Book One of the Travelers

by D. J. MacHale

  “All I’ve ever wanted was to be an aquaneer like my father,” Spader blurted out. “Please give me another chance! I never make the same mistake twice.”

  Yenza smirked. “You just keep making new ones?”

  Spader couldn’t help himself—he laughed. “At least I won’t bore you by repeating myself.”

  Yenza rubbed her temples as if the situation were giving her a headache. “What am I going to do with you two?” Then she looked straight at them. “Here’s how it’s going to go. You are off port and dock duty. You are on Alt-power maintenance until I decide to put you back into action.”

  “Yes, Yenza,” the boys said in unison.

  “And you will work all your shifts together,” she said sternly. “You will either learn to work as a team, or you will kill each other. At this moment I truly don’t know which way this will go.”

  Yenza couldn’t have come up with a worse punishment, Spader thought. This was a right sinker.

  SEVEN

  Why do we need to check and repack the windworks?” Per complained for about the hundredth time. “They’re never used.”

  “They may not have been used since the time of Faar,” Spader replied, “but that’s our assignment, and we’re going to do it.”

  “Of course we’re going to do it,” Per snapped. “I’m not letting you get me in trouble again.”

  “Me?” Spader’s blood boiled. How could Per—Forget it, he told himself. Don’t let him get to you.

  It had already been a boring, irritating week and at least fifty times a shift—maybe more—Spader had to keep himself from punching Per.

  “We have one more vessel to do,” Spader said. “Stop gobbing and let’s get to it.”

  The two boys boarded the cruiser docked in the maintenance shed. Per was right, Spader conceded. Alt power didn’t make much sense. Vessels all ran on the much more controllable water power. Some of the smaller vessels, however, came equipped with the ability to harness wind and had the means to do so stowed about in hidden compartments. Aquaneers needed to have basic understanding of alt power, but Spader had never known anyone who had ever actually used it.

  Spader crossed the deck to open one of the compartments where the windworks were stored. Because it was considered emergency equipment, everything had to be set up by hand, as it would only go into effect if none of the automatic systems were working.

  That’s odd, he thought. He couldn’t find the latch.

  “You’re looking in the wrong place,” Per said.

  Spader frowned. “The latches on the other boats were here.”

  Per strolled to the center of the deck and tripped a hidden lever that was flush with the flooring. The hatch popped open. Per smirked at Spader. “The other boats were Watsu one-twenty-four Bs. This is a Watsu one-twenty-six D.”

  Spader’s father had spent hours teaching him about ship design, but there was no way Spader could know every detail of every vessel used on Cloral. Not like Per. Per’s family made the vessels!

  “You could have just told me,” Spader fumed. He stalked to the storage compartment, and he and Per raised and secured the center mast. Then they hauled up the sails and tied off their lines. Together they practiced bringing the boom about, which, if the boat weren’t tethered, would have helped them change direction.

  They went through the list of required moves in silence. Spader had found not speaking was the best tactic with Per.

  As they were reloading the storage compartments, Wu Yenza strode into the shed. “Glad to see you working so well together,” she said.

  Per and Spader exchanged a look. Spader wouldn’t call what they were doing “working well together”—more like barely tolerating each other.

  “I believe you’re ready for on-water work,” she said.

  “Spiff!” Spader exclaimed. “I mean, thank you for the opportunity.”

  Yenza smiled. “Most juniors aren’t thrilled by wind systems. But it’s a necessary facet of knowledge for all aquaneers.”

  “Understood,” Spader said.

  “There have been severe storms around Crasker,” Yenza explained. “Some of their fleet has been damaged as a result, and they’re short on transport boats. So rather than delivering the goods and personnel we’ve been expecting, they’ve asked if we can pick it up ourselves. You’ll be part of the team making the run.”

  “Both of us?” Per asked.

  Yenzu frowned. “Yes, both of you. Will that be a problem, Watsu?”

