Chelsea moved for the door. Her arm brushed mine as she passed, leaving the hair on my arm standing on end where her warm skin touched mine. My chest tightened, the need to kiss her returning like we were magnets, opposite and gravitating toward each other.
“I’m starving. Let’s go get breakfast,” she said.
“Me too,” I resigned with drooping shoulders. Next time.
Chelsea’s gaze followed the numbers and colored lines on the walls. “I’m going to get lost each and every single day on this job.”
I chuckled and pointed to the markings. “Blue always denotes the way to the stairs. Yellow, the science areas. Red, command and security areas. And when you get your keycard, it’ll be loaded with electronic signatures. If it doesn’t open a door, you shouldn’t be in there. It’s easy, though. The station’s basically a square.”
“Yeah.” She waved a hand in front of her. “All I got out of that is: uniform colors equal accessible areas.”
I glanced around the halls and spotted one of the engineering team’s diagnostics stations. “Come see.” I signed on, calling up a schematic of the station. “See? A square.” SeaSatellite5 itself wasn’t a square, obviously, but its innards were. A box of decks inside levels, stairways connecting the decks, with the Lift running up the center.
“Okay,” she said. “Then what happens when the station flips or whatever?”
“Dave didn’t explain?”
Chelsea shook her head. “He said it ‘flips.’ When he first found me, he said something about being on a ‘sometimes sub, sometimes station.’” She laughed. “Poor guy was too flustered at finding a random girl in a storage room to speak properly.”
“Probably.” Sounds like Dave. I replaced my fingers on the keyboard and pulled up a schematic showing the whole station. “SeaSat5 is comprised of the shield, the outer hull, and the inner square with the actual body of the ship. Between the square body and the outer hull, there are ballasts and a layer of classified material that work together with my system, Humming Bird, to flip the station when we blow or fill them.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“It is.”
She paused, a finger pressed against her lips like I wanted my own lips to be. I watched her finger, unable to tear my eyes away.
“So, if this station is SeaSatellite5, are there four more of these research ships sailing around out there, cloaked and everything?” Chelsea asked.
Valerie even told her about the cloak? Dammit, Valerie.
“No,” I replied. “The others were failed attempts to build a certain class of mobile research vessels. SeaSat5 was the first to succeed, and, subsequently, the only one to be outfitted with Humming Bird.”
“Interesting.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I tell you all that, and ‘interesting’ is the best you can do?” Most people zoned out at this point, so I didn’t blame her. But I wanted more from her.
She pointed at me, her purple painted nail inches from my chest. “You just regurgitated years’ worth of engineering work to me, an archaeology student. So yeah, that’s the best I can do right now.”
I smirked. “Yeah, whatever. What do you do when you’re not mulling over bones and pottery?”
She scoffed, a hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “I have the band.” She said it like there was a whole list of things but then changed her mind. Cute. It showed her priorities, which made me question whether I really wanted to ask the next question on my mind. If Phoenix and Lobster was her only priority, did that mean there wasn’t room for more?
“No special guy to hang out with?” I asked.
She leveled her eyes with mine. “Seriously?”
Crap. I raised my hands in my defense—and stupidity. “Hey, had to try.” No, you didn’t. My face warmed, and my stomach sank to my feet. Any shot I had with her just left the station. Gone. Never to return. God, you’re such an idiot.
Chelsea’s face flushed, hot and unmistakable. The fire dispersed some of the darkness my stupidity left behind.
“Yeah, well, it was charming,” she said.
My eyes darted to hers. Did she just call me charming?
She continued before my mind leapt off, lost inside that thought. “And to answer your question, no, I don’t.”
Bullshit. “No way.” Chelsea was gorgeous and talented and absolutely brilliant.
Her cheeks grew brighter. I loved that blush, craved it as a kind of twisted reminder of the night we met. Her face, a lighthouse guiding me to sanity, flushed from cold and adrenaline. It was the night my life changed course. Without meeting her at the Franklin, we wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t be questioning everything I’d accepted all my life. I wouldn’t have this beautiful, amazing girl in front of me, who left me grasping to stay ahead of her—so I wouldn’t lose her again. I didn’t want to lose her again.
