Gyre (Atlas Link Series Book 1)

by Gunn, Jessica

  Another beep signaled the “progress complete” window on my screen. I scrolled through the data without finding anything indicating if either hypothesis was truer than the other. Yes, Humming Bird still functioned as the shield system always had. No, the readings didn’t discern Chelsea’s vibration frequency.

  My eyes slid shut, and I slammed down the escape key with my thumb. Screw this stupid shield. “It’s done,” I called to the Commander and took off my headset.

  The problem was, if I was wrong, SeaSat5—one of the few vessels able to travel the seas unnoticed at this speed—was a massive target. One that could not be taken. Any of those supposed time travel tools the Atlanteans once had—the Link Pieces—laid somewhere on the ocean floor, below a depth at which most vessels could travel. The Lemurians needed this ship. And it’s not like exposing a time travel war to the government so they could take military action to protect it would help. They’d want to study the Link Pieces, or weaponize them. And I’d been trying to prevent the latter all along.

  No. This was my secret to keep for as long as I could. My duty was to keep this station safe and out of the hands of anyone wanting to use it, or the time traveling capabilities of Link Pieces, for war.

  I left the Bridge for the Dining Decks. Lunch could last long enough to grab food and set Chelsea up with a computer. Right now, she was with Helen, but not for much longer. I pushed open the Dining Hall’s doors too roughly. Curious glances vaulted my way. I ignored them and poured coffee into the largest cup I could find and then looked for a place to sit.

  Michael, an engineering intern under my watch, sat by himself against a wall midway down the deck. He’d finished graduate school last year and had worked on the station since SeaSatellite5 first launched. His father came from a long line of Naval officers, so in combination with his 4.0 GPA and three co-ops, Michael had a free ticket to SeaSat5.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He nodded his greeting and moved paperwork to make space. His eyebrows rose at the size of my coffee. “Rough day?”

  “Six hours on the Bridge. Maybe more later.”

  He cringed. “For fun?”

  “The Commander needed me to update the Bird.” Half-truths were, evidently, how I got by.

  “As if the system wasn’t already beyond most of us.”

  I shrugged off the compliment. SeaSat5 itself was such an advancement for science and technology, my little system barely compared.

  “Hey, you finish Mega Rush 2, yet?” Michael asked.

  I thought everyone knew I’d finished making the game weeks ago. Mega Rush 2, a game I’d been working on since holiday leave in December, was a beat-the-world-clock type of game. You grabbed a 3D work headset (courtesy of Engineering) and logged into the game. The players raced against the world clock to complete their objectives and achieve the “winning goal” before I, the overlord, ended their runs. The game utilized an open-world set up, with free range for roaming and a virtually endless “map,” and I controlled a lot of things from the outside. With rules of course.

  “Yeah. Want to grab who’s free and try it out?” I glanced down at my watch. I had an hour of break time to kill. I could set them up with the game and still have time to find a computer for Chelsea while they waded through the first half.

  “Do I?” Michael’s eyes brightened as he stood and began packing up his paperwork. “About damn time. I’ll meet you in the Lounge in ten.” He practically ran out the door.

  I shoveled my lunch into my mouth and followed him.

  We gathered inside the Civilian Lounge, in front of the biggest recreational TV SeaSat5 had to offer. Those in attendance for Mega Rush 2’s unveiling consisted of Michael, some Bridge staff, a handful of other engineering interns, and myself. I hooked up my computer, and all the 3D headsets we could round up on short notice, and booted up the game on my screen. From here, I would monitor the progress of each player from a screen they couldn’t see, and wreak havoc on everyone. I smirked a little, imagining the shouts and curses that’d be flying in a few minutes.

  I called up the game’s main title sequence onto the TV, some borrowed 8-bit theme playing in the background. Maybe now, with Chelsea joining the crew, I could get some original music for the game.

