Pendragon - The Lost City Of Faar Part 27

I had a brief feeling like we were inside one of those snow globes that you shook to create a storm. I wondered how long it would take for erosion to start doing its worst. Eventually the city would turn to sand, but for now it was intact. It was hard to believe that only a short time ago it had been completely dry and busy with people. "There we go!" announced Spader.

We were nearing the hauler hangar. I was thrilled to see that it looked pretty much the same as when we saw it last. The building hadn't collapsed under the weight of the water. There was the pile of dome rubble in front of the entrance, but other than that nothing new had fallen down that would stop us from getting through. Now the question was whether the mechanical arm could move the stuff away.

Spader put the hauler down on the same path we had run along just a while ago. We landed so gently that only a small cloud of sand was kicked up.

"Give it a go, mate," he said.

He meant the mechanical arm. I grabbed the other joystick that was at my right arm and twisted it. The mechanical sound around us proved the arm was activated and working. The long, white tube of an arm had about four joints so it could move in pretty much any direction. On the end was a large, white mechanical hand. It had three fingers and a thumb, like Fred Flintstone. Swiveling the joystick made the arm move easily. It took me all of thirty seconds to figure out how to move it. Finally I discovered that pulling the trigger on the joystick made the hand close shut. I maneuvered the arm out in front of the hauler, brought the hand back, and right in front of Spader, released the trigger so the hand opened wide - and waved at him.

Spader laughed.

"Iguess you've got it figured out," he said.

I was totally ready to begin the excavation.

Spader gently lifted the hauler off the bottom and got us in position over the pile of rubble in front of the hangar entrance.

"Go slow," he said. "Once you grab on to a piece, I'll pull us back. I gotta be careful though, I don't want to start kicking up sand or we'll be blind down here."

I rubbed my hands together, grabbed the joystick, and made my first attempt. I reached the long arm out and found a small piece of rubble. This was just a test. I maneuvered the hand over the chunk, squeezed the trigger, and the hand clamped on. I then lifted the piece away and dropped it off to the side.

"That was spiff," said Spader, as if he expected it to be harder.

"Let's try something a little bigger," I said with confidence.

I saw a chunk of coral sticking out of the pile. It looked perfect to grab on to. Spader didn't even have to move the hauler. I eased the arm over toward it and latched on with no trouble. But as I tried to pull back, there was some serious resistance.

"It's not moving," I said.

"Let's use hauler power," said Spader.

He started to ease the hauler backward, but the piece still wouldn't budge. Spader hit the throttle, the engines whined, but still the piece wouldn't budge.

Spader said, "Maybe you should try a smaller - "

Suddenly the piece broke free, and so did the pile of rubble. It seemed as if half the pile had been leaning against this one little piece and when we pulled it loose, it was like pulling a card out from the bottom of a house of cards. Huge pieces of dome tumbled toward us and hit the bubble of the hauler. The impact knocked us back and we twisted over on our side. Then another piece hit us from the other side and spun us back the other way. Sand was swirling everywhere. It was impossible to see. Then with a jolt, we hit the bottom on our side and two more heavy pieces fell down on us. There was nothing we could do but hold our breath and hope we wouldn't spring a leak. We finally ended up on our side with a bunch of broken dome all over us.

"Wrong piece," said Spader.

"Yeah, no kidding."

We didn't move for a while and let the sand settle so we could see what the deal was. I was convinced we were now pinned here on the bottom of Faar and was already making plans to put on our air globes and abandon s.h.i.+p, when Spader gently gunned the engine. I was thrilled to see we could move. He slowly backed us away from the pile of rubble and let it fall down in front of us. We were completely free now, so Spader righted us and we were hovering once again.

"Let's pick our pieces a bit more scientifically this time, right?" Spader said.

I gave him a sideways "give me a break" look, then started scanning the pile of rubble to choose my next victim. After what had just happened, it was obvious that this wasn't going to be a quick task. We were going to have to start at the top and only move pieces that were completely clear. We couldn't afford to have another collapse. This was going to be like playing a game of Jengaa a reallydangerousgame of Jenga.

