Explorer academy, p.11
Explorer Academy, page 11
Cruz slid the blue box out from under his bed and took out the photograph with the cipher on the back. Opening his bottom dresser drawer, he removed a large red plastic envelope. It was where he kept his important papers, such as awards, certificates, letters, and Aunt Marisol’s postcards. He popped the snap and lifted out the cream envelope on top. “Before she died, my mother wrote a letter to me,” said Cruz. “She told my dad if anything ever happened to her to give the letter to me on my thirteenth birthday. Since my birthday is November twenty-ninth and my dad knew we’d be on Orion, he decided to give the letter to me before I came to the Academy.” Cruz opened the flap and removed the parchment.
“What does it say?” gulped Emmett.
“It’s what it doesn’t say,” said Cruz, unfolding the page. He laid the photo cipher-side up on his bed, then carefully placed the birthday letter from his mother beside it. “See for yourself.”
As Emmett looked from the swirling symbols that bordered the letter to those on the back of the photograph, then back to the letter, his eyes grew. “This is unbelievable! Your mom wrote a coded message to you. I wonder how she knew you’d get it.”
“She must have thought my dad or Aunt Marisol would get her personal belongings from her desk, and once I opened the letter, they’d tell me about the cipher,” said Cruz. “She probably didn’t figure on Aunt Marisol never opening the box or my dad never reading the letter.”
“You mean, you’re the only one who knows about the cipher and message?” When Cruz nodded, Emmett let out a whistle.
Cruz grabbed a small spiral notepad and pencil from his desk and hurried back to sit on his bed.
Emmett started to back away. “This is private stuff. I should let you—”
“Oh no you don’t. You’re in too deep now,” said Cruz with a grin. “Besides, this cipher looks tricky.”
Emmett flopped beside him.
Cruz was glad he’d asked for Emmett’s help. Deciphering the message was painstaking work. Because many of the symbols were similar, it took time to match the swirls from Cruz’s birthday letter to the correct ones on the cipher. Just when they thought they’d hit on a match, one of them would realize the swirl ended a fraction of an inch too high or was facing the wrong way or was missing a dot.
“That’s an n,” said Cruz.
“Are you sure? It looks like a j to me,” said Emmett.
“The j swirl goes counterclockwise. See?”
“Yep, you’re right.” Emmett took off his glasses. “Looking at all these swirls is starting to make my eyes go haywire.”
“Do you want to take a break? I can keep working—”
“No.” Emmett put his glasses back on.
Finally, after more than an hour of poring over the cipher, they decoded the final symbol. Straightening, Cruz read the message.
You are the only one I can entrust with this difficult mission. You are the only one I am certain can endure to the end. Find my journal. Find my life.
Love, Mom
pasc 823912 cslew
“A journal!” cried Emmett. “Your mom kept a journal. I bet it explains what she was working on that put her in so much danger.”
“I hope so,” said Cruz. “Do you think she would have given it to Aunt Marisol or my dad?”
“If she had, why didn’t she say so in the message?”
Emmett was right. The message directed Cruz to find the journal, as if it was buried treasure. That’s it, isn’t it? His mother had tucked her journal away in a secret place for him to uncover. But where?
“I wonder what this means,” said Emmett, pointing to the last line of the message.
“I know PASC,” said Cruz. “Those are my mom’s initials. Petra Alexandria Sebastian Coronado. I don’t know what the numbers and other letters mean.”
Cruz had no idea where to begin looking for the journal. Still, he would not let himself get discouraged. He knew from Aunt Marisol’s puzzle postcards that something that completely baffled you one day could become totally clear the next.
Find my journal. Find my life.
“I will, Mom,” Cruz said softly.
It was more than a goal. It was a promise.
“A HIDDEN journal?” Sailor froze, a bite of cashew chicken salad inches from her mouth. They were eating lunch in the packed dining hall. “This keeps getting weirder and weirder.”
