The Star Dunes Read online

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  Book design by Eva Absher-Schantz, adapted for ebook

  Codes and puzzles developed by Dr. Gareth Moore

  Hardcover ISBN 9781426336812

  Reinforced library binding ISBN 9781426336829

  Ebook ISBN 9781426336836

  v5.4_c2

  a

  FOR JACQUES, WITH LOVE, FROM KIDDO —T.T.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  The Truth Behind the Fiction

  Excerpt from The Tiger’s Nest

  Acknowledgments

  Illustration Credits

  PRAISE FOR THE EXPLORER ACADEMY SERIES

  “A fun, exciting, and action-packed ride that kids will love.”

  —J. J. Abrams, award-winning film and television creator, writer, producer, and director

  “Inspires the next generation of curious kids to go out into our world and discover something unexpected.”

  —James Cameron, National Geographic Explorer-in-Residence and acclaimed filmmaker

  “…a fully packed high-tech adventure that offers both cool, educational facts about the planet and a diverse cast of fun characters.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Thrill-seeking readers are going to love Cruz and his friends and want to follow them on every step of their high-tech, action-packed adventure.”

  —Lauren Tarshis, author of the I Survived series

  “Absolutely brilliant! Explorer Academy is a fabulous feast for mind and heart—a thrilling, inspiring journey with compelling characters, wondrous places, and the highest possible stakes. Just as there’s only one planet Earth, there’s only one series like this. Don’t wait another instant to enjoy this phenomenal adventure!”

  —T. A. Barron, author of the Merlin Saga

  “Nonstop action and a mix of full-color photographs and drawings throughout make this appealing to aspiring explorers and reluctant readers alike, and the cliffhanger ending ensures they’ll be coming back for more.”

  —School Library Journal

  “Explorer Academy is sure to awaken readers’ inner adventurer and curiosity about the world around them. But you don’t have to take my word for it—check out Cruz, Emmett, Sailor, and Lani’s adventures for yourself!”

  —LeVar Burton, actor, director, author, and host of the PBS children’s series Reading Rainbow

  “Fast-moving and emotional, Explorer Academy is a sensational middle grade adventure that will stimulate the minds of young readers.”

  —Foreword Reviews

  “I promise: Once you enter Explorer Academy, you’ll never want to leave.”

  —Valerie Tripp, co-creator and author of the American Girl series

  “…the book’s real strength rests in its adventure, as its heroes…tackle puzzles and simulated missions as part of the educational process. Maps, letters, and puzzles bring the exploration to life, and back matter explores the ‘Truth Behind the Fiction’…This exciting series…introduces young readers to the joys of science and nature.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Both my 8-year-old girl and 12-year-old boy LOVED this book. It’s fun and adventure and mystery all rolled into one.”

  —Mom blogger, Beckham Project

  WE DON’T INHERIT THE EARTH FROM OUR ANCESTORS; WE BORROW IT FROM OUR CHILDREN.

  —Native American proverb

  24.7681° S   |   15.2959° E

  A DROP OF WATER splashed onto Cruz’s forehead.

  “Emmett,” he moaned, feeling the bead roll down his temple. “One more minute.”

  Cruz was drifting off again, when another drop tapped him on the bridge of his nose. “Okay, okay.” His roommate was right. They’d be in big trouble if they were late to class. Cruz yawned, his eyelids fluttering. “You win, Emmett. I’m…” The creamy white ceiling he expected to see was, instead, a forbidding black hole. “…up,” he gulped.

  He remembered now. Cruz was not in his soft, warm bed in cabin 202 on board Orion, Explorer Academy’s flagship vessel. Not even close. He was huddled at the bottom of a cold, damp cave somewhere outside of Aksaray, Turkey. Cruz’s neck was tipped back. His head, rather than being cradled in his cloud of a pillow, was awkwardly butted up against unforgiving rock. The last thing he recalled before falling asleep was peering up into the stone well he’d fallen down. Cruz had scanned the void for any hint of light, any sign that help was on the way. He had seen only darkness then. And now.

  “Achoo!” With the sneeze, Cruz’s head snapped forward. A cramp shot through his neck. “Ow!” he yelped, and his cry echoed back to him. “Ow…ow…ow.”

  Cruz scooted out from under the dribble of water. Bones lay scattered around him like driftwood on the beach after a storm. The good news was they no longer frightened him. At first, coming face-to-skull with a dozen or so skeletons had freaked him out. To get his heart to stop trying to leap out of his chest, Cruz had told himself it wasn’t so bad. He would have been excited to uncover even a tiny piece of bone near the surface, so there was no reason to panic over finding a bunch of them so far below it, right? That sounded good. Plus, it had kept his heart where it belonged.