  “No,” Per said hastily. “No problem at all. Promise.”

  Spader had a feeling that was going to be a tough promise to keep.

  “I think that’s everything and everyone,” the man on the Crasker loading dock called up. “You’re ready to go.”

  The two-day trip to Crasker had been uneventful. They had arrived on schedule, and the shipment of thermal regulators and ballast equalizers had been waiting for them. Three engineers who had designed experimental devices they planned to test on the underwater farms on Grallion had also come aboard with their equipment.

  Crasker was interesting, but not really Spader’s style. A habitat devoted to manufacturing, Crasker didn’t have the beautiful farms and open spaces he loved on Grallion.

  Or maybe it was seeing the Watsu name blazoned across so many of the buildings. Per’s family manufactured many of the ships used throughout Cloral, and Crasker was one of the biggest habitats dedicated to building them. Even the cruiser they were on was a Watsu. The vessel followed the same basic design of the other ships its size: cargo holds below, living quarters in the middle, the upper deck, and then the pilot’s tower. It was a fairly small vessel, carrying ten crew members, who split day and night shifts. Happily, Per and Spader, as the juniors aboard, were put on different shifts and they barely saw each other.

  Once the ship had cleared the habitat, Clayton, Spader’s shift supervisor, joined him at the rail. “Ready for some more drills?” Clayton asked.

  “Always!” Spader replied.

  “We’ll do some more water sled work,” Clayton said.

  “I’ll fetch one,” Spader said, turning to head to the equipment storage below.

  “Not so fast.” Clayton tossed Spader a globe. “You’re going to access a sled from the water.”

  Spader put on the globe. “I can do that?”

  “You’re going to try,” Clayton replied, putting on an air globe so they’d be able to communicate while Spader was underwater. “Put on a harness, too.”

  Harnesses were stretchy cords that kept workers attached to the ship. Some were clipped onto rings on the hull; others, like the one Spader was going to wear, were attached to a winch on deck, manned by senior staff. This way a trainee in trouble could be hoisted back onto the ship.

  Spader hated wearing the harness—it made him feel like a wee baby just learning to be water safe—but he knew they were required for drills while the boat was under way. He put his arms through the openings and buckled the harness belt around his waist.

  “All set,” Spader announced.

  “This is a timed drill,” Clayton explained. “In an emergency you may not have a globe with you, so it’s important to work quickly. If you fell overboard, for example.”

  “You mean like this?” Spader slid across the deck flailing his arms. With a loud “Whooooo-ah!” he somersaulted over the rail and splashed into the water.

  When he resurfaced, he saw Clayton laughing above him. “Yeah, something like that,” Clayton said.

  The ship was moving at a good clip, and the harness was dragging Spader with it. He swam to the hull and clutched the grips that were spaced in intervals along the sides. He placed his feet in the lower grips and leaned out, relishing the invigorating feel of the breeze and the spray. He had spent many hours riding “shipside” on his father’s runs.

  “Steady on?” Clayton asked.

  “Like the ship and I are molded from the same piece!” Spader replied. “So what do I do?”

 
“The storage units in the holds can also be opened from the water. So you’ll need to find the hatches that correspond with those units.”

  “All right,” Spader said.

  “Pop the hatch open and get out the sled. Keep in mind, you could need to do this without a harness, an air globe, and while the ship is moving.”

  “Is that all?” Spader quipped.

  “I’ll be here with the lines,” Clayton said. He glanced at his watch. “And the timer! Go!”

  Spader scooted along the hull using the hand and foot grips. He had to push against the force of the water rushing over him, but he made it pretty quickly. Now he just had to figure out how to open the hatch and pull out the sled without falling off the side of the ship, or letting in too much water.

  He gazed toward the horizon. A wave was approaching. If he timed it just right…

  Hang on…hang on…. The swell of the wave raised the ship, taking Spader with it. At the top of the crest, he quickly popped open the latch and yanked out a water sled and shut the hatch. As the boat slammed back down the back side of the wave, Spader kicked away from the ship on the water sled.