“Tell me about it.” Cruz lifted the bun from his cheeseburger to scrape off the dill pickle slices.
“If you’re not going to eat those…?” asked Emmett before the trio of crinkle-cut pickles had even hit Cruz’s plate.
“They’re yours.” Cruz pushed his plate toward Emmett, but his roommate was sliding out of his chair.
“Be right back,” said Emmett. “I want to get another chili dog before they run out. Gotta get fueled up for today’s big mission.”
When Emmett was gone, Sailor turned to Cruz. “So how are you going to get in?”
“In?”
“You know…”
Cruz shook his head. He didn’t know what she meant.
“The Synthesis,” whispered Sailor. “Where else would your mother’s journal be?”
Cruz had never considered the Synthesis as a hiding spot for his mom’s journal. The place was a fortress. His mom wouldn’t have expected him to look for it there, would she? Oh, sure, he’d gotten in once. By accident. Literally. If Sailor’s hunch was correct, how was he supposed to gain access again? It’s not like he could go up to the door and knock. Could he?
Less than an hour later, Cruz was outside the CAVE with Emmett and Sailor. This time, it was Dugan who was late. Cruz zipped up his heavy coat. He checked his pockets to be sure he had everything: knit cap, wool scarf, and gloves. Their instructions had told them to prepare for damp and windy conditions, with temperatures below freezing. Cruz had put on three layers of clothing and two pairs of socks. He hoped it was enough.
“Below freezing?” Sailor was reading the prep directions again. “Why can’t we go someplace warm? Like Hawaii,” she teased, nudging Cruz. “Tell them we want to go where there’s warm sand and surf. I bet Kauai is paradise.”
“It is,” he said matter-of-factly. “And it isn’t.”
He could tell by her scrunched lips Sailor didn’t understand. How could she? Her family was intact. Even someplace as beautiful as Kauai couldn’t make up for losing your mother.
“Professor Benedict said this was a new program and we’re the first team to try it,” said Emmett.
“Let’s set the bar high for the rest of the teams,” added Sailor, and they all agreed.
They heard clomping. Dugan emerged from the shadows wearing a puffy mint green jacket. A green knit cap with a floppy tassel was pulled down over his ears. Dugan was 12 minutes late. No one said anything, about his outfit or his tardiness, and he offered no apology. With everyone on Team Cousteau present, Renshaw put his Open Sesame band up to the camera. The moment the doors parted, they were blasted by a bitterly cold wind. Putting up a forearm to shield his face, Cruz caught a whiff of salt. He heard seagulls cry. Stepping into the simulator, he felt the sway of wood under his feet. A pier! As the wind subsided, Cruz dropped his arm. To his left, he saw the white-tipped waves of a restless ocean; to the right, a small fishing village. In front of him towered a sleek, gleaming passenger ship. Cruz did not need to read the name on the bow.
“Orion,” he said softly.
A gold stripe ran the length of the vessel, separating the lower section of the navy blue hull from three sparkling white decks and the captain’s bridge. On the mast above the bridge, a blue flag with the Academy’s gold logo billowed against the vanilla sky.
For a moment, nobody said a word.
Renshaw finally broke the silence. “It’s got to be at least a hundred meters long.”
“One hundred and eleven, or three hundred sixty-four feet, to be exact,” corrected Professor Benedict. She had appeared beside Bryndis in holographic form. “Welcome to Nome, Alaska, in December! You are currently one hundred forty miles from the Arctic Circle and one hundred sixty miles east of Russia. The temperature is nineteen degrees Fahrenheit with winds at twenty knots, so I hope you’re all wearing heavy coats.”
“We’ve only been here for two minutes and already I can’t feel my toes,” Sailor muttered to Cruz.
“Did you say ‘toes’ or ‘nose’?”
“Take your pick. Can we get on the boat already?”
