The Shark Rider (11 page)

“Yup,” Hugh told them. “A couple of badly sprained arms and a concussion.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, two large, suckered arms then wrapped around Hugh's arm. Startled, he jumped back. “Very funny, Jack.”

“Yeah, good one,” Tristan laughed.

A rainbow of color washed over the larger octopus's body. A similarly colored wave traveled up Hugh's arm.

Hugh smiled. “Old Jack's not too happy. He says the baby octopus has invaded his space and is getting all the attention.”

The large octopus unwrapped his arms from Hugh. Sitting beside the teacup, Jack then used three of his arms to gently stroke the small, recuperating creature.

“Looks to me like he likes his new roommate,” Sam noted.

“C'mon,” Tristan said. “We'd better get going or we'll be late.”

Hugh told Old Jack about how he used his fingers in the challenge, and then said good-bye to the octopus retiree and his new, but supposedly bothersome, friend. The campers hurried through the connecting door into the chemistry lab. Rosina and Ryder were already there, along with Director Davis and Flash, the camp's tech wizard. The older teen spent most of his time on the computer and monitoring system in the Situation Room.

The director stood at the front of the room. “Nice of you three to join us.”

They sat down on high stools behind a long bench. Tristan checked out the newly renovated lab. It was divided into two sections. One part was a wet lab with
running seawater and rows of tubs and tanks. The other section was dry with several long benches running across the room. Computers, a few microscopes, and some other instruments he didn't recognize sat on the benches.

“Last summer we went over the major ocean currents,” Director Davis announced. “This year you're going to learn how to use a computer model to investigate them further. We use this software to track pollutants and debris—all the plastic, oil, and other chemicals we humans are sadly dumping into the ocean. The computer model is also very helpful in search and rescue operations. Flash here is the real expert.”

“Hey. How's it goin'?” Flash said. “Okay, grab a computer and then click on the spinning globe icon on your screen.”

Each of the teens moved in front of a computer. When Tristan clicked on the spinning globe, it opened to a world map of flowing ocean currents.

“These are the world's major ocean currents and their general direction of flow,” Director Davis explained.

“Right,” Flash added. “If you click on any of the currents, a new screen will pop up. It will show details about that current and allow you to do some pretty wicked stuff.”

“Go ahead and start exploring the software,” Director Davis suggested. “We'll come around and see how you're doing.”

“Check out the track-and-trace feature,” Flash
urged. “That's the really cool part. Especially since I've modified it. You can release a person, a drop of oil, or an object anywhere in the ocean and track where it might go.”

Tristan scanned the ocean currents, clicked on a few, and was just about to try the track-and-trace feature when Hugh nudged him. “Hey, check it out. Here's that island Snaggle-Tooth was talking about—Virgin Gorda. It's in this cluster of islands up here.” He pointed to the top right corner of the Caribbean Sea. To the southwest were Puerto Rico and the US Virgin Islands.

Sam leaned over to see as well. “Those must be the British Virgin Islands, like the director said.”

Hugh clicked on the tracer sidebar and chose an object from the options list. He then clicked on a spot in a wide channel between Virgin Gorda and an island to the west, Tortola. A yellow rubber ducky popped up on the screen. It started moving southwest with the currents in the channel between the two islands. The rubber ducky was then swept into a swirl of water and began going around and around, stuck between two smaller islands labeled Peter and Norman. It suddenly shot out of the swirling eddy, went south, and got caught up in a stronger westerly flow to the south of Puerto Rico. It was in the Caribbean Sea. The teens stared at the screen, fascinated by the winding path of the toy. It soon took a sharp right turn, got sucked into a flow between Puerto Rico and the Dominican Re/files/18/47/48/f184748/public/Haiti, and headed north.

“Look where it's going,” Tristan said, pointing to the islands of the Bahamas.

Just then the director walked over. “What are you three so interested in?”

Before they could answer, Coach Fred pushed through the lab door. He still looked alarmingly pale and a bit rough around the edges. He hurried over to the director and spoke quietly to him.

Director Davis turned to the Snappers and looked them over as if deciding something. He pursed his lips. “I don't know about this.”

“They did well in the challenge for the most part. And their skills are progressing,” Coach Fred said.

Tristan glanced questioningly toward Sam and Hugh, wondering what was going on.

“It seems we have a little situation on our hands,” Director Davis said.

The lights in the lab flickered. Tristan wondered if the “situation” had something to do with the power. There had been two power outages since camp began. Was it Rickerton? Tristan's heart beat a little harder just thinking about the man.

The director hesitated. He glanced with concern at the lights and then turned to Coach Fred, his eyebrows raised. The lights stopped flickering and he continued, “There've been a series of mortality events in the British Virgin Islands.”

Tristan, Sam, and Hugh exchanged knowing looks.

“The cause is unclear, and a colleague in the area has requested our help. However, all of the senior
campers are still helping with the stranded dolphins, and the Squids are clearly in no shape to go.”

“We'll go!” Tristan blurted out excitedly.

The director ignored him. “Unfortunately, we just can't wait any longer. This could have a serious impact on the region and more if it spreads. I've already contacted your parents.” He paused. “After some discussion, they've agreed to let you go—some more readily than others.”

Tristan knew what that meant: his mother.

“Coach Fred will also be going. I expect you all to do exactly as he says.”

They nodded, though Hugh and Rosina did so with slightly less enthusiasm than the others.

“Remember, you will be representing Sea Camp. Your actions can affect us all deeply.”

Tristan was sure that last comment was also meant for him.