Chelsea shrugged. “The last guy wasn’t exactly impressive, so I’ve been laying off the scene ever since.”
Not exactly a rejection. I’d take it. “Shame.”
She rolled her eyes, but she smiled.
Nice save, Boncore.
“What do you do for fun when you’re not playing Tinker Toys with a military research station?” she teased.
Ouch. “If you’re unimpressed with the Tinker Toys, you’re going to laugh at my answer, so I’ll pass.”
“Oh, come on. The name of my band is Phoenix and Lobster. It can’t be more embarrassing than that.”
My hobby wasn’t embarrassing, just uncool. So when I did get the small chance to talk to girls, I usually left it out. But something about Chelsea had me wanting to spill everything about myself. My past, my hobbies, even my feelings. All of it. Except for the obvious.
“I make video games,” I started. “Not your flash animation stuff, but immersive games. Simulators. Hazard of engineering school with a computer science interest, I guess.”
She grinned, leaning in. She brushed hair behind her ear. “Not gonna lie, that’s pretty awesome.”
Doubt bloomed in my chest, a reminder this is where I lost most girls. “You don’t have to lie. I believe the term is ‘deal breaker.’” A geeky, loser one.
“Most guys are creeped out by the sometimes literal skeletons in my closet from bio-anthropology classes, but you found it cool.” She watched my face for a reaction.
I smiled. I hadn’t seen one of the said skeletons yet, but I’d probably find it cool, yeah. Creepy but cool. The exact opposite of Chelsea herself. She was beautiful, wild, interesting. So unlike the girls I’d met in college. I hadn’t noticed it in Boston because the rocker girl persona she put on overtook the rest. But here, on SeaSat5, the difference stood in spotlight. Chelsea carried herself with sarcasm and confidence, but an academic air laced it all and meshed with my own intellectual side. My desire to learn more, about everything.
“Touché,” I said.
I wanted to get to know her more. For the rest of her internship. For a good long while.
Chelsea
elen retrieved me from my guest room sometime after breakfast. We weaved through decks and stairs until we came to a stop outside a lab in the science area. Helen ran her keycard through the reader and pushed open the door.
“This is our office,” Helen said, flipping light switches. An empty desk sat opposite hers. My desk, I guess?
“The real treasure is behind door number two,” she continued, gliding across the room to a door on the far side. She punched in a code on yet another lock. “Only we, Commander Jackson—our Communications Officer—and the Captain have access to this room, to preserve artifacts when we have them.”
She pushed open the door to reveal a second twenty-by-ten-foot room, lined with shelves like the supply room I’d appeared in hours ago. Except these were empty.
“We dropped off everything we had before you arrived,” she said. “Hopefully we’ll find more for you soon.”
I sure hope so. My fingers itched for archaeology work again. Hopefull
y we’d find something. With any luck, it’d be more exciting than a Massachusetts dig site.
“What are we doing today?” I asked.
Helen sat at her desk and straightened out a notebook. “First, I’d like to get some more background on you, if that’s okay?”
I didn’t sit. “Background?” Didn’t she have enough already? No powers until the Franklin, minus things I didn’t tell her. Things I hadn’t told anyone and didn’t intend to. The mic stand incident wasn’t a fond memory. That thing had cost half my paycheck to replace.
“Well, you say you’ve only recently developed powers, yes?” She didn’t wait for me to respond. “And you didn’t know you might one day have them, which means, as we’ve established, abilities have skipped a generation or two in your bloodline.”
“I guess.” So what? Was it possible my parents had them and never told me? No. We had a good relationship. If they knew, if they had powers, too, Mom and Dad would have said something. They would have warned me about what might happen.
“What about your sister?” Helen asked.
My eyes narrowed, fists clenching of their own accord. Too many years of being an over-protective older sister, here we go. “How’d you know I have a sister?”
“We did a background check, remember?” Helen said, eyes flitting down to my hands.