“If you haven’t figured it out, today’s exercise will take you aboard the Academy’s flagship expedition vessel,” said Professor Benedict. “You’re now in your third week of training, and you’ll be boarding the real thing in a little over a week, so what better way to get accustomed to shipboard life than here in the simulator?”
Cruz applauded. He couldn’t wait to get on the ship for real and begin traveling the world! Everyone else on Team Cousteau was clapping, too—except Emmett. He was trying to wipe the frost off his glasses.
“Your mission today will be twofold,” said Professor Benedict. “First, follow the glowing yellow arrows and take a complete tour of the ship. Soon it will be your home away from home, so get to know it. Visit everything from the observation deck to the explorers’ cabins to the CAVE.”
Dugan’s jaw dropped. “There’s a CAVE on Orion?”
“Yes, although it’s far smaller than this one. We use it for training and recreation between ports of call,” explained their instructor. “Your second task is more challenging. You are to imagine you are a freelance journalist and photographer for a conservation magazine. Your assignment is to find a news story aboard Orion.”
“What kind of story?” asked Renshaw.
“That, Mr. McKittrick, is up to you,” she said, the corners of her lips sliding up. “A good journalist is always on the lookout for a juicy and important issue to report on. There are many interesting holo-passengers and crew aboard the ship. Talk to them. Perhaps one will spark an idea. Or you may choose to focus on a feature of the ship—for instance, Ridley, the deep-water submersible craft.” She paced the dock. “Remember, the magazine for which you are writing is dedicated to conservation. You must also take photographs with the mind control cameras to complement your story. You’ll find the photography equipment available to check out at the purser’s desk. After the mission, you will write a five-hundred-word article and process three photographs to go along with it. The assignment must be submitted by tomorrow morning at nine a.m. Any questions?”
“Can we work in teams?” asked Bryndis.
“No,” said their teacher. “This is an individual project. You may take the tour together, but after that you are to split up to do your stories. Please do not collaborate or intentionally select the same topic as another teammate. Any other questions?”
When no one spoke, Professor Benedict’s image began to dissolve. “Bon voyage, explorers!”
“I hope they have hot chocolate on the ship,” said Sailor, bouncing on her toes to keep warm.
“It would technically be virtual cocoa,” said Emmett, which earned him a dirty look from Sailor.
“I’ve got dibs on Ridley for my news story,” said Dugan.
Renshaw put up a hand. “Dibs on the captain for mine.”
“I’ll take the research labs,” said Bryndis. “If that’s okay with everyone else.”
“I think I’d like the observation deck,” chimed in Sailor.
“Good choice,” Renshaw said to her. “You’ll probably see a lot when we go through the Bering Strait.”
“Where are you going?” Emmett asked Cruz.
“I don’t know yet,” said Cruz. He didn’t want to pick anything easy or obvious. Professor Benedict had suggested they talk to some of the passengers, so she must have had good reason for it.
Boarding the ship, Cruz and Emmett stuck together for the self-guided tour. They followed the arrows down to the lowest deck, B deck, to see the engine room and submersible, then began working their way back up. Above B deck was the main deck, home to the mini CAVE, housekeeping and laundry, the crew’s quarters, and the lounge. After that, it was another flight up to the second deck. Taking a right off the sunny, open atrium, the pair headed down the stern passage to get a look at the explorers’ cabins.
“Pretty cushy, huh?” said Emmett, bouncing on one of the two beds in a maple-paneled stateroom. “I hope we get to stay roommates.”
Outside on the veranda, leaning on the brass rail, Cruz was about to agree when a bellowing horn startled him. He felt the ship tremble. Foam was churning up from the bottom of the boat. They were under way!
Cruz stayed at the rail, watching the fishing village grow smaller. The ship plowed through rough, steel gray waves, following the rocky, wind-battered coast. Every now and then, the bow hit a small chunk of ice, easily breaking it apart. Beyond the shore, low snow-covered hills stretched miles into the horizon. The stark white landscape was a world away from anything Cruz had ever seen. As the ship continued on its journey, his heart began to pound in anticipation of what was around the next bend. Suddenly, Cruz saw a white blob surface in the waves off the starboard bow. Is that a…?
