Gyre (Atlas Link Series Book 1)

by Gunn, Jessica

  “Then repair Humming Bird, and let Chelsea fix it.”

  “I said I wouldn’t help,” she insisted.

  My fingers wrung around each other, frustration rising above the anxiety inside me. “You don’t have a choice.”

  “The hell I don’t,” Chelsea said.

  Thompson’s eyes shut for a moment. Valerie appeared beside him in a fierce shower of burning flames. Were they telepathic?

  “Undo what you did,” he said to Valerie. “We need the soldier’s abilities to patch the hull.”

  “You’re nuts, right?” Valerie asked, stalking up to an Engineering station.

  “She’s not going to do anything,” I repeated.

  Chelsea huffed from her corner.

  For god’s sake, Chelsea. She could hate me all she wanted, but only after the station was safe.

  Valerie chuckled. “Like she could. She’d just teleport to you, and I don’t think she wants that right now.” She tapped commands into the system, and it beeped. “Reversed.” To Chelsea, she said, “Fix the hull. I’ll find you if you try to escape.”

  My heart sank.

  “You compromised Humming Bird?” I asked. After all these years, Valerie destroyed my system? I swallowed hard and beat the station in front of me. My knuckles split and bled. My once best friend, now competitor, crippled my life’s work. Disabled the system as easily as jail-breaking a phone.

  Valerie’s eyes slid to mine with a gaze somewhere between pride and remorse. “It’s a good system. The only downfall is it’s easily meddled with.”

  My breathing hit a fever pitch. Too many secrets, too many hidden agendas. SeaSatellite5 was being ripped away from me. Chelsea was already gone. And now Humming Bird, the only thing I had left.

  Thompson stalked to Chelsea and ripped her off the floor. “Come on.” Chelsea grunted against his hold.

  Valerie’s hand shot out to my arm. Next thing I knew, we all stood on an overhang over SeaSatellite5’s helicopter, underneath the broken section of hull. Water rushed inside in torrents. The only thing keeping the station pressurized were the remaining portions of the shield, but those were quickly fading. Water spat on our faces, drenching our clothes.

  “Plug it,” Thompson ordered Chelsea, finger thrust at the leak.

  “No,” she said.

  “Chelsea,” I pleaded. “Come on.”

  “No—fuck you,” she spat. “I can’t believe you of all people did this to me.”

  Her words were a kick to the balls. I never intended for any of this to happen. Protecting her was all I ever wanted. “It’s not what you—”

  “On the contrary, it’s exactly what she thinks,” Valerie said. “You lied. You hid secrets about yourself, your role here, and all the things you knew about her from the beginning. Things she didn’t know and needed to. I’d be pissed, too.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Thompson declared. Two more of his lackeys appeared beside us, Captain Marks and Lieutenant Weyland in their grasp.

  “No!” Chelsea shouted, lunging for them.

  I stood frozen in place. A sinking feeling in my chest said this was about to go belly up. All of it.

  Thompson gripped her by the arm and pointed to the leak. “Fix it, or they die. You all will.”

  Deliberation sparked in her eyes. She was calculating something. Maybe how long it’d take her to teleport out of here? Her hands shook, fingers curling and uncurling.

  “I can’t,” she said, voice shaking. “It’s too much water. I don’t have control.”

  “Then you’d better learn some,” Thompson said as he shoved her toward the edge. “Now.”

  My lungs left the building. Gone. I couldn’t breathe. An invisible hand constricted my throat. This was it. This is how it’d all end.

  Chelsea shook her head. “No.”

  Thompson nodded, and the guy holding Weyland pushed him to the edge to the overhang. The only thing keeping Weyland on the platform were his feet and the guy’s arm. Captain Marks’s eyes widened, but he stayed silent. Why didn’t he act? Why didn’t he move to stop this?

  Because he couldn’t. No one could, except Chelsea. And she didn’t want to.

  “Chelsea, you don’t understand,” I pleaded, my words tripping over each other. What would make her understand? This wasn’t about her and what she wanted to do. It was about the whole damn crew. The entire station. “The more water that rushes in, the bigger the hole will get. Eventually the shield won’t be able to compensate, and it’ll collapse. We will die when that happens, Chelsea. The station will implode.”