  “Well done!” Clayton cheered. “Fastest time I’ve ever seen.”

  “Easy-o,” Spader said.

  “Now for repair drills,” Clayton said.

  “Slack me,” Spader said. “And I’ll be back in a flash.”

  Clayton released the entire length of the harness so that Spader could maneuver. Spader had run the same drills en route to Crasker, so he knew what to do.

  He submerged the sled and zipped to each of the intake valves under the ship, which he’d inspect if he were checking for damage or maintenance. He quickly returned to his starting point and resurfaced.

  Strange… The light had changed. Clayton stood at the rail staring up at the sky. It had grown dark and ominous.

  “Come in,” Clayton said. “Now.”

  “Should I put back the sled first?” Spader asked, guiding the sled alongside the hull. “Or carry it on board?”

  Clayton’s answer was drowned out by a sudden torrential downpour. A huge wave knocked Spader off the sled—and about ten wickams away from the ship. Only the harness kept him from being swept farther out.

  It was hard to see with the rain pouring down, but he could just about make out Clayton struggling with the winch. He thought he could feel the harness pulling him, but it might have been the violent chop of the storm.

  Another wave crashed down, but this time Spader was lucky. The undertow brought him back in line with the ship.

  “Hang on,” Clayton called above the howling storm.

  “Doin’ my best, mate!” Spader called back. The high winds and waves buffeted him around badly, wearing him down. His muscles burned as he fought the heavy, roiling water to get to the ladder.

  There it was. Spader kicked hard and stretched as far as he could to grab a rung. Yes! He pulled himself halfway out of the water but was instantly swept off by another wave. It slammed him into the side of the boat. His body went limp and he slipped underwater.

  “I’ll try to lift you. Forget about the ladder!” Clayton hollered.

  Spader felt himself being pulled out of the water. Wham! He slammed back into the side of the boat again.

  “Too much slack!” Spader cried. “The ropes are getting tangled.”

  Wham! He hit the side of the ship again.

  Could he keep fighting the storm to make it back on board? Or was he going to be pounded senseless first?

  EIGHT

  Spader spun himself a few times, then faced the hull. This shortened the harness straps, giving them a lot less play and allowing him to control it better.

  “Let me try something,” Spader yelled to Clayton. He slipped underwater. He needed to stay out of the raging wind. If he could just keep hold of the grips, he might be able to get to the ladder and try climbing again with less slack. He pulled himself along the side of the boat until he was at the ladder.

  He rode out another wave, clinging to the hull. The moment it began to recede, he clambered up the ladder. Clayton grabbed his shoulder straps and helped him up and over the rail and onto the deck.

  “You all right?” Clayton asked.

  “In one piece,” Spader said.

  “Man overboard!” someone cried.

  “Get out the rescue lines,” Clayton instructed Spader, who quickly unbuckled his harness.

  “On it!” Spader raced to one of the units where the lines were kept. Someone stood there struggling with the latches.

  “Here to help,” Spader said.

  The worker turned around. “I can do it,” Per Watsu snarled.

  Spader took a step back. “Yeah? Then why are the lines still in there, instead of out here where they can do some good?”

  “I said, I’ve got it.” Per turned his back on Spader and went back to trying to get the hold open.

  Spader shoved Per aside. “I can do it faster.”

  “Spader. Get below. Now.”

  Spader turned to find Clayton glaring at him.

  “But—” Spader protested.

  “You’re more harmful than helpful up here. If you two can’t work together, you’re useless.”

  Spader’s cheeks burned with humiliation. He hated being called out like this. And it killed him that Clayton seemed to think he was the one to blame.

  “To the engineering level,” Clayton snapped. “Now. “

  Spader hurried down two levels, his blood boiling. He had done it again. Let Per Watsu get to him.