  Once Cruz realized he had survived the tumble into the cave, his first impulse had been to reach into the upper pocket of his uniform for Mell, his honeybee drone. She could fly to the surface for help. Unfortunately, his pocket was empty. He’d left the little drone back on Orion. Mell was on a mission of her own. A few weeks back, Bryndis had shown him a blue door she’d discovered on the lowest deck of the ship. Cruz had left Mell perched above the mystery door to record anyone entering or leaving the room. Soon after, the drone had captured Jericho Miles on video. It was quite a surprise to Cruz. Jericho was a tech who worked in the top secret Synthesis lab in the basement of the Academy. So what was he doing on board Orion? Emmett had said it probably wasn’t anything to worry about, reasoning that Explorer Academy was the perfect cover for the Synthesis to travel the world and conduct classified research. Still, Cruz couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on.

  Cruz glanced at the clock on his school-issued Organic Synchronization wrist-band (aka the Open Sesame passkey band). The thin gold screen read 3:12 a.m. Seriously? He’d been stuck here for 11 hours! The numbers were flickering. The mini solar-powered computer must be losing juice. Cruz let out a ragged breath. So far, his attempts to contact the surface had failed.

  Cruz tapped his communications pin. “Cruz Coronado to Marisol Coronado.”

  He got no response from his aunt.

  Numb fingertips touched the pin again. “Cruz to Emmett Lu?”

  Again, nothing. Cruz tried the rest of his teammates—Sailor York, Bryndis Jónsdóttir, and Dugan Marsh. No answer.

  Before his mishap, Cruz had been on an archaeological mission with the rest of the explorers. It had begun as a class assignment on board Orion. Team Cousteau—Cruz’s team—had been scouring satellite images looking for looting pits, when they’d come across the outline of an unknown archaeologi cal feature. Thinking they may have stumbled onto an ancient tomb or temple, Aunt Marisol and Dr. Luben had led all 23 explorers to the actual location in Turkey. Cruz had been excavating alongside his teammates, when he’d broken away to check out an outcrop. The rest was blurry. One minute he was examining prehistoric art on the wall of a cave, and the next he was plunging down a hole. Still, Cruz was lucky. His OS band indicated he’d suffered only a slight concussion and minor bruises. It could have been worse. Had he landed a few feet to the left, he would have hit solid rock instead of hard-packed dirt.

  Cruz suddenly sat up. There had been something else, too…before the fall. A jolt. It hadn’t come from beneath him, not like an earthquake or a landslide. It was more like…

  Pressure. Yes. When he’d leaned into the space to look down, Cruz had felt a pressure between his shoulder blades. The fog of uncertainty was beginning to clear. His fall was no accident. He’d been pushed! And there was no doubt in Cruz’s mind who was behind it: Nebula. Several weeks ago, he’d received an anonymous note warning him that Nebula’s spies were out to steal the journal and kill him before he turned 13. Yet, Cruz still had the journal safely tucked in the upper-left pocket of his jacket. And today was November 29—his 13th birthday.

  “You’re zero for two, Nebula,” Cruz shouted into the empty cavern. “I’m still alive!” “Alive…ive…ive,” proudly proclaimed his echo.

  But for how long?

  This was not how he’d planned to spend his birthday. His father would be calling. Maybe he’d already tried. Cruz sure wished he could talk to his dad. His mom, too. But only one of those things was truly possible. He wondered if his dad had gotten him the new hover surfboard he’d been asking for. Okay, begging for. Cruz gazed at his stone prison. Home felt like a galaxy away.

  It was his own fault. Cruz had broken the two most important rules of exploring. Rule number one: Never go by yourself. Rule number two: Always tell your expedition leader where you’re headed. Cruz had done neither of those things. Dr. Luben had been the one to first point out the unusual cave to Cruz. Cruz’s only hope was that the visiting instructor would remember doing so and lead the team to the cave. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

  Cruz slid over a bit farther to avoid the dripping water, which was now a steady trickle. Listening to the water was making him thirsty. He wished he could put his mouth under the flow but knew better. The water might contain bacteria, parasites, or chemicals. If only he had his aluminum bottle and survival kit, he could purify it. However, the bottle, along with his phone, tablet, and the rest of his gear were all in his backpack. Cruz had no clue where that was—maybe snagged on one of the pointed rocks that had jabbed him as he’d tumbled into the cave.

  A powerful rumble came from the pit of his stomach. How long could he survive without food and water? Emmett would likely know the answer to that (probably to the minute). Cruz knew the more general one. Without fresh water, he could survive three to four days. Four days of sitting here waiting to die? No thanks.

  Before falling asleep, Cruz had searched the well for an escape tunnel. He’d found nothing, but he’d been sore and dazed then. He might have missed something. Getting on all fours, Cruz began to crawl around the perimeter of the cave. He went much slower this time, probing every inch. There had to be a way out.

  “Or not.” He grimaced, gently rolling a skull out of his path.