  “So, flip it upright,” she said, eyes darting between everyone in the room, down to the drop below us, landing last on the leak.

  “Flipping the station won’t help. I know you can do it, Chelsea,” I said. “Just concentrate.” We were too deep to be waterlogged. If she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—fix this, this would be the end.

  “With them on a precipice? Yeah, right,” she said, hands jutting toward Captain Marks and Weyland. “Take them away from the edge, then I’ll try.”

  “Trying is not an option.” Thompson waved to the man holding Captain Marks.

  Thompson’s lackey shoved the Captain onto the edge next to Weyland.

  “Don’t!” I shouted at Thompson. “Chelsea, you can do this.”

  She shook her head. “I am terrified of heights and nothing works right when I’m scared. Trying is the best you’re gonna freaking get.”

  Thompson’s chest rose and fell in a heavy motion. He nodded at his men, and they pulled Captain Marks away from the edge. “You’ve saved your Captain. Plug the leak to save his Lieutenant.”

  Chelsea’s eyes met Weyland’s for a long moment before Weyland nodded.

  “Fine,” she spat. Chelsea approached the edge and held her hands up. “I don’t even know how to do this.”

  I wanted to say chill out first, but knew it wouldn’t help her.

  She lifted her hands and, slowly, the water obeyed some unseen command. Across a span of pregnant minutes, the water stopped rushing in, and what was inside returned back out into the sea in a raging torrent. She did it. She honest-to-god moved waves of water like all the stories of Atlantis I’d been told about as a kid. Like she was the maker of waves, or Poseidon himself. She was Atlantean, powerful, beautiful, and in total control. Her display took my breath away.

  “Now,” I told Thompson. “Have Olivarez try now.”

  He spoke into his radio. Above us, a glow announced the shield’s recovery. Chelsea let go, the leak plugged.

  “Good job,” I told her. Except she wasn’t looking at me. Or anyone.

  Her head pointed to the ground below us, then she lifted her arms in a quick motion. In the blink of an eye water soared at Thompson’s head in the shape of a sword. He raised a hand and blasted fire, vaporizing the water. Chelsea’s eyes widened, and she stumbled backwards, away from the flame. She slid on the slick ground, slipped, and tumbled over the edge. I lunged for her, but Thompson tugged me back. Chelsea fell, shrieking as she plunged downward through three stories of empty space.

  My heart dropped alongside her.

  That scream… God that scream. Chelsea. My Chelsea. Scared of heights, plummeting three stories, down, down, down.

  I thrashed and beat Thompson. Got an elbow into his side. A heel into his shin. I thrust my head back at his nose. It connected and he cursed.

  “Let me go!” I screamed. No. No, no, no. Fuck. “Chelsea!”

  It was stupid. The drop was too far. Her screams had stopped, but I heard no sound of impact. God, why was I listening for one? A wave of chills and extreme heat overtook me all at once.

  “Dammit!” Captain Marks shouted. “You bastard.”

  Both he and Weyland struggled with their guards, but neither found purchase. Georgie struck Weyland across the face. Captain Marks took the butt of a gun to his head.

  Thompson threw me into the wall, my body connecting hard. I slid to the ground. I pushed myself up an
d wiped my face free of water and tears. It didn’t help. One or both constantly rushed my cheeks and lips.

  “Chelsea,” I said her name, quieter this time. She’d have responded if she were still alive. But she wasn’t. She was gone.

  Dead.

  Lost.

  I drew a ragged breath past my lips and wiped my face with my arm. My body shook, tremors from quick, uneven breaths, from the echoing of Chelsea’s scream, from losing her.

  I shivered. Cold. Impossibly cold from the only fire in my life being snuffed out in a single, shrieking moment.

  I stared into nothingness, the empty space she occupied moments ago.

  Blue lights began to fill that space and, dammit, my heart skipped straight to the hope that maybe, just maybe, the impossible had happened. Maybe she’d survived. Maybe she’d teleported to me, just how she’d always had.

  I hated that hope. Hope had never done me any good.