“Emmett!” called Cruz. “There’s a polar bear out here! Come here. You gotta see this!”
Cruz snapped a bunch of photos of the polar bear swimming toward shore. A few minutes later, when Emmett still hadn’t joined him, Cruz stepped back into the cabin. “Hey, Emmett, you’re missing the—”
His roommate was backed into a corner behind the door, his face pinched and his glasses a dull sand color. Emmett gripped his tablet so tightly Cruz was certain the screen was going to crack. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I didn’t know we were going to…nobody said anything about leaving port.”
“Uh…Professor Benedict did say we were going on a journey and she did say bon voyage, which means—”
“I know what it means.”
“Do you want to go to the sick bay? I think it’s two decks up. I can check…” Cruz dived for his tablet. They still had three decks to go on their tour.
“I’m okay.” Emmett’s forehead sparkled with sweat.
“Maybe we should get you out of the CAVE,” said Cruz, although he had no idea how to do such a thing. The simulator was like a roller coaster. It didn’t exactly stop for you to get off.
“I’ll be fine,” said Emmett. “We’d better go find our stories. You go ahead. I’ll be out in a…in a…” His stomach gurgled.
“Emmett?”
Cheeks bulging, Emmett slapped a hand to his mouth. Staggering past Cruz into the bathroom, he threw up. It was, by upchucking standards, impressive. Emmett hurled pretty much everything he’d had for lunch, which was, by Cruz’s count, three chili dogs, a serving of curly fries, a slice of strawberry cheesecake, 16 ounces of grape soda, and Cruz’s three pickles.
Shuffling out of the bathroom, Emmett eased himself onto the bed he’d bounced on minutes before. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay with me, though I’m not sure the Academy’s going to be thrilled about what just went down in their virtual bathroom.”
“Not a problem.” Emmett laid his head on the pillow. “I’ve seen the CAVE schematics. The toilets are always connected to real 3-D pipes.”
That’s a relief.
Cruz unfolded a velvet navy throw that had been draped across the corner of a chair. He put it over Emmett, then took a seat in one of the two overstuffed navy chairs in the little seating area. Cruz knew Emmett needed rest, but he was starting to grow concerned about time. They needed to get going on their articles soon.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Emmett said weakly. “Why does a guy who gets seasick the second we weigh anchor apply to a program where he’ll have to spend months at sea?”
Cruz made a face. “Well…”
“I guess you could say I’ve been obsessed with coming to the Academy since I was five years old,” he said. “I know everything about it: its founding and history, the name of every professor who ever taught here, even how tall the main building is—eighty-seven feet including the top spire. Being here is all I’ve ever wanted. My parents, though…they don’t think I can do it.”
“I’m sure that’s not true—”
“Oh, they know I’m smart enough. But they don’t think I’m strong enough to handle the physical part. Maybe they’re right.”
“No.” Cruz was firm. “They’re not.”
Emmett threw a hand over his eyes. “I had it all worked out. I’ve got a seasick band for when we board the ship for real, but I didn’t bring it today. If I’d known we were coming on Orion—” His voice broke.
“Relax, Emmett. It could happen to any of us,” said Cruz. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“Motion sickness was one of the things they asked about on the application. I didn’t want to take the chance they’d reject me, so I…I lied. I can’t tell the truth. Not now. What if they send me home?”
“Okay. Let’s think for a minute.” Cruz rubbed his chin. “We just have to get you through this mission.”
Emmett had his hand over his mouth again. “Good luck.”
Setting his elbows on his knees, Cruz clasped his hands and rested his face against his wrist. The OS band felt cool against his cheek. There must be something they could do. Wait a minute…
“Emmett, did you say a seasick band?”
