fields. I won’t need to get anywhere near the house to hear everything they’re saying inside. You don’t have to worry, Cruz. I’m not about to do anything dumb or dangerous.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said someone behind Lani.
Cruz knew t
hat voice. Aunt Marisol!
His screen was suddenly a blur of hair as Lani whipped her head around. “Uh…hi, Dr. Coronado. I…um…was telling Cruz that my uncle says I’m a good enough rider now to learn how to jump…on a horse, I mean. I’m going to learn how to jump a horse. Yeah. Cruz was…uh…he was telling me to be careful.”
“That’s good advice,” said Cruz’s aunt. “Your mom’s downstairs. She’s ready to take you to school.”
“Thanks. See ya later, Cruz. Don’t worry. I won’t fall off Stargazer.” Her face zoomed close to the camera. She wiggled her eyebrows at him, before grabbing her backpack and trotting out of the room.
Aunt Marisol watched Lani go, then sat down in front of the laptop. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” said Cruz. “Any news?”
“No.” He could see the worry lines etched around her mouth and across her forehead. His aunt looked tired. “I spent most of yesterday with one of the detectives. They’ve done their best to retrace your dad’s steps, but as far as anyone can tell, he was working at the Goofy Foot most of the day before he went missing. Several people saw him in the store, but no one noticed anything unusual. Your dad’s sunglasses, a book he was reading, even his cup of coffee—were all still in the shop. It’s like he suddenly disappeared off the face of the Earth. Poof!”
Cruz shivered. “What about our place over the shop?”
“The apartment was a little messy, but you know your father. He’s not exactly tidy.” She forced a grin. “The police say there’s no sign of forced entry or a struggle, which is a relief. Still, they can’t open a criminal investigation unless there’s evidence of foul play. It looks like we’re stuck for the moment. It’s extremely frustrating.”
Cruz’s stomach was starting to churn. It was going to be harder than he’d expected, lying to her. On the helicopter pad, Cruz and Aunt Marisol had promised they wouldn’t hide anything from each other, and here he was hiding everything from her. Cruz wanted to cry out, It’s Nebula! It’s Nebula! They have Dad. But he couldn’t.