So we went about the painstaking task of moving the pile. Of course the little pieces were easy. The bigger pieces took a lot more power. One good thing was that because we were underwater, they were a lot lighter than they would have been on land. Many of these pieces were wide, thick chunks of material that withstood centuries of pressure. We pulled off a few pieces that were bigger than a car. I was afraid those pieces would be too much for the hauler, but the little vehicle proved time and again that it was up to the task.

I don't know how long we were digging. It could have been hours. I tried to focus on the job and not think about the worst, which was that we were too late for Uncle Press and the Faarians.

Finally, with one final tug from the hauler, we pulled over a huge chunk of dome and revealed the doorway to the hangar.

"Yeah!" I shouted.

"Hobey!" added Spader.

It was unbelievable that we had gotten this far. But our victory celebration was short-lived because almost immediately our thoughts went on to the next step. We had no idea what we were going to find beyond that door.

"Uh-oh," said Spader ominously.

I hated "uh-oh." Nothing good ever happened after "uh-oh."

He pointed to a gash that was cut in the wall that must have been made by a falling piece of dome. The gash was so big, it went right through the wall. That meant that as soon as the rising water got high enough, it would have flooded the hangar. We could only hope that the Faarians had their swim-skins, and that they could buddy-breathe with Uncle Press. If not, the hauler hangar was now a tomb.

Spader gently touched the throttle and the hauler eased closer to the door. I shone the headlight on it so we could see exactly what we had to deal with. The door itself was bent. I hoped that didn't mean it was jammed or anything.

I reached for the joystick of the mechanical arm and was about to go after the door handle, when something caught my eye. It was a flicker of movement. I quickly looked to see that it had come from the gash in the wall. Something was moving in there! "Don't stop now," said Spader with excitement. He'd seen it too.

I had to force myself to keep calm. We were too close now for me to blow it by doing something dumb. So I slowly moved the mechanical arm over to the handle and grabbed on. I tried to tug it open using just the arm, but it wouldn't budge.

"Back it up," I said to Spader.

The engines of the hauler began to whine. But the door still wouldn't budge. Spader throttled up. I could hear the engines strain, but the door wouldn't move.

"I'm going to really gun it," said Spader. "If the door pops, release it quick or - "

Crack!

The door gave way. I instantly released the trigger and we went sailing backward. Spader threw on the water brakes and stopped us before we slammed into anything from behind.

"Go back, go back!" I shouted.

Spader reversed the engines and we moved right back to the hangar and to the now open door. I shone the light on it, hoping that whoever was inside would see it and know that this was the way out. We hovered there, and waited.

"C'mon," I begged. "C'mon!"

"We saw something move in there, right?" Spader asked.

"Yeah, I thought that - look!"

Something moved inside the open door! I held my breath. Was someone still alive in there, or was it a floating corpse?

Then a Faarian in a green swimskin poked his head out of the doorway. He was alive! He held his hand up to s.h.i.+eld his eyes from our bright light and looked around the sunken city in wonder. He then gave a wave, and with a kick, began swimming to the surface.

I couldn't stop smiling. We had saved at least one of the Faarians, but were there more? And what about Uncle Press?

One by one, more Faarians in swimskins began to float out of the door and swim to the surface. It was kind of eerie. They were like green ghosts floating up and out of a grave. Then again, this wasn't a grave. This building had saved them from being crushed and drowned - or drowned and crushed. It wasn't a tomb at all; it was their lifeboat.

I kept waiting to see Uncle Press. Since he didn't have his air globe, I expected to see him emerge from the doorway while buddy-breathing with one of the Faarians. But after counting fourteen swimmers, there was no Uncle Press. I started to get nervous again. Could all the Faarians have survived because they had swimskins, but Uncle Press have died because he didn't have the right gear? That wasn't fair. But still, n.o.body else was coming out! I was all set to put on my air globe and figure out a way to get out of this hauler to go look for him, when a knock came on the outside of the bubble. I turned to my right and came face-to-face with a Faarian in a swimskin. "Ahhh!" I jumped again.

Since the skins completely covered their heads, they were kind of creepy looking. Imagine Spider-man as a frog, and you'd pretty much have a Faarian in a swimskin.

This guy clung to the bubble of the hauler and was pointing at something.