“Uh-huh.”
Cruz turned his arm over. “So you wear it on your wrist?”
“Yeah. It sends electrical impulses through the median nerve to the brain. The pulses interfere with the nauseous signals coming from the stomach to the brain to keep you from feeling sick.” Emmett slowly lowered his hand. He stared at his own gold bracelet. He was beginning to understand.
“What does it say?” gulped Emmett.
“It’s what it doesn’t say,” said Cruz, unfolding the page. He laid the photo cipher-side up on his bed, then carefully placed the birthday letter from his mother beside it. “See for yourself.”
As Emmett looked from the swirling symbols that bordered the letter to those on the back of the photograph, then back to the letter, his eyes grew. “This is unbelievable! Your mom wrote a coded message to you. I wonder how she knew you’d get it.”
“She must have thought my dad or Aunt Marisol would get her personal belongings from her desk, and once I opened the letter, they’d tell me about the cipher,” said Cruz. “She probably didn’t figure on Aunt Marisol never opening the box or my dad never reading the letter.”
“You mean, you’re the only one who knows about the cipher and message?” When Cruz nodded, Emmett let out a whistle.
Cruz grabbed a small spiral notepad and pencil from his desk and hurried back to sit on his bed.
Emmett started to back away. “This is private stuff. I should let you—”
“Oh no you don’t. You’re in too deep now,” said Cruz with a grin. “Besides, this cipher looks tricky.”
Emmett flopped beside him.
Cruz was glad he’d asked for Emmett’s help. Deciphering the message was painstaking work. Because many of the symbols were similar, it took time to match the swirls from Cruz’s birthday letter to the correct ones on the cipher. Just when they thought they’d hit on a match, one of them would realize the swirl ended a fraction of an inch too high or was facing the wrong way or was missing a dot.
“That’s an n,” said Cruz.
“Are you sure? It looks like a j to me,” said Emmett.
“The j swirl goes counterclockwise. See?”
“Yep, you’re right.” Emmett took off his glasses. “Looking at all these swirls is starting to make my eyes go haywire.”
“Do you want to take a break? I can keep working—”
“No.” Emmett put his glasses back on.
Finally, after more than an hour of poring over the cipher, they decoded the final symbol. Straightening, Cruz read the message.
You are the only one I can entrust with this difficult mission. You are the only one I am certain can endure to the end. Find my journal. Find my life.
Love, Mom
pasc 823912 cslew
“A journal!” cried Emmett. “Your mom kept a journal. I bet it explains what she was working on that put her in so much danger.”
“I hope so,” said Cruz. “Do you think she would have given it to Aunt Marisol or my dad?”
“If she had, why didn’t she say so in the message?”
Emmett was right. The message directed Cruz to find the journal, as if it was buried treasure. That’s it, isn’t it? His mother had tucked her journal away in a secret place for him to uncover. But where?
“I wonder what this means,” said Emmett, pointing to the last line of the message.
“I know PASC,” said Cruz. “Those are my mom’s initials. Petra Alexandria Sebastian Coronado. I don’t know what the numbers and other letters mean.”
Cruz had no idea where to begin looking for the journal. Still, he would not let himself get discouraged. He knew from Aunt Marisol’s puzzle postcards that something that completely baffled you one day could become totally clear the next.
Find my journal. Find my life.
“I will, Mom,” Cruz said softly.
It was more than a goal. It was a promise.
“A HIDDEN journal?” Sailor froze, a bite of cashew chicken salad inches from her mouth. They were eating lunch in the packed dining hall. “This keeps getting weirder and weirder.”
“Tell me about it.” Cruz lifted the bun from his cheeseburger to scrape off the dill pickle slices.
“If you’re not going to eat those…?” asked Emmett before the trio of crinkle-cut pickles had even hit Cruz’s plate.
“They’re yours.” Cruz pushed his plate toward Emmett, but his roommate was sliding out of his chair.