  Then a waterfall cascaded in front of me. I sucked in a deep, long breath as Chelsea materialized from within the torrent. She’d teleported out of the drop. She survived. She was alive. Happiness surged through my veins.

  “Chelsea,” I said, reaching out to touch her, to convince myself she wasn’t a mirage.

  She spun around, eyes wild, and struck Thompson. His head snapped back, but he recovered quickly. Chelsea swept up a kick to his stomach. He flew backwards into the wall beside me.

  “Valerie!” Thompson bellowed.

  Chelsea waved her hand over a lingering puddle. No water followed her command. Valerie had disabled her powers once more, leaving her helpless. She charged, but one of Thompson’s lackeys tackled her to the ground.

  “Chelsea,” I croaked. I hiccupped past tears. She was alive.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Nice try,” Thompson said, grasping his middle with one hand. He wiped blood from his nose and mouth with the other. “Nice try.”

  I hadn’t seen Chelsea since they’d dragged her away, tears in her eyes. And every minute, every second, that had passed since was another nail hammered into my heart. But Thompson didn’t slip up again until hour eighteen, when he strolled over to Christa and diverted his attention from me.

  I glanced across the Bridge at Freddy. Despite the look of concentration on his face, his fingers were casually placed on the side of his head. Three of them, just sitting there, gently tapping his headset.

  I reached up nonchalantly and flipped mine to channel three. “Am I that obvious?”

  He removed his hand from the side of his head and placed his fingers under his nose to cover the headset’s mic. “You kiddin’ me? I’ve been waiting for hours.”

  I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it. “I need you. I’ll buy you a drink if my plan works.”

  “Hell, I’ll buy you one after we get off this tank.” He shifted in his seat like he was ready to jailbreak himself, no matter the cost.

  A chuckle broke through me, despite all the other negative feelings. “Deal. Can you do something for me?”

  “Say the word.”

  I hesitated. What I wanted to ask of him wasn’t fair. “Be a distraction. I’m going to send a transmission for reinforcements.”

  His eyes flitted to mine. “Didn’t Chelsea call the Admiral?”

  “The Admiral can’t help us. I need to call someone else.”

  Freddy tilted his head, thinking, and raised one bushy eyebrow. “Well, this oughta be fun.”

  He took off his headset and jumped up from his station. He made a mad dash toward Thompson but stopped short and jumped, yanking down a pipe from above. Smoke sprayed into Thompson’s face. Freddy punched his jaw, then his gut. Christa, who’d been sitting at the secondary communications station, stood and made her way toward them for back up. One of Thompson’s guys pointed a gun at her. She froze.

  I took my opportunity and hopped onto the primary communications station, dialing the number Dr. Hill gave me. It patched me through some awkward dial-up noises to a military base. A click sounded. The call had gone through.

  “I need to talk to whoever’s in charge of TAO right now.”

  The female voice on the other end tutted. “You’ve reached a wrong number. This is a U.S. Army—”

  “I’m a member of SeaSatellite5. Dr. Hill can’t contact you right now. We need—”

  Someone dragged me from the console and threw me to the ground. My shoulder slammed into the metal grating. Thompson’s creep stood over me, foot poised for a kick in the ribs.

  “That was stupid,” he said and shot the console with his gun. Electrical sparks sputtered everywhere with the tiny explosion.

  “Did you seriously do that?” I thrust my hand at the console. “You shot Communications!”

  He kicked me in the ribs. I curled my body and coughed blood. Every sharp inhale stung. He holstered his gun then lifted me by the sides of my shirt, turning me to face Thompson.

  “Trevor!” Christa yelped, backing off from the fight. She stepped back onto the communications platform.

  “You’re quickly becoming more trouble than you’re worth,” said Thompson. He had Freddy in cuffs.

  Freddy sported a new gash above his eyebrow and a bloody lip. His eyes asked if I’d done what I needed to.

  I nodded at him. Yes.

  The secondary communications station chirped to life before they removed us from the Bridge. I glanced up at Thompson to see if he’d answer. Was TAO calling back?

  Thompson strode over and keyed in some commands. “Accept the transmission, Lieutenant Commander.”