“Your job will be to work with Coach Fred and our colleague down there to investigate what is going on and try to find the cause. Now go pack your backpacks, and meet outside the Situation Room in an hour. Oh, and if any of you would prefer to stay here, that's fine as well. Just let me know.”

Tristan could hardly believe it. They were going on an official mission, even though they were only second-summer Snappers. Cool. And he couldn't imagine what the director had said to his mother that convinced her to let him go.

As he was leaving the lab, Tristan paused, looking
back. Coach Fred was standing next to a tall, thin man he didn't recognize. He had wild, steel-gray hair that resembled a badly built bird's nest, with matching scruffy eyebrows, and his clothes were rumpled as if he just fought his way through a powerful windstorm. The man was whispering to Coach Fred and looking around as if to ensure he wasn't being overheard. He furtively handed something to Coach Fred. Tristan couldn't see what it was.

9

SPY GADGETS 'R' US

J
UST OVER AN HOUR LATER
, C
OACH
F
RED AND
Director Davis led the teens to Sea Camp's hidden runway. Tristan was distracted, thinking about the fact that they were going on an actual mission and about just how many ways he could screw up. If he did something stupid, this could be his first and his very last official mission. He nearly tripped over a rock on the path and then stubbed his toe on the edge of the airstrip's asphalt, bumping into Hugh.

“Sorry 'bout that.”

Hugh just nodded. Tristan then realized that since they'd been told about the mission, Hugh had hardly said anything. Maybe he didn't want to go. Should he say something? It wouldn't be the same if Hugh didn't go. Besides, they needed him. Who knew when morphing
your skin like an octopus would come in handy, and his communication skills were really good. Tristan decided not to say anything, hoping that Hugh was just nervous like he was.

Parked about halfway down the runway was a small jet airplane. It was noticeably larger than the one they'd flown in last year.

Ryder was the first to board after Coach lowered the stairs. “Now this is the way to travel.”

The director winked to Tristan as he entered the plane. “Confiscated from some drug runners. Got it cheap with shipwreck funds.”

Tristan gawked at the inside of the plane. It was light, airy, and luxurious. The seats were made of soft, cream-colored leather; some faced forward, others backward, with small tables between them. There was even a couch on one side.

“Okay, everyone grab a seat and buckle up,” the director told them. “I'll be up front with Coach till we level off.”

Ryder and Rosina took seats facing forward up front. Tristan and Hugh sat facing the back across from Sam with a small table between them.

Director Davis cracked a bad joke over the intercom, something to do with sea stars and lighting up at night. He then told them to ensure their seatbelts were secure, explained where the emergency exits and inflatable lifejackets were, and told them how to use the oxygen masks that would drop from the ceiling should the cabin become depressurized.

“Don't remind me.” Hugh cinched his seatbelt tighter.

Tristan smiled, trying to look relaxed to reassure both himself and his friend.

“Okay, this is your captain speaking,” Coach Fred announced over the intercom. “We'll be flying southeast to Beef Island—ETA about four hours. Haven't flown one of these small jets for a while. Shouldn't be too much of a problem. We can probably do a roll or maybe a loop if you'd like.”

“No!” Hugh and Rosina shouted. They were both already trying to squeeze the life out of their armrests.

The plane powered up, taxied down the runway, and soon they were speeding through the air, climbing steeply. Once they leveled off, Director Davis left the cockpit. He grabbed a small bag and a heavy plastic case from a compartment at the front of the plane and went to the couch across the aisle from Tristan. A loud click sounded as he opened the plastic case.

“Okay, campers, a few items to distribute. Then I suggest you all take a nap as the next few days are going to be busy and undoubtedly physically demanding.”

The director handed each of the Snappers a stretchy, black GPS tracking bracelet. He then passed out something that resembled a large, blue, plastic egg. “Put the tracking bracelets on, please. No fiddling with them or the software this time.” He winked at Hugh.

“We are quite proud of this next item. It's a new Sea Camp design.”

Tristan turned the plastic egg over in his hands, trying to figure out exactly what it was. The other Snappers did the same.

“Like, dude, what the heck is it?” Ryder asked.

“At the same time, squeeze the top and bottom of the container,” the director instructed.

Tristan squeezed the egg. He heard a distinct pop, and the thing opened. It was hinged on one side. There was something inside, but he wasn't sure what that was either. It was made of a transparent, rubbery material and looked a lot like a jellyfish.

“Say hello to robo-jelly—the latest in robotic undersea sensors. Once released into the ocean, robo-jelly will become neutrally buoyant at the depth released and then drift in the direction of the current. While tracking water flow, it also measures pressure, temperature, salinity, and pH, and will also detect an array of chemicals.”

“Awesome,” Hugh said, turning the silicone-encased robot in his fingers. “This is one jellyfish I might actually like. How do you get the data from it?”

“Good question, Hugh. The robo-jelly will periodically go to the surface and send its data back to Sea Camp via a satellite link. Then it will sink back to the depth it is tracking. Keep the robo-jellies in their eggs until you're ready to use them. The container is watertight. When robo-jelly is released and gets wet, it automatically turns on.”

“How will we know when to use it?” Sam asked curiously.

“The colleague we'll be working with in the islands should be able to help with that. And here is a map of the area you'll be working in. Get familiar with it, and then, as I said, try to get some sleep. Oops, almost forgot one more very important item.”

The teens looked up expectantly. Tristan wondered what other cool gadget they might get. He felt like James Bond. Maybe they'd get to use an underwater car that fires torpedoes and releases an ink smokescreen or has an ejector seat.

“Lunch!” the director said as he passed out boxed meals. “There are drinks in the small refrigerator in the back. Help yourselves.”