“Be right back,” said Emmett. “I want to get another chili dog before they run out. Gotta get fueled up for today’s big mission.”
When Emmett was gone, Sailor turned to Cruz. “So how are you going to get in?”
“In?”
“You know…”
Cruz shook his head. He didn’t know what she meant.
“The Synthesis,” whispered Sailor. “Where else would your mother’s journal be?”
Cruz had never considered the Synthesis as a hiding spot for his mom’s journal. The place was a fortress. His mom wouldn’t have expected him to look for it there, would she? Oh, sure, he’d gotten in once. By accident. Literally. If Sailor’s hunch was correct, how was he supposed to gain access again? It’s not like he could go up to the door and knock. Could he?
Less than an hour later, Cruz was outside the CAVE with Emmett and Sailor. This time, it was Dugan who was late. Cruz zipped up his heavy coat. He checked his pockets to be sure he had everything: knit cap, wool scarf, and gloves. Their instructions had told them to prepare for damp and windy conditions, with temperatures below freezing. Cruz had put on three layers of clothing and two pairs of socks. He hoped it was enough.
“Below freezing?” Sailor was reading the prep directions again. “Why can’t we go someplace warm? Like Hawaii,” she teased, nudging Cruz. “Tell them we want to go where there’s warm sand and surf. I bet Kauai is paradise.”
“It is,” he said matter-of-factly. “And it isn’t.”
He could tell by her scrunched lips Sailor didn’t understand. How could she? Her family was intact. Even someplace as beautiful as Kauai couldn’t make up for losing your mother.
“Professor Benedict said this was a new program and we’re the first team to try it,” said Emmett.
“Let’s set the bar high for the rest of the teams,” added Sailor, and they all agreed.
They heard clomping. Dugan emerged from the shadows wearing a puffy mint green jacket. A green knit cap with a floppy tassel was pulled down over his ears. Dugan was 12 minutes late. No one said anything, about his outfit or his tardiness, and he offered no apology. With everyone on Team Cousteau present, Renshaw put his Open Sesame band up to the camera. The moment the doors parted, they were blasted by a bitterly cold wind. Putting up a forearm to shield his face, Cruz caught a whiff of salt. He heard seagulls cry. Stepping into the simulator, he felt the sway of wood under his feet. A pier! As the wind subsided, Cruz dropped his arm. To his left, he saw the white-tipped waves of a restless ocean; to the right, a small fishing village. In front of him towered a sleek, gleaming passenger ship. Cruz did not need to read the name on the bow.
“Orion,” he said softly.
A gold stripe ran the length of the vessel, separating the lower section of the navy blue hull from three sparkling white decks and the captain’s bridge. On the mast above the bridge, a blue flag with the Academy’s gold logo billowed against the vanilla sky.
For a moment, nobody said a word.
Renshaw finally broke the silence. “It’s got to be at least a hundred meters long.”
“One hundred and eleven, or three hundred sixty-four feet, to be exact,” corrected Professor Benedict. She had appeared beside Bryndis in holographic form. “Welcome to Nome, Alaska, in December! You are currently one hundred forty miles from the Arctic Circle and one hundred sixty miles east of Russia. The temperature is nineteen degrees Fahrenheit with winds at twenty knots, so I hope you’re all wearing heavy coats.”
“We’ve only been here for two minutes and already I can’t feel my toes,” Sailor muttered to Cruz.
“Did you say ‘toes’ or ‘nose’?”
“Take your pick. Can we get on the boat already?”
“If you haven’t figured it out, today’s exercise will take you aboard the Academy’s flagship expedition vessel,” said Professor Benedict. “You’re now in your third week of training, and you’ll be boarding the real thing in a little over a week, so what better way to get accustomed to shipboard life than here in the simulator?”
Cruz applauded. He couldn’t wait to get on the ship for real and begin traveling the world! Everyone else on Team Cousteau was clapping, too—except Emmett. He was trying to wipe the frost off his glasses.