  About halfway around the well, he noticed a pile of rocks stacked up against the curved wall. They might be blocking an outlet. Cruz began to move the basketball-size stones, one by one. He got into a rhythm. Bend, lift, turn, toss. Bend, lift, turn, toss.

  Ten minutes later, Cruz was huffing and about to take a break, when he realized his shoes were wet. Water was seeping through the space he was making. If water was getting in, that meant…

  A way out! Cruz picked up the pace. He moved several more rocks, then, hunching his shoulders, he wriggled into the opening. There were only more rocks ahead of him. It was a dead end. A very wet dead end.

  Reversing course, Cruz scrambled to put the stones back into place, packing them in as tightly as he could. But he couldn’t keep the flow of water from gushing in. The grotto was quickly beginning to fill. Cruz had to get to higher ground. He hopped onto the only thing he could find: a rocky shelf about three feet tall. It was barely big enough to stand on.

  His heels hanging off the edge and his chin inches from the wall, Cruz searched for a route up so he could climb if he had to. And pretty soon he had to.

  Cruz found a couple of toeholds but had a tougher time spotting grips for his hands. It was impossible to lean back and remain on the little ledge. Cruz reached over his head as water sloshed into his shoes. Blindly, he slapped at the stone. He was running out of time. Cruz went up on his toes, his hands pawing for a bump or notch or cranny or something to grab on to. He found nothing. The water was rising quickly…to his ankles…his calves…

  Cruz kept slapping at the cave wall, the coarse rock shredding the skin on his fingers.

  There! A knot! Not a big one, but big enough. With the water level at his knees, Cruz curled both hands around the bulge. He lifted his right foot, wedged it into the toehold, and pulled himself up. Raising his left foot, he placed it where he thought the crevice should be but hit only flat rock. Cruz moved his foot up, searching. He tried making small circles but couldn’t find the gap. His fingers were cramping. Ugh! Where was it? His knuckles were slipping. If he didn’t find a space soon, he was going to lose his…

  “Arrggh!”

  Cruz toppled backward, sending up a giant splash. He was back where he’d started. Cruz slapped the water in frustration. Five seconds later, he was on his feet again. Fortunately, Orion’s science tech lab chief, Fanchon Quills, had designed their uniforms to be waterproof, but Cruz had a feeling Fanchon hadn’t expected he would have to swim in the thing. In another few minutes, however, that’s exactly what he was going to have to do. He zipped his upper-left pocket, where he kept his mother’s holo-journal, then made sure the lower-right pocket was tightly closed, too. It contained his octopod. Both pockets were watertight, thank goodness.

  Closing the collar of his uniform, Cruz felt something scrape the back of his neck. He reached behind him, his fingers closing around a metal tab. That’s right! Every explorer’s jacket was equipped with two critical survival items: a parachute, which wouldn’t help him here, and a flotation device, which most definitely would! Except Cruz wasn’t sure how to inflate the thing. He could almost hear his adviser, Taryn Secliff, say, You’d know what to do if you hadn’t glossed over the uniform instruction manual.

  “I know, Taryn, I know…” Cruz yanked open his belt and unzipped his jacket. Wrestling free of the sleeves, he whipped the coat inside out. He found a small tab near the collar. It was engraved with a P—for “parachute,” no doubt. Okay, so where was the one for the float? Frantically, he went down the lining, searching for an F tab. He didn’t find one. Cruz moaned. “How in the world am I supposed to activate this dumb flotation device?”

  “Personal flotation device deployment confirmed.” The calm female voice startled him. It was Fanchon!

  “Cruz Coronado, please prepare for PFD deployment,” said Fanchon. Her instructions were coming from his OS band! Smart. Connecting his uniform to his personal computer gave him, and only him, access to and control of his gear. He should have known when all else failed, he could count on his OS band for help.

  What did Fanchon mean by “prepare”? He was about to ask, when the computerized Fanchon instructed, “Please fully secure jacket, pockets, and cuffs. Beginning ten-second countdown sequence now. Ten…nine…eight…”

  “Hold on!” Cruz threw his jacket over his shoulders and shoved his arms into his sleeves. The water was edging up past his knees. A current was beginning to form. He had to take a wider stance to remain upright in the swirling water.

  “Six…five…”

  Cruz yanked the buckles tight on the bottom of each sleeve, then jerked the zipper on the front of his jacket up so hard he was sure he’d broken it.

  “Two…one,” said Fanchon. “PFD activation commencing.”

  The hem of Cruz’s jacket tightened against his hips. His cuffs and collar were sealing, too. A sudden rush of air down his back sent a chill through him. Cruz watched his sleeves slowly swell. As they did, his arms rose from his sides. His chest was puffing up, too. His jacket took less than 15 seconds to fully inflate. He felt like a giant marshmallow.