I glanced at them, too. “Duh. Sorry. I…” Be honest with her. She’s trying to help you. “The thought of her getting caught up in all of this makes me want to punch something.” Just because my life got uprooted by powers and some supposed connection to Atlantis didn’t mean Sarah’s should, too. Even if she had powers. Which she doesn’t. “What do you want to know?”
“Has she exhibited abilities at all?” Helen asked, pen at the note-taking ready.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not once. You said I’m the youngest you’ve heard of, anyway. Sarah’s younger than me, so she probably wouldn’t yet.”
Except I’d shown signs of something that night at the Franklin with the mic stand three months ago, the one I’d bent in half. Solid steel had crumbled in my hands like putty. I’d been angry, so freaking angry that night. Logan had to come to calm me down after I’d read those nasty social media posts. Everyone had written shit about what had happened with Lexi, bringing my band into it. Bringing Sarah into it. I’d never been as mad as I had been that night, not before and never since. I’d also never been able to explain how that steel bent to my will. Ever. This had happened two days after I’d met Trevor and a week before my twenty-first birthday. If the freak of nature strength exhibited that night had been a power and not a fluke, that’d make me twenty-years-old with powers, almost twenty-one. Sarah wasn’t even twenty yet.
“No, I suppose not,” Helen said.
I wanted to tell her about the mic stand incident, but I didn’t think she’d even believe me. Who would? I was five-four with no real muscle to speak of, and that steel was at least three inches thick. An obese mic stand because we couldn’t afford a nice-looking one.
Then there was the whole alcohol thing…
“Howdy everyone.”
I glanced at the door. Dave stood half in the room.
“Hey,” I said.
“What can I help you with, Mr. James?” Helen asked.
He pointed at me. “Making sure Chelsea here got to your office okay.”
“She picked me up,” I said. “I doubt Mr. Trigger-Happy would be okay with me wandering on my own.”
“That’s Lieutenant Trigger-Happy to you,” Dave said with a smile and wag of his finger.
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Point is, I’m here.”
“Good.” Dave gave me a nod. “Mission complete. Back to Bridge Duty it is, then.”
“Didn’t know you’d been assigned as my designated babysitter.”
He shrugged. “Me either. Captain’s orders. Probably thought you’ve had enough of Trevor for one day.”
My face warmed, betraying any argument I could give. I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of Trevor. “Well—”
“Joking,” Dave said. He smacked his hand on the doorframe. “I’m off, then. Call me if you need anything, Chelsea. Dr. Gordon.”
“Actually”—Helen stood from her desk—“might I borrow you for a moment longer?”
Dave brushed up his sleeve and checked his watch. “I’ve got twenty minutes to make it upstairs. Why not?”
“Good.” Helen crossed her arms at her chest and regarded me with narrowed, thinking eyes, and a pensive furrow in her brow. “I have a hunch.”
“A hunch?” I echoed. How did our non-conversation about my sister’s non-existent powers spark a hunch? “Why do I not like the sound of that?”
“Before you, I worked with another young woman. We’ve since parted ways, but she had an interesting blend of abilities.”
Blend? God, could Helen read minds as well as see the future?
“Why’d she leave SeaSatellite5?” I asked.
“She’s never seen the station,” Helen said. “We worked together a few years ago. I was her mentor before SeaSatellite5 was built. She accepted a position in Ireland to be closer to her family. We keep in touch from time to time, but I haven’t talked to her since SeaSat5 launched.”
“And what was this blend of abilities she had?”
Helen shook her head. “It doesn’t matter right now, especially if my hunch is only a hunch.” She pointed over my shoulder to my desk. “Dave, will you please join us?”
Dave thrust his hands into his uniform pockets and swayed on his feet. “Not that I don’t trust you, Dr. Gordon, but why?”
Helen flashed him the sweetest doctor smile I’d ever seen. “I’m not much of a match for Chelsea when it comes to arm wrestling, which I would like you to do.”
“Wait a second,” I said, stepping toward her. “First off, I resent that you think I can’t take Dave because I’m a girl.” Dave’s face flushed. He clearly thought Helen was in the right. Pfft. “Second, what the hell is arm wrestling this guy going to prove?”