“Your mission today will be twofold,” said Professor Benedict. “First, follow the glowing yellow arrows and take a complete tour of the ship. Soon it will be your home away from home, so get to know it. Visit everything from the observation deck to the explorers’ cabins to the CAVE.”
Dugan’s jaw dropped. “There’s a CAVE on Orion?”
“Yes, although it’s far smaller than this one. We use it for training and recreation between ports of call,” explained their instructor. “Your second task is more challenging. You are to imagine you are a freelance journalist and photographer for a conservation magazine. Your assignment is to find a news story aboard Orion.”
“What kind of story?” asked Renshaw.
“That, Mr. McKittrick, is up to you,” she said, the corners of her lips sliding up. “A good journalist is always on the lookout for a juicy and important issue to report on. There are many interesting holo-passengers and crew aboard the ship. Talk to them. Perhaps one will spark an idea. Or you may choose to focus on a feature of the ship—for instance, Ridley, the deep-water submersible craft.” She paced the dock. “Remember, the magazine for which you are writing is dedicated to conservation. You must also take photographs with the mind control cameras to complement your story. You’ll find the photography equipment available to check out at the purser’s desk. After the mission, you will write a five-hundred-word article and process three photographs to go along with it. The assignment must be submitted by tomorrow morning at nine a.m. Any questions?”
“Can we work in teams?” asked Bryndis.
“No,” said their teacher. “This is an individual project. You may take the tour together, but after that you are to split up to do your stories. Please do not collaborate or intentionally select the same topic as another teammate. Any other questions?”
When no one spoke, Professor Benedict’s image began to dissolve. “Bon voyage, explorers!”
“I hope they have hot chocolate on the ship,” said Sailor, bouncing on her toes to keep warm.
“It would technically be virtual cocoa,” said Emmett, which earned him a dirty look from Sailor.
“I’ve got dibs on Ridley for my news story,” said Dugan.
Renshaw put up a hand. “Dibs on the captain for mine.”
“I’ll take the research labs,” said Bryndis. “If that’s okay with everyone else.”
“I think I’d like the observation deck,” chimed in Sailor.
“Good choice,” Renshaw said to her. “You’ll probably see a lot when we go through the Bering Strait.”
“Where are you going?” Emmett asked Cruz.
“I don’t know yet,” said Cruz. He didn’t want to pick anything easy or obvious. Professor Benedict had suggested they talk to some of the passengers, so she must have had good reason for it.
Boarding the ship, Cruz and Emmett stuck together for the self-guided tour. They followed the arrows down to the lowest deck, B deck, to see the engine room and submersible, then began working their way back up. Above B deck was the main deck, home to the mini CAVE, housekeeping and laundry, the crew’s quarters, and the lounge. After that, it was another flight up to the second deck. Taking a right off the sunny, open atrium, the pair headed down the stern passage to get a look at the explorers’ cabins.
“Pretty cushy, huh?” said Emmett, bouncing on one of the two beds in a maple-paneled stateroom. “I hope we get to stay roommates.”
Outside on the veranda, leaning on the brass rail, Cruz was about to agree when a bellowing horn startled him. He felt the ship tremble. Foam was churning up from the bottom of the boat. They were under way!
Cruz stayed at the rail, watching the fishing village grow smaller. The ship plowed through rough, steel gray waves, following the rocky, wind-battered coast. Every now and then, the bow hit a small chunk of ice, easily breaking it apart. Beyond the shore, low snow-covered hills stretched miles into the horizon. The stark white landscape was a world away from anything Cruz had ever seen. As the ship continued on its journey, his heart began to pound in anticipation of what was around the next bend. Suddenly, Cruz saw a white blob surface in the waves off the starboard bow. Is that a…?
“Emmett!” called Cruz. “There’s a polar bear out here! Come here. You gotta see this!”