  Anxiety crawled up my spine, sending chills shooting down the opposite way. Both the best and worst came out of Chelsea boarding SeaSatellite5 for good. I’d get to know her, get to (maybe) be more with her, but dammit if having an Atlantean onboard didn’t complicate everything. Valerie still wanted to turn her in, and it’d taken some serious convincing to persuade her to hold off for now. Chelsea simply wasn’t a threat—except to me.

  I’d be lying if I said the thought of her being so close for so long didn’t screw with my head. I wanted her. I craved the way she kept me on my toes, foot in mouth. But she was Atlantean. My enemy. And if it came down to it, the war—my family—wouldn’t care how I felt. They’d simply destroy her—and me, in the process.

  Clearing my throat—and my mind—I sat up straight to get everyone’s attention. “I finally present to you Mega Rush 2: The Race.”

  They all looked at me like I picked the corniest name possible, and maybe I had, but “The Race” fit too well.

  “Each player will start in a different corner of the modern-day world,” I instructed. “You’ll each have an object. Together, those pieces fit together to make a device—the only device—which can deactivate an unknown weapon of mass destruction. Where said device is, and how you’ll get there to disarm the weapon, is part of the mystery—a puzzle which can be solved from clues given to you upon completing quests. You’ll each have a restriction on travel, so creativity is the name of the game.”

  The look of sheer terror on their faces said I’d finally hit the mark on a good game. They’d be addicted immediately, and I might finally win.

  “There’s a max of seven players on this one. Sorry guys. One for each continent.” Meaning one unlucky fool would start on Antarctica. “But you’ll have a collective in-game time of about four months.”

  “Which means what? One month outside the game?” Lieutenant Commander Christa Jackson, SeaSat5’s Communications Officer, asked.

  I nodded. “Thereabouts.”

  Freddy Olivarez, the Ensign heading up Navigations and Analytics, scoffed. “Why don’t you make the game a bit more impossible?”

  I grinned. “I wasn’t done. I still control the game from the outside, but with rules. Mostly weather in this case. A plane can’t take off in a snow storm.”

  Michael and Freddy threw up their hands in disgust, waving Engineering’s 3D headsets precariously in the air. My heart leapt over itself. That’s one-thousand-dollar equipment!

  “I did throw in one handicap,” I said, trying to placate them.

  “Yeah?” Michael asked.

  “You respawn if you die.” The statement drew a few sighs of relief, even from the interns who wouldn’t be playing. But I wasn’t finished yet. “At your point of origin.”

  Exasperated, Michael leaned back in his seat. “This’ll be fun,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

  I shrugged. “Well, you did ask me to make the game harder. Who’s ready to start?”

  “You mean who’s ready to kick some ass,” Freddy said. “‘Cause bring it the hell on, Boncore.”

  “You sure you’re going to win?” I asked him.

  “We beat the crap out of you last time,” Christa said. “Anything’s possible.”

  “If you’re so sure…” I said and started up the game. The players locked into their starting locations, and the world clock began its countdown.

  Michael got out of his spawn area before the thirty-minute mark. I sat poised to send a small tornado his way, waiting for thunderstorms to brew, when something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Someone who wasn’t there before.

  Chelsea stood in the opposite corner of the room, a bright blush creeping up her cheeks to wide, terrified, watery eyes.
r />   I jumped up and threw my computer onto the couch cushion beside me. I dashed across the room and checked her over, eyes darting from her head to the rest of her body. “Chelsea, what’s wrong?”

  She shook all over, and her eyes darted around the room. Her expression slipped from terror to humiliation in an instant, a brilliant red blooming across her cheeks.

  “What happened?” I asked again, my hands on her shoulders, trying to ground her as much as myself. The terror on her face took me straight back to the alleyway in Boston. To wanting to pummel whoever did this to her, my own well-being be damned.

  She brushed me off. “I—I need to go.”

  I grabbed her arm before she could leave. The wildness in her eyes froze me in place like a challenge. I forced words out to meet it. “Hey, it’s me. What’s going on?”

