Mark started running. Courtney and Dodger took off after him.
“Slow them down,” Courtney ordered the Dimonds.
Mark disappeared inside the ship’s structure, followed right behind by Courtney and Dodger. Andy led the officers down the outside stairs in pursuit, only to run into the Dimonds, who blocked his way at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hi, Andy,” Mr. Dimond said jovially.
“Get out of the way!” Andy ordered.
The Dimonds held their ground. “I think you’ve got some explaining to do,” Mrs. Dimond scolded.
Andy gave her a cold look that nearly knocked her off her feet. For a brief moment his eyes flashed blue with anger.
Mrs. Dimond gasped. Andy reared back as if to hit someone, but the ship’s officer arrived behind him.
“Here now,” the officer commanded. “No need for that. They’re on a ship. They can’t hide for long.”
Andy spun to the officer, ready to lash at him. He saw Nevva standing on top of the stairs behind the officers and motioned for her to go back the other way. Andy pushed past the officer, headed back up the stairs.
Mrs. Dimond looked to her husband and said, “Can life get any stranger?”
Mark sprinted down the passageway of the Main Deck. He didn’t double back or take a route that was hard to follow. It was all about speed. Courtney and Dodger were right behind him. They no longer cared about being seen. Spending the rest of the voyage locked up no longer mattered. It had come down to this. A race. They had to get back to Mark’s suite before anyone else. Before Andy or Nevva. It was the final leg of their mission.
They had to destroy Forge.
Up ahead of them, a group of elegantly dressed passengers strolled out of the dining room, laughing and singing.
“Get out of the way!” Mark screamed.
He didn’t wait for them to obey. He ran straight at them. Men dove away, women scattered. Courtney would have laughed if she weren’t about to hit them herself. Just as the passengers gathered their wits, Courtney arrived at full speed.
“Get out of the way!” she yelled as the surprised passengers flung themselves to the walls. Courtney and Dodger flew past with no apologies.
Mark sprinted down a long passageway that was lined with elegant, white doors. He slowed down enough to focus on the door numbers, which allowed Courtney and Dodger to catch up.
“Is this it?” Courtney yelled. “Is this where your suite is?”
“Yeah,” Mark answered, gulping air while digging in his pocket for keys.
“Fast is our friend,” Courtney cautioned. “Going as fast as I can,” Mark snapped back. He stopped at a door and worked to get the key in the lock. “Mark, stop!” came a screaming voice from behind them. Andy Mitchell appeared at the far end of the passageway. “Gotta hurry, chum,” Dodger implored. Mark fumbled with the key.
“I’m too f-freaking nervous!” Mark shouted. “There!”
He twisted the key and threw the door open. All three jumped inside. Dodger closed the door behind them and locked it. Mark dove for the small wooden dresser and yanked the top drawer open, digging through socks.
Dodger turned around and whistled. “Wow, nice digs.” He plopped himself down on a couch and put his arms behind his head. “Might as well enjoy it, seeing as we’ll be spending the rest of the trip in irons.”
Courtney stood behind Mark, watching nervously. “Tell me it’s still there,” she begged.
“Got it!” Mark announced.
He held up the innocuous little device that was about to change history. Courtney remembered it all too well. To her it looked like a small ball of Silly Putty. Inside was a complex skeleton that was controlled by an advanced computer of Mark’s design that changed shape in response to voice commands. The plastic skin Saint Dane had stolen from Third Earth. The computer technology was all Mark’s. He called it “Forge.” It was the brainchild of the Dimond Alpha Digital Organization. It was a little ball of clay. It was the grandfather of the dados.
“Kill it,” Courtney commanded.
Mark held his invention up and stared at it like a loving parent.
Dodger jumped up and put his ear to the door.
“They’re coming,” he said calmly. “Now would be good.”
“I’m sorry, Courtney,” Mark said softly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“We’ll have all the time in Halla to talk about it later. Do it!”
The anguish on Mark’s face was obvious. He dropped the high-tech ball onto the deck, closed his eyes, and stamped his foot down. Courtney heard the satisfying crack and crumble, as Forge was crushed into history. At the exact instant Mark’s foot destroyed Forge…
Courtney’s ring came to life. She held it up for the others to see.
“Does this mean things have changed back?” Mark asked.
“I think we’re about to find out,” Courtney answered.
She took the ring off and placed it on the deck.
Dodger kept his ear to the door. “I don’t hear them coming anymore. Do you think they know?”
“I guarantee they know,” Courtney replied.
Mark twisted his foot into the carpet, making sure every last bit was pulverized. He scooped up the remains and tossed them out the porthole. Forge was no more.
The ring grew as light flashed through the room. Dodger joined the other two and watched the show. Moments later the ring returned to normal. Next to it was a rolled parchment.
“That didn’t take long,” Courtney said nervously.
“Time flies when you’re flying through time,” Dodger said.
Courtney picked up the pages and clutched them to her chest. “I guess we’ll read this in the brig. I’m proud of you, Mark.”
She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Mark stared at the floor.
“You did the right thing, chum,” Dodger said. “Sorry for, you know, nearly shooting you before. I didn’t want to.”
D. J. MacHale
The Pilgrims of Rayne
Mark didn’t react. He kept staring at the floor. “Are you okay?” Courtney asked.
“I don’t know,” Mark answered. “I won’t know until I find out if my parents are still alive.”
IBARA
This is my last journal.
I know I’ve written words like that before, but it was always out of fear that something might prevent me from writing. That’s not the case here. Nothing is going to happen to me. Not anymore. I made sure of that. As I write this journal, I feel safe for the first time since I left home to become a Traveler. It wasn’t easy getting to this place. In fact, it was a nightmare. But it’s over now. Sort of. I’m going to have to relive it in these pages. Part of me wants to skip writing it all down, because it’s too painful. That wouldn’t be fair. Not to you, Courtney. Not to the other Travelers. Not to Uncle Press. I have to finish what I started, just as I did here on Ibara. After looking back on all that’s happened since I wrote my last journal, there is one thing I can say with absolute certainty. The battle for Halla is over. How that happened will be related to you here, in my final journal. I hope I can find the right words to paint the picture as it happened. As I saw it. As it was meant to be.
When we returned to the island of Ibara with the tak, we dressed Alder in local clothes and hurried out of the newly dug tunnel, headed for Tribunal Mountain. Not a single quig-bee bothered us. The poison must have killed them all. When we reached the village, the people were milling around nervously. Many cried. Others consoled them. There was an air of foreboding.
“It’s like we never left,” Siry said to me in wonder.
“I told you. The flume puts us where we need to be, when we need to be there. It looks like the Flighters attacked the pilgrims only a few hours ago.”