"What does he want?" Spader asked.

"He's trying to tell us something," I said.

The Faarian was pointing to something inside the hauler, behind my head. I spun around and saw that perched on a hook behind my seat was a pair of headphones. Spader had a pair behind him as well. I pointed to the headphones and looked at the Faarian. He nodded.

Spader and I both shrugged and put the headphones on. We then looked back to the Faarian and heard a familiar voice say, "What took you so long?"

It was Uncle Press!

"Yeah! All right! Hobey-ho!" we shouted. Spader and I were over the moon. I guess the Faarians had an extra skinsuit in the hangar.

"How did you end up with this hauler?" Uncle Press asked.

"Long story," I answered.

"How bad is it?" he asked.

"Faar is underwater," I said. "Saint Dane blew a hole in the dome. But the entire city was evacuated. As far as I know there was only one casualty - the old man from the Council of Faar. What about the other haulers? Were they launched?"

"No, they're all still in there," Uncle Press said. "The outside doors were buried."

That was horrible news. The underwater farms of Cloral couldn't be saved. Saint Dane was still going to win.

"We should get out of here, mates," said Spader. "Find something to hang on to, Press. We'll give you a ride."

Uncle Press couldn't get inside the hauler because we were watertight. He would have to hitch a ride to the surface. He found a spot behind the bubble and grabbed on.

"Watch out," I said. "There's a lot of junk floating around."

Spader pushed the throttle, lifted the nose and we began our final ascent from Faar. We had to go slowly because we didn't want Uncle Press to get swept off. Besides, we weren't in any hurry. It gave me time to fill him in on all that had happened since we split up. The hard truth hit him the same as it did me. We had totally failed. The underwater farms were still producing poison crops, Faar was destroyed, and Cloral was on the verge of chaos. Even if Yenza had a complete victory over Saint Dane topside, it wouldn't matter. The damage was done.

The three of us fell silent during our final stage of the ascent. I wanted to take one last look around at the city that died trying to be the salvation of Cloral. The last chapter in the legend of the Lost City of Faar was a tragic one. And no figure was more tragic than poor Abador, Senior to the Council of Faar, who died trying to fulfill his destiny. Whatever transpire was, it would never happen. Instead it would be just one more unexplained mystery in the myth.

That's when a thought came to me.

"Stop," I commanded.

"What?"

"Stop right here," I said.

Spader stopped our ascent and we hovered in midwater.

"What's up, Bobby?" asked Uncle Press.

"Faar is dead. There's nothing we can do to save it. And there's nothing we can do to bring the rest of the haulers up to save the crops, right?"

"Yeah, that's about how the day has gone," said Spader. "What's your point?"

"My point is there's nothing else to lose."

"You getting philosophical on us, or is this leading somewhere?" Uncle Press asked from outside the hauler.

"I think we should take it all the way. We should complete Faar's destiny."

"Which isa?"

"Transpire," I said sharply. "I say we finish what Abador couldn't."

Uncle Press said, "But we don't even know what that is. You said yourself it might be a self-destruct mechanism."

"So what?" I shot back. "If that's the way the Faarians wanted it, then I think they deserve to end things the way they planned. It can't make things any worse for Cloral,right? Abador said they had been preparing for this moment for generations. Who are we to deny them?"

I looked to Spader for an opinion. He only shrugged.

"Why not?" he added.

I looked outside the bubble to Uncle Press, but it was impossible to read any expression on his face since it was covered by a green swimskin.

"Do you know how to do it?" he asked.

"I think so."

"Then you're right. There's nothing to lose," he said. "Let's do it."

"Get us back to the Council Circle," I said to Spader.

Spader took control and we started moving again. In a few minutes we were once again hovering over the platform and looking down jit Abador's hand that, tragically, had fallen only a few feet short.

"You have no way of knowing this, old man," I said to Abador. "But we'll finish it for you."

"What do I do?" asked Uncle Press.

"You see that blinking yellow light?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"There are three other crystal switches. One of them must be the control to transpire."

"Okay, which one?"

"Beats me," I answered. "If in doubt, eenie, meenie, miney, mo. I'm partial to mo."