Gyre (Atlas Link Series Book 1)

by Gunn, Jessica

  “What will you do with us then?” I asked.

  Thompson holstered his weapon and scratched his ratty beard. “Not sure yet. Right now I want to dispose of you all, but let’s see what changes, eh?”

  Let’s see how long it takes the crew to kill you, eh?

  “But don’t worry,” he said, leaning in. “Your girlfriend will live, regardless of what happens to you. She’s actually valuable.”

  “Screw you.”

  “You know, JoAnne was ready to take you back, even after you ran.”

  “I don’t care what my mother wants.” I returned to SeaSat5 out of a naïve obligation to protect the crew from these crazies, an obligation that had been cemented only when Chelsea showed up. I’d hoped my presence alone would deter Thompson from coming here, even if we’d found something. But my plan had failed, I hadn’t been able to protect them, and everything had gone horrifically wrong. Everything. Chelsea had even looked at me like I was one of them, and, from her viewpoint, I couldn’t blame her.

  What the hell had Valerie said to her? More importantly, would Chelsea give me the chance to explain if we got out of this alive?

  Gunshots reverberated in the corridor outside the open blast doors. Caught between wanting to duck and make a run for it, I stood, scared shit straight out of my mind. Every one of Thompson’s guys drew their guns, but he held his hand up, a fireball growing. The second a small group of soldiers with guns, led by Lieutenant Weyland, appeared in the doorway, Thompson launched his fireball. They ducked but didn’t rise again. Thompson’s guys teleported behind them and tackled Weyland and his MPs to the ground.

  “Ah, yes. Chief Security Officer. The last of the crew I had to find.” He chuckled, deep and dark. “Thanks for making it so easy.”

  My stomach churned, and I vomited on the floor.

  Chelsea

  ucking bitch had a mean right hook. And, unlike me, she clearly hadn’t cared about hurting people.

  I couldn’t think straight. I was Atlantean. They weren’t. But I couldn’t figure out what they were, and I refused to look at Valerie. No matter how I examined it, terrorists taking a high tech station made sense. Terrorist taking a high tech research station for ancient artifacts did not. Besides, these guys had organized themselves too well to be treasure hunters, not to mention their powers.

  I wracked my brain for ideas on who these people could belong to, given me being Atlantean, but stopped when my imagination soared to thoughts of the Minoans and El Dorado. Their powers were different, but that’s all I’d figured out.

  Then there was Dr. Hill, someone these guys were… not afraid of, but not a fan of, either. Which had me rethinking his job offer, stupid as the thought might be. At this point, I had no idea what I’d be joining, only that “Tao” was a shitty name for an organization. I mean, really. Tao? Tao Te Ching or something? But you know what they say about the enemy of your enemy. Maybe Dr. Hill wasn’t so bad after all.

  Too early to tell.

  These guys knew Trevor. They knew Valerie. Which meant Trevor and Valerie’s lives somehow intertwined with each other and all of this beyond what I knew, and that betrayal cut deeper than everything else. I frowned and rubbed my eyes to hide thoughts of them together, super spies for organizations filled with crazy, pyrokinetic people.

  Valerie sighed loudly, breaking the silence that surrounded us. “Breakups suck. I know.”

  “Oh, fuck off,” I said through my palms.

  “I’d love to, but I’m kinda stuck with you for now. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about it, either.”

  Yeah, whatever.

  I raised my palm above the cup of water on my nightstand and reached for my power. For that connection to water I’d thought was engrained in my spirit. But none came. Nothing happened aside from Valerie laughing.

  “I told you they adjusted Humming Bird so your powers won’t work,” she said.

  “You told me a lot of things.” So had Trevor. He also apparently hadn’t told me nearly as much as he knew, at the times I’d needed to hear it all most.

  “Which one are you wondering about now?” She moved to the edge of her bed, looking honest-to-god ready to answer anything I threw her way. I wanted to ask her everything, but would she tell me the truth?

  “Who are you and Trevor, really?” I asked.