  It was a busy scene on this level too. Water filled the area knee high, and two crew members worked to bring the water pressure back in line.

  “What can I do?” Spader asked the nearest crew member. Maybe no one would realize he had been sent down below as a reprimand. At least for now.

  “Help Jofels with the connector tubes!” the crew member replied. “The regulators couldn’t handle the sudden influx of water!”

  Spader joined Jofels, who was pounding a large pipe back into place in the ceiling. By the time they got the pipe back together, Spader noticed that the deck wasn’t bucking like a crazed spinney fish anymore.

  “I think the storm is losing power,” Jofels said. “We’re good here, Spader, so go check back in with Clayton.”

  Rain still came down in sheets, but the wind had calmed and so had the waves. Even so, visibility was nil, and Spader’s muscles still ached from the pounding they’d taken while he was being batted around by the roiling waves. He hoped this battle with the elements would be over soon. But he hurried over to Clayton, eager to prove himself.

  “Jofels sent me up,” Spader said, wanting to be clear that he wasn’t disobeying Clayton’s instructions.

  “Check levels on the upper equalizers,” Clayton instructed. “See how close we are to getting back online.”

  Like all ships on Cloral, the vessel was powered by carefully calibrated water pressure. “Got it.” Spader hurried to the nearest gauge. It was off, but was clearly dropping back to a normal level. They didn’t want the pressure to drop too quickly, or it could cause an implosion. But the reading wasn’t in the danger area. He made his way carefully across the slippery deck to the next gauge.

  A thick fog made it impossible to see much farther than a few feet. Spader wondered how far off course they were, and if there were any serious damage.

  Clayton came up beside him. “Well, we’re not in danger of capsizing or sinking anymore. But until we’ve reached full equalization, we’re not going to be moving.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Go up to the pilot’s tower. With some of the systems still offline and this fog, they’ll need help navigating.”

  Spader climbed up the ladder to reach the pilot’s tower, where the navigation systems were. “I’m your extra eyes,” he told the pilot and the navigator. He placed himself in the forward windows and stared out into the gloom.

  “The engineers called up and said the lights s
hould be working any minute now. That will help,” the pilot said.

  As promised, the lights at the bow of the ship came on.

  Spader blinked. “Where did that come from?”

  Not too far off starboard was another vessel, barely visible in the fog.

  “It looks disabled,” the navigator said. “See how it’s drifting?”

  “Probably damaged in the storm,” the pilot commented.

  “It looks as if it’s heading straight toward us!” Spader said.

  “They might not be able to steer properly,” the navigator said. “It’s up to us to keep out of the way.”

  “Until we do a thorough check, we can’t rely on the navigational systems,” the pilot said. “Spader, call out instructions based on what you’re seeing, while we monitor the instruments as backup. We should be able to get safely past.”

  There didn’t seem to be any signs of life on the disabled vessel. All lights were out, and it just floated steadily toward them. Suddenly there was a loud boom, and the window to the pilothouse shattered. Glass and water spewed everywhere.

  The pilot keeled over and landed on the floor beside Spader.

  Dead.

  NINE

  Take cover!” Spader shouted to the navigator. “Raiders go for the pilot’s crew first!”

  He hit the deck as another blast ripped through the pilot’s tower. He rolled quickly across the wet floor just as the navigator thudded down beside him. A quick glance told him the navigator was also dead.

  He peered over the instrument board. The raider ship was much smaller than the vessel he was on. That should mean fewer raiders than crew members. Would the crew be able to fend them off?

  Only if we have enough weapons. Spader tried to remember from his orientation. Most dangers they faced traveling between habitats were natural—like the storm they had just weathered. Raider attacks were actually pretty rare.

  “Stand down!” a voice boomed over the loudspeaker. It sounded like Clayton. “We have a larger crew and weapons to match. And we aren’t carrying anything of value.”