“Uh,” Dave said. “Don’t I have a say in this?”
I side-eyed him. “No.” I sized him up. Adult male. Built. Navy officer. He’d been the first friendly face on board, my only real friend besides Trevor and, possibly, Dr. Gordon. And no one in this room knew about the mic stand incident, the accident that might prove I could not only beat Dave, but that I might break his arm in doing so.
“You seem like the type of guy who’d let me win to not hurt my feelings, Dave,” I continued. “No offense.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Thank… you? I think?”
I placed my hands on my hips. “I just don’t see what it’s supposed to do.”
Helen inclined her head. “Humor me, Chelsea?” Her eyes pleaded with mine, and I found it hard to not want to humor such a good-natured person.
“Fine,” I said. “But I want it on record I think this is a stupid, probably embarrassing idea.”
“Hey,” Dave said, a scoff in his voice.
Oh, he could be offended all he wanted. “I meant for me,” I said for his benefit. After all, if what happened that night with three-inch steel wasn’t a fluke, he’d need the cushion for his ego.
Helen tapped the table. “Thank you. Now, ready-up, you two.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, choosing to purse my lips instead. Dave’s eyes met mine, and I shrugged. “Might as well get it over with, Dave. Go easy on me, will you? I need this hand to play guitar.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he said. And I believed him.
We placed our elbows on the table, and he refused to lock hands with me for too many moments. Finally, he gripped my hand like one might a guitar or a cello, loose but with purpose. He wouldn’t risk losing, despite the fact he’d obviously win, but he didn’t want to hurt me, either. In that case, I’d give him all I had. What did I have to lose?
I wiggled my hips and settled into an anchoring stance. Dave didn’t even bother.
He just stood there, everything about him loose as a goose. His hand was cold, clammy. I suppressed a laugh. What in the world did he have to be nervous about?
“Ready?” I asked him.
“Oh hell,” he said, finally falling into a solid stance. No turning back now. “Sure.”
“Three,” I said, initiating the countdown.
Our eyes locked, but I didn’t give away my plan.
“Two,” he replied.
On the, “One,” I abused his loose grip and really dug into his hand. I didn’t give him a single second of downtime, and threw everything I had into it.
Then his wrist snapped.
Trevor
sat at my station on the Bridge, face inches from the computer screen while I awaited the latest round of results. Humming Bird wasn’t broken, per say, but Chelsea shouldn’t have gotten through. Therefore, her arrival presented two possibilities: my system was never correctly calibrated to block teleportation abilities in the first place (plausible, though unlikely), or Chelsea’s Atlantean abilities vibrated at a different frequency than the Lemurians’. If they did, I’d have to find a common frequency to block incoming traffic.
My head fell between my hands, my forehead resting on the desk. I couldn’t test either of my hypotheses without Chelsea knowing how to use her powers and me getting one of my mother’s employees—someone with powers—on loan. In other words, it’d be impossible.
The system beeped, demanding the entering of a code to continue. I sighed and pecked the string of letters and numbers with a single finger.
Powers didn’t matter. My system was fallible, and that was not okay.
Someone paced beside my station and rested a hand on top of the monitor. Captain Marks’s Executive Officer.
“How are the ballast diagnostics going, Mr. Boncore?” he asked.
The Commander was a middle-aged sailor, still tanned from shore leave. The contrast between his bright blond hair and tanned skin startled me into sitting up straighter, like I wasn’t a civilian and actually had to pay attention.
“Almost done,” I said.
It’d take another five minutes for the ballast portion of Humming Bird’s diagnostics to finish, but I needed my time on the Bridge for the hidden shield side. I hated working in secret like this, betraying Captain Marks. He was a stand-up guy who didn’t need people like me on board, whose indecision made the military an unwilling bit of collateral damage. I could see that conversation—yes, Captain, there’s a shield to block my teleporting parents and their Lemurian friends from wrecking the station if we find artifacts—and wanted to save myself the embarrassment.
Gyre (Atlas Link Series Book 1) Page 8