  “People,” she said with a small shrug. “Same as you. Except, he doesn’t have powers. He’s the odd one out, not you.” Her words didn’t ease the pain, nor did her explanation.

  “Then why?”

  “Why what in particular?”

  I wrung my hands rather than flip her off. “All of it.”

  She smiled, digging the knife in deeper. “I can’t give you that. You’re not ready. But I will tell you this: you and Trevor meeting that night was some damn act of fate.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” How’d she even know what happened that night? I’d never told her, and she wasn’t there. Was she?

  “Trevor was in Boston because he ran from the military,” Valerie said.

  I shook my head. “Because his family pressured him…”

  Dots exploded across my mindscape, connecting themselves only long enough to fly off again. He and Valerie were long-time friends, family friends, and he’d been running from the military. From this, whatever this was. Had he known all along that people wanted to take SeaSatellite5, wanted to take the artifacts?

  “Mhm,” Valerie said. “They wanted him here, with me, like we were supposed to be. To keep the station in line. And safe.”

  I chortled. None of this made sense. “‘Cause it’s the picture of safe right now.”

  “With you on it, absolutely not.”

  My eyes snapped to hers. “What do I have to do with it?” I wasn’t the one helping hijackers capture crewmembers and steal artifacts.

  “You’re Atlantean, Chelsea. Our enemy.” Her eyes flashed red-hot anger. “Trevor shouldn’t have talked to you that night. He should have let you get mugged.”

  If Valerie knew what had happened that night, did that mean Trevor knew my attacker?

  That’s why he’d jumped into the fray in the first place.

  Oh, my god. That’s why my attacker ran rather than turn on Trevor.

  God, Helen must be in bed with them, too. She and Trevor had known what I was, and they’d used her whole Atlantean hypothesis to keep me out of the Brig when Lieutenant Weyland had every right to put me there. They’d wanted to keep me onboard, a research pet, when I should have ended up in jail or back on campus. To lure me in, keep an eye on me so I’d come to feel safe aboard this damn prison. I’d fallen so hard for their stupid games. So freaking hard.

  I laughed. Trust the archaeologist dreamer to be swayed by Atlantean dreams.

  I threw my head against the wall, still laughing at my stupidity. Believing the scientist who wanted to “help” me. Falling in love with the boy who only saw me as a target to be acquired. As long as I kept banging my head, or as long as Valerie pushed me to the edge of rage-filled insanity, I could keep from getting scared about it all. I could stay angry. Anger was sustainable.

  My shaking hands fooled no one. I was already scared.

  “Don’t hit your head too hard,” Valerie said. “We need your pretty little brain intact.”

  “Please go away,” I whined, not quite begging, but close. I just wanted to be alone.

  “No can do.”

  Rather than throw anything at her, I lay down, stewing quietly in my anger. I had to escape. It’d take me maybe five seconds to grab my guitar and hit her with it. Could I take her down long enough to get through the door? She wasn’t bigger than me, but she was stronger. Stronger than normal humans. I hadn’t been ready for her earlier, which was the only reason she’d won then. Now, though, the fight might be even.

  “I’m wondering what even possessed you to go outside that bar alone,” Valerie said after long, drawn out moments of silence.

  I ignored her, still planning
.

  “I mean, I get it,” she continued. “The Franklin is your band’s main venue, so you thought it was safe. But it’s still downtown Boston. It’s seedy. Young girls like us shouldn’t be out there alone.”

  Young girls like us shouldn’t be walking freak shows either, but here we were.

  “Long story,” I mumbled.

  “I don’t think so,” Valerie said. “Girl comes along, sweeps your boyfriend off his feet. I get it. I’d be ready to run, too, if I caught them.” She paused and pressed a finger to her lips. “She must have been some brave bitch, that’s all I’ll say. Stealing from someone like you.”

  Valerie gave me too much credit. My arms and legs ached for movement, for a fight or flight that wouldn’t happen. I couldn’t run and hide or face this head on. It was too big, the threats too real. All I could do was buy time. Without powers, I was nothing, just a girl. Even my strength didn’t match theirs.

  “Can I ask you one thing, Chelsea?” Valerie asked.