  “Do it yourself!” she snapped.

  “Do it, Christa,” I said.

  She looked at me.

  It’s important. Please.

  She nodded like she knew my thoughts and stepped into Thompson’s space. After a few seconds, her eyebrows bunched together.

  “What is it?” Thompson asked.

  Her eyes drifted to mine. “I’m not sure.”

  Thompson all but shoved her out of the way and glared down at the screen. His eyes snapped to mine. “What did you do?”

  “Ask for help,” I answered.

  He pointed at the screen. “It’s Atlantean!”

  “Is it?” Why would TAO send a message in Atlantean? I held onto the thought as he got in my face, spittle flying into my eyes.

  Thompson’s face reddened to a deep purple. “Are you working for TAO?”

  Not a word spilled from my lips.

  He pointed to the console once more. “The message. What do they know?”

  “I can’t read Atlantean.”

  He stepped away from me and scanned the message again. The more he read, the closer his hand got to the gun at his hip. I swallowed hard. He flicked his pistol out of his holster and clicked off the safety, pointing the barrel at me. “I knew you weren’t right for this job. You’re a double-agent, aren’t you?”

  Thompson stepped toward me, but spoke to his lackeys instead. “Get more engineers up here. I need this ship in top shape.” He glared at me. “Humming Bird included. We’re going to see what your machine is capable of, Trevor. And this time, you better be willing to risk your life for it.”

  Thompson stormed off the Bridge, barking orders as he went.

  Of all the engineers Thompson could have brought up, I was thankful it was Michael that Thompson’s guys had dragged onto the Bridge. He knew how Humming Bird worked, and I knew I could trust him. Thompson sat him at a station and told him to work.

  Michael’s eyes drifted to mine, a silent question swimming within them. I shook my head. We couldn’t speak. Not now.

  Christa still held her station. Weyland had taken position at Freddy’s NANA station, for a reason I didn’t catch, in the time it took Thompson to find another engineer. But Christa, Weyland, Michael, and I were not enough. I understood why Thompson wanted the station— Chelsea and the artifacts—but running the ship ragged wasn’t the way to do it. Every problem we solved, every repair we made to fix something T
hompson’s ungraceful takeover caused, a new issue took its place.

  Without warning, Weyland crouched next to me. “How many are onboard?”

  My gaze darted around the room. Thompson and his crew had disappeared.

  “Ten including Valerie,” I said. “But don’t plan a takeover attempt.”

  His brow furrowed. “I have to.”

  “Don’t. I can’t explain everything—we don’t have time. This situation is unstable.”

  “There are one-hundred-and-one innocent crew members onboard, Trevor. Most of them civilians. I have to do something.”

  How could I explain this without having to tell him everything? “Weyland, these people are like Chelsea—but the enemy. They may have abilities we can’t account for.”

  The information didn’t seem to faze him. “So what? We sit and wait? That’s not going to happen.” A pause. “And how do you know?”

  “Because I’ve seen them. Trust me, just this once. Help is coming.”

  His eyes grew hard. “You get three more hours, then I act.”

  I was surprised he’d given me that much. Maybe something would change his mind in the meantime. I had to believe something would, or their takeover attempt would turn into a bloodbath. TAO had contacted us. They had to be coming. And if Dr. Hill knew about the Lemurian-Atlantean war, his people would be armed to handle this situation… right? Did they have their own soldiers like Chelsea?

  “Deal.” I couldn’t ask for more.

  “Hey!” Thompson shouted, striding back through the door. Weyland and I both turned, thinking we were caught, but Thompson’s focus wasn’t on us.

  Michael had changed places and was fiddling with the command station where Captain Marks usually stood. I hadn’t even seen him move. He had half the command station broken apart, digging around inside, wires askew. In a matter of thirty seconds, he’d nearly taken apart the whole thing. Why? For what?

  Thompson and one of the guards in the hallway both charged Michael. The guard’s shoulder dug into Michael’s chest, but Michael held his ground. He held two stripped ends of wire together, forcing them to spark. Why?

  “Get off of him!” Weyland shouted, joining the fray.