  She nodded quickly, an irritated expression twisting her face. “I know. You’re the problem.”

  I dropped my hand, letting her go. “What?” What the hell did I do? “I was going to get you your computer in an hour when you finished with Dr. Gordon.”

  She was shaking her head again. “That’s not it. I just need to go.”

  “When’d your girl get here?” Michael asked from the couch, insensitive as ever.

  Really man?

  Chelsea’s face flamed to fire-engine-red. I tapped her shoulder and pointed to the door. Chelsea wasn’t my girl—at least not yet. And maybe not ever after today.

  “I’ll be back, guys.” I reached for Chelsea’s hand. “Come on.” I led her into the hallway before letting go, afraid she’d run away rather than talk to me.

  She slid down the wall to the metal grating on the floor. Face in her knees, she said, “I am so sorry.”

  I took a seat next to her, grateful for every moment she let me in. “For what?”

  Her reply was muffled by clothing and tears. “I have no idea.”

  “Hey,” I said again, touching her back. What could I say to convince her I was worth talking to?

  She regarded me with sharp eyes. “I don’t know why this keeps happening, or why I always show up near you, or why—but you don’t need to babysit me now, I—”

  “Chelsea.”

  She slammed her mouth closed.

  I stared at her, my airways pinched off. What did I say? How could I help? I didn’t even know what was wrong.

  “What?” she asked.

  I inclined my head. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

  “No, everything’s not ‘okay.’ Helen had me do this stupid experiment, and it went wrong, and I panicked and freaking teleported to you again. I’m a freak.” She said it matter-of-factly, like nothing I said would change her mind.

  Unfortunately for her, I didn’t agree. “No, you’re not. What you can do is cool.” Teleportation definitely fell in the realm of useful, as far as powers went.

  She shot me an incredulous look. “You think me being a freak is cool?”

  How would I get her to understand? “Look, you appeared in a waterfall of navy blue lights in the Lounge. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” After seeing her onstage at the Franklin three months ago, anyway.

  Her face scrunched up, still not believing me. “Beautiful?”

  I grinned. How could she not see it? “Is that so hard to believe?”

  Chelsea opened her mouth to speak, but then she sighed, her shoulders relaxing. “Yes.”

  I sucked in a breath of relief. I couldn’t begin to understand what discovering something so incredible and scary about yourself was like. But Chelsea had to see she’s nothing short of amazing.

  “Thank you,” she said after a beat of silence.

  “You’re welcome. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “It’s fine. I have to get back upstairs. Dave and I were arm wrestling, then I… got freaked out.”

  “Freaked out?” And—that was Helen’s experiment?

  She banged her head against the wall. “I took out a middle-aged military guy at arm wrestling like his arm was made of Jell-O. Don’t you see what’s wrong with me?”

  Couldn’t she see I had the same issues? No. I didn’t tell her, and no one except Valerie knew how much I wanted a normal life. No war, no protecting the military from becoming an unknowing pawn.

  “I’m sure Dave’s going to be okay,” I said.

  “Well, yeah. Still.” Chelsea stood up. “I’m pretty sure he’s terrified of me now. I should go apologize. Helen’s going to wonder where I got to, anyway.” She brushed some invisible dust off her uniform bottoms and then placed her hands on her hips.

  I rose to my feet. “I’m sure she knows you’re around the station somewhere. She’s probably not worried.”

  Half the reason he’s hurt is because he probably underestimated Chelsea. He wouldn’t blame it on her, and neither would Helen.

  Chelsea exhaled and rubbed her neck. “I did this after locking myself in a bathroom stall.” She glanced away, a frown threatening to manifest on her lips.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my radio. “I’ll call Helen, don’t worry.”

  Her hand shot to mine. “No, please don’t. She’ll analyze the whole thing, and I so don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Analyze?”

  She hesitated, covering up the pause by letting go of my hand and making a show out of putting hers into her pocket. She bit her lip.

  “Chelsea?”