  My eyes wandered to her form, lithe and confident. “What?”

  Valerie regarded me for long moments, peering deep into my eyes, her head tilted, searching for something she couldn’t find. Her eyes narrowed, confused. “Do you honestly know nothing?”

  I raised my hands in front of me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She pointed in the vague direction of the outpost. “About any of it. The source of your abilities. Your heritage. What’s resting a quarter mile away. You don’t know?”

  I didn’t know what I knew anymore. “I didn’t have powers until recently. Helen thinks they’re Atlantean. Helen thinks me having three is weird. And while we think we’ve found an Atlantean outpost, we don’t know for sure. That’s all I know, Valerie. I swear.”

  “Well then,” Valerie said, disbelief masking her eyes. She slapped her thighs and stood up. “You’re officially the most ignorant, yet dangerous, person on this station.” She strode to the door, hands glowing red and orange.

  What the hell?

  Valerie pressed her palms against the hinges and the center turnstile of the door, melting the steel into something unmovable.

  “You can try getting out, but I doubt it’ll open. They need me upstairs to sidestep whatever your lover-boy is doing.” She pinned me with a glare. “Stay put, girlie. Don’t make me hit you again. You have a pretty face. Oh, and”—she thrust her finger in my direction—“you better hope I never find proof of what your kind did to Abby. Because if I turn out to be right about that, I’m taking it out on you.”

  With a flash of fire, she was gone.

  Abby? Trevor’s cousin? What did her situation have to do with Atlantis?

  Trevor

  ix hours. Somehow, they’d managed to hold the station for six anxiety-ridden hours. At least another sixteen remained until we hit port.

  Freddy was the only Bridge staff they’d brought up to help me, but everything—patience, hope—wore thin. There hadn’t been any more casualties so far. Didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any. The crew also hadn’t made a move to retake the station yet, which played a part in that statistic. But what if they did make a takeover attempt? Why hadn’t they? I could understand civilians not wanting to risk it, especially if the military staff told them not to. There had to be protocols somewhere, although Thompson’s crew and their abilities cancelled out any planning. But still. Someone had to do something, and I was out of ideas.

  Pain stung my chest. Valerie had Chelsea, and now that the pretense of friendship had been shattered, what would keep Valerie from hurting her? Chelsea couldn’t defend against an angry Valerie. Not before, with powers, and definitely not now that hers were gone and Valerie’s were revealed.

  I ran my hands through my hair. Think, Boncore. Think.

  Dr. Hill. He was the unknown factor. Whatever TAO meant and whatever they did, he’d known about the war and the Link Pieces. He’d known about Chelsea. Maybe he’d know what to do now.

  I looked up. Thompson stood over Freddy’s shoulder while he worked on his own to stabilize the destroyed systems. Georgie sulked a few feet away. If I could distract him for long enough, could I make it to Dr. Hill?

  My fingers slid over the keyboard in front of me, dancing six steps ahead of my mind. I closed the windows, plan in place, and glanced at Georgie. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Hold it,” he snarled.

  “You know that’s not healthy, right? It’s been over six hours.”

  He sneered my way, arms crossed above his beer-belly. “Tough shit. I ain’t stupid. I let you go, you run. Then I gotta chase you, and I don’t feel like running.”

  I shrugged. “So shoot me. I’m not stupid, either. I just gotta piss.”

  “Take him,” Thompson said over his shoulder. “His whining is as irritating now as it was when he was eight.”

  Georgie drew his gun and waved it my way. “All right. Let’s go.”

  He escorted me off the Bridge, his biker swagger and the gun in his hand the only thing keeping my senses on edge. Getting slugged by him and his tree-trunk arms would hurt. A lot. But he was stupid. He followed Thompson’s commands like a trusting, loyal dog. He didn’t even notice when the lights overhead dimmed to emergency floodlights. Just kept on walking. Not good. He was too focused on me and not on the distraction I’d planned.

  Halfway to the restrooms on this level, the lights shut off for a split second that seemed to last forever.

  Wait, I told myself. Not yet.