Cruz snapped a bunch of photos of the polar bear swimming toward shore. A few minutes later, when Emmett still hadn’t joined him, Cruz stepped back into the cabin. “Hey, Emmett, you’re missing the—”
His roommate was backed into a corner behind the door, his face pinched and his glasses a dull sand color. Emmett gripped his tablet so tightly Cruz was certain the screen was going to crack. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I didn’t know we were going to…nobody said anything about leaving port.”
“Uh…Professor Benedict did say we were going on a journey and she did say bon voyage, which means—”
“I know what it means.”
“Do you want to go to the sick bay? I think it’s two decks up. I can check…” Cruz dived for his tablet. They still had three decks to go on their tour.
“I’m okay.” Emmett’s forehead sparkled with sweat.
“Maybe we should get you out of the CAVE,” said Cruz, although he had no idea how to do such a thing. The simulator was like a roller coaster. It didn’t exactly stop for you to get off.
“I’ll be fine,” said Emmett. “We’d better go find our stories. You go ahead. I’ll be out in a…in a…” His stomach gurgled.
“Emmett?”
Cheeks bulging, Emmett slapped a hand to his mouth. Staggering past Cruz into the bathroom, he threw up. It was, by upchucking standards, impressive. Emmett hurled pretty much everything he’d had for lunch, which was, by Cruz’s count, three chili dogs, a serving of curly fries, a slice of strawberry cheesecake, 16 ounces of grape soda, and Cruz’s three pickles.
Shuffling out of the bathroom, Emmett eased himself onto the bed he’d bounced on minutes before. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay with me, though I’m not sure the Academy’s going to be thrilled about what just went down in their virtual bathroom.”
“Not a problem.” Emmett laid his head on the pillow. “I’ve seen the CAVE schematics. The toilets are always connected to real 3-D pipes.”
That’s a relief.
Cruz unfolded a velvet navy throw that had been draped across the corner of a chair. He put it over Emmett, then took a seat in one of the two overstuffed navy chairs in the little seating area. Cruz knew Emmett needed rest, but he was starting to grow concerned about time. They needed to get going on their articles soon.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Emmett said weakly. “Why does a guy who gets seasick the second we weigh anchor apply to a program where he’ll have to spend months at sea?”
Cruz made a face. “Well…”
“I guess you could say I’ve been obsessed with coming to the Academy since I was five years old,” he said. “I know everything about it: its founding and history, the name of every professor who ever taught here, even how tall the main building is—eighty-seven feet including the top spire. Being here is all I’ve ever wanted. My parents, though…they don’t think I can do it.”
“I’m sure that’s not true—”
“Oh, they know I’m smart enough. But they don’t think I’m strong enough to handle the physical part. Maybe they’re right.”
“No.” Cruz was firm. “They’re not.”
Emmett threw a hand over his eyes. “I had it all worked out. I’ve got a seasick band for when we board the ship for real, but I didn’t bring it today. If I’d known we were coming on Orion—” His voice broke.
“Relax, Emmett. It could happen to any of us,” said Cruz. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“Motion sickness was one of the things they asked about on the application. I didn’t want to take the chance they’d reject me, so I…I lied. I can’t tell the truth. Not now. What if they send me home?”
“Okay. Let’s think for a minute.” Cruz rubbed his chin. “We just have to get you through this mission.”
Emmett had his hand over his mouth again. “Good luck.”
Setting his elbows on his knees, Cruz clasped his hands and rested his face against his wrist. The OS band felt cool against his cheek. There must be something they could do. Wait a minute…
“Emmett, did you say a seasick band?”
“Uh-huh.”
Cruz turned his arm over. “So you wear it on your wrist?”
“Yeah. It sends electrical impulses through the median nerve to the brain. The pulses interfere with the nauseous signals coming from the stomach to the brain to keep you from feeling sick.” Emmett slowly lowered his hand. He stared at his own gold bracelet. He was beginning to understand.