  She stayed silent for so long, I thought she wasn’t going to tell me. An ache burrowed in my chest. Couldn’t she see I just wanted to help her? To be there for her?

  She finally answered, “Helen thinks you and I are connected, or, in the very least, I feel connected enough to you—because of what happened in Boston—that my abilities draw me to you. Because of… things.”

  Chelsea’s words had spilled out so fast, I struggled to take them in. Connected? Boston? What was I supposed to think, other than Helen’s definitely crazy?

  But Helen wasn’t. I cared for Chelsea in a way I hadn’t cared for anyone else before, so it wasn’t Helen’s hypothesis that scared me. It was that Helen might be right. That we were connected, despite me being Lemurian and her this powerful Atlantean. And if that were true, if all this took place on SeaSatellite5, the vessel with every potential to become a pawn if we found Link Pieces, what did that mean for the war? What would my parents do when they found out I’d fallen completely for an Atlantean? Kill her?

  My jaw clenched. I’d sooner die than let that happen. Chelsea had become everything to me in a matter of weeks, a connection that ran deeper than either of us wanted to admit. When I looked at her, I saw life and freedom and hope. A promise that maybe, one day, normalcy was something we could both achieve. And that was that.

  But she also deserved the truth, no matter what might become of it.

  “Trevor?” she prodded.

  I raised my hands. “Hey, I like you and all, but we don’t know each other that well. ‘Connected’ is a bit too strong of a word… no offense or anything.”

  Coward.

  She threw her hands up, exasperated. “That’s exactly what I told her. We met, we have fun together, you’re great, but—hello—it’s essentially been two days. Her hypothesis is a load of bull.”

  I agreed despite a nagging in my gut. It grew into more of an ache, a yearning, the longer I considered it. “Let me call Helen for you.”

  “I got it,” she said, grabbing the radio from me. “Dinner tonight? We can talk more then.”

  “Yeah.” Well, at least she still wanted to see me despite all that.

  She turned and paced a few feet down the hall. Watching her walk away from me suddenly felt like a bad idea. Like something I should stop at all costs. What if she walked away forever?

  Chelsea

  ’m fine, Helen,” I told her. Chill out already.

  “Okay,” Helen said, but her voice was tight. She must still be worried. “Where are you? I can get you or hav
e Valerie come by.”

  “I’m outside the Lounge, but I think I can make it back.” Obviously a total lie, but the last thing I wanted right now was to be babysat by anybody. While Trevor was right, maybe I wasn’t this super weirdo with powers, I needed time to process this on my own.

  “Are you sure?” Helen asked.

  I nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “Yes. Just give me a few minutes.”

  “I can do that,” Helen said. “But you should know, Dave won’t be here when you get back.”

  My heart sunk into my stomach. “Why not?” I’d hurt him. That was the only explanation. But I knew I’d hurt him because as soon as I slammed his arm down, something cracked. So I’d run and didn’t stop until I hit the bathroom.

  “He’s got a very badly sprained wrist,” Helen said. “I’ve sent him to get it looked at.”

  “Shit.” Guilt formed a rotting pit in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. I hadn’t wanted to arm wrestle him period. But Helen had pushed us and now… now Dave was hurt, and that had been my fault.

  “Chelsea?” Helen asked after I’d been silent for too long.

  “I’ll meet you in your office,” I said and hung up.

  I walked. And kept walking. Up some stairs, down the Lift. Lost. I didn’t stop moving until my calves hurt, which took a while. I bounced and jumped on stage all the freaking time. So, it turns out, I could handle stairs pretty well. Who knew? Maybe that’s another super power of mine. Chelsea, Climber of the Stairs.

  Screw this. Screw all of this. I stopped and slapped a pipe-laden wall, forcing all my anger into a single blow. I froze as pain and stinging bloomed across my palm, but nothing happened. Stupid, Chelsea. Fucking stupid. If the arm wrestling mishap was any indication, I could of put my hand right through the metal. Could have put a hole straight into the freaking ship for all I knew.