  Sparks burst out of every bulb and fixture like handfuls of sparklers on the Fourth of July.

  “What the hell!” Georgie shouted.

  I spun and shoved a shoulder into his chest, knocking him away. My eyes darted around, looking for a weapon, anything I could use to defend myself long enough to get Georgie out of the picture.

  The locker!

  I sprinted back the way we came, fumbling with my keycard. It slid out of my shaking fingers to the floor.

  “Shit,” I said, bending down. It took several tries to pry it from the floor, my fingers not cooperating. I rushed the reader at the weapons locker door and slid the card through. Nothing happened. I flipped the keycard over and over in my hands. No, no, no. I turned it upside down and slid it through the right way. Still nothing.

  “Screw this.”

  I tore off the shielding and entered my authorization code directly into the keypad beneath.

  Beep beep. Red light.

  I tried my code again.

  Beep beep. Red light.

  “What the hell!” I yelled, slamming my hand against the reader. They’d locked me out of everything. Valerie had locked me out.

  Georgie barreled down the hall, gun waving around in the air like a madman. “Stupid brat! Get back here!”

  I was done for. Dead.

  A bright red object hanging on the wall caught my attention. I flung myself away from Georgie and crashed into the fire extinguisher. I yanked the extinguisher off the wall, raised the canister above my head, and charged him.

  Georgie must not have expected a direct attack. His head clanged against the extinguisher, and he slid unconscious to the floor. I stood there, frozen despite the adrenaline, the sense of satisfaction coursing through me.

  Footsteps echoed down the hall from the Bridge. Keep moving, Boncore. The Brig sat one floor down. I had to get there—quick. But how?

  Thompson’s voice soared through the corridor. “What the hell’s going on out here?”

  I was running out of time.

  Left. Right. My eyes searched every inch of the corridor. No more weapons. Nothing an extinguisher could do against guns from far away. I had nothing.

  I backed up against the wall, heart threatening to jump right out of my chest, followed by my lungs. Think, think, think.

  My fingers brushed metal along the wall. Vent!

  I spun and tried prying the vent cover from the wall. It didn’t budge. I grabbed the canister and hammered it against the vent, denting the
frame and popping screws loose. The vent cover clattered to the ground, and I peered inside. It’d be a tight fit, but they wouldn’t be able to follow. For the first time, I was actually thankful I was no more than skin and bones.

  I dove into the vent head first and army-crawled my way through the first fifteen feet.

  “Trevor!” Thompson yelled through the hole. “Get the hell back here!”

  Keep going. Don’t respond.

  “I’ll vent out the oxygen!”

  No, he won’t. He won’t kill you.

  He absolutely would.

  I crawled faster.

  It got easier when the venting opened up at an intersection. The expanding metal walls gave me brain-space to think about the station’s blueprints. A nearby service staircase linked a small security office off the Bridge to the Brig.

  I charged onwards through the vent, kicking open the entrance to the service staircase with aching shoulders. No one was there. I slipped down the ten-foot drop, onto the staircase. At least they hadn’t guessed where I’d gone, yet.

  Down the stairs and around the corner I jogged. I went through the same motions with the Brig’s lock as I did the weapons locker. But instead of denying me entry, this door beeped once and glowed green. I pushed open the door. The sight inside shocked me frozen.

  Dr. Hill rested limp in a chair, his face battered and bloodied. His shirt had been torn. Nasty, angry red burns trailed down one arm and all along his chest. His matted hair shielded his eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was awake. Or alive. He’d been tortured pretty badly. By who? Thompson?

  My blood ran cold. Had Valerie done this?

  I shut the door behind me and rushed to his side. “Dr. Hill? Dr. Hill, are you with me?” I shook his leg, the only unmarred part of his body.

  He groaned and shifted in his chair.

  Relief lifted my lungs. Thank god. “It’s me, Trevor. I escaped to see you.”

  He gave me a look that said I’d have been smarter to get to Shuttle Dock and make a run for it.

  “Are your people coming?” I asked him. His archaeology team had been on their way. What would they do when they found the station had moved?