Countercurrent

by Jessica Gunn

  Captain Marks laid a warm hand on my shoulder. It did little to comfort me. No one, nowhere, was safe anymore. Least of all the station that had once been a Link Piece connecting to Atlantis. “I know,” the Captain said. “I don’t think he did, either. But until we have proof, until we know for absolute certain, I have to act as though he were in on it, Chelsea. I have to follow the Admiral’s orders as though every facility that Trevor has ever set foot in, SeaSat5 included, is compromised.”

  I cupped my ears against his words, against our new reality.

  With Trevor the only one to blame, there was no other option. He’d had access to both sea satellite ships. To TAO. He knew about TruGates and General Allen and had had the Waterstar map in his head until recently. Trevor knew everything, making him a walking playbook to every Link Piece we’d ever found. If we didn’t stop whatever this was, the White City could be looking at an easy way to fuel themselves for good. For life.

  For forever. Just like Atlas had said a few months ago, that they fed off time energy.

  They’d have all our Link Piece knowledge.

  Just like they wanted.

  I slid onto the examination room bed and crossed my legs. The hospital gown hung off my shoulders, so I crossed my arms too. The clock on the wall read 4:36 a.m. I’d been awake for too long, but with all the time zone hops and hospital stays, it was hard to tell when exactly I’d last slept.

  It felt like eons and yet sleep didn’t come.

  I held up my hand and peered down at the ring on my finger. Trevor had barely had time to slide it on before the attack started. Fluorescents from above made the white gold shine, my breath hitching. Something deep in my chest—my heart—shattered. When my breath returned, it came in short gasps. We’d been close, so close to some semblance of normality. Engaged. Working together, developing Atlas together. And then—then the worst had happened.

  We’d known it would.

  Building a sea satellite station with Link Piece control equated to marking the secret weapons of mass destruction cache on your enemy’s radar for them. We’d done all the work, made it a target for war, instead of using it as a tool to circumvent the White City and continue our studies.

  A knock on the examination room door pulled me out of my thoughts.

  “Come in,” I called.

  Dr. Helen Gordon peeked her head in and, seeing I was decent, entered and shut the door behind her. She smiled, soft and warm, and wheeled over a chair. “How are you doing?”

  I looked at her and shrugged. “How do you want me to be doing?”

  She frowned. “Chelsea—”

  “I’m not trying to deflect the questions, so please don’t think that. It’s just… half think I should be devastated over Trevor and everyone else wants Weyland to come heal me before I fall to pieces. I’m honestly surprised the hospital let me leave at all.” Given my impressive list of injuries, Helen must have worked some of her military doctor magic to make that happen.

  “Weyland will be here soon. Until then…” She grabbed her stethoscope. Why, I didn’t know. I’d been mostly cleared, just declared moronic for being discharged. I wouldn’t be running into battle anytime soon, but I could function. Mostly.

  The metal cooled on my back as she listened to my lungs. “I think you’ll be fine,” said Helen. “They did a good job at the hospital.”

  “Banged up but not beaten,” I said. “I’m aware.”

  She slung her stethoscope back around her neck. “Are all of your powers gone?”

  I nodded. “Appears so. I could barely fight the White City soldiers who’d followed me to Logan’s.” If it weren’t for Logan’s quick thinking and decent aim, I’d probably be dead right now.

  Helen frowned and plopped back into her chair. “I’m sorry, Chelsea. I wasn’t aware powers could be taken away permanently.” She looked up at me. “That had to be terrifying.”

  I shrugged it off. “I didn’t always have them, might never ever again.”

  “Don’t be distant about this. Don’t throw up your shield.”

  “Helen, I have no shield left to put up,” I said, the words hollow. “I don’t know what happened in the last twenty-four hours, but everything’s changed. All I want right now is to get back into the fight. That’s all.”

  “And to find Trevor,” she said with raised eyebrows.

  How was that even a question? “Yes. I will find Trevor.” Maybe if I got my powers back, I could trace this vague feeling in my gut that he was still alive all the way to him. Just like the first time. “I need to contact my parents. Maybe my powers aren’t gone for good. Maybe they’re just blocked.”

  “Like how Weyland’s were?” she asked.

  Before Weyland’s powers awoke, they’d been bound. Or so we thought. Most of the super soldiers and other Atlantean descendants whom Helen had studied all came into their powers in their late twenties. Weyland admitted to having his powers about a year before joining SeaSat5 at around thirty-five years old. For some reason, his were bound and something—age, being on SeaSat5, maybe even running into other super soldiers and not knowing it—had triggered them and broken through the binding.

  Again, I shrugged. “I don’t know, Helen. Neither of us do.” Whatever Helen had learned in the years prior to me joining SeaSat5, most of it had been rewritten or thrown out completely by the reality of this war.

  Silence enveloped us for a few moments before she stood again and gestured to the bed I sat on. “Lay back. I want to check out your head and ribs before Weyland gets here, just to make sure everything sets right.”

  “Okay.”

  But I had to wonder—would anything set right after this?

  Sometime later, after Helen had finished examining me and I’d been left alone to sleep again, Weyland appeared. He slipped past the recovery room door and stood at the edge of the room. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I shot back. “Why the cold shoulder?”

  “Heard you and Josh duked it out,” he said. “I didn’t know if that would apply to me, too.”

  I rolled my eyes and waved him over. “Heal me. Please, Weyland. Josh can’t stop trying to protect me or win me back and I’m not ready for that yet. You didn’t do any of the things they did, under General Allen’s orders or not. You didn’t hurt me.” I sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, holding out my wrist. “Please fix this first. It’s killing me.”

  His eyes roamed over my hand, then up to my head. “Helen warned me.”

  “Warned you about what?” I asked him. “You didn’t look any better when you showed up in the middle of a mosh pit at Phoenix and Lobster’s show.”

  Weyland didn’t respond to that. Rather, he gestured for me to lay back and I did. He held his hands above my ribcage and wiggled his fingers. “Ready?”

  “Guess so.” Having Weyland heal people every time someone got hurt was an abuse of his power. I wanted to tell him as much, to deny direct orders, but he’d already started doing his job. Instead, I asked, “Do you think they had clinics full of healers on Atlantis?”

  Weyland’s eyes lifted to mine, wrinkles around the corners. He’d buzzed his head again now that he was back on SeaSat5, and it’d started becoming more of a grey-brown than the full head of dark hair he’d sported on our first tour together. Just more evidence of how these last three years have changed us. “Maybe. Why?”

  I went to shrug but stopped. I didn’t want to move too much and ruin any of his concentration more than I already was by talking, but I couldn’t stand the silence. Like if I stopped moving and talking, if everyone did, the reality of today would slam home and I’d lose it completely. “Just wondering. I’ve been curious about if they used healing freely in Atlantis.”

  “Doubtful,” said Weyland as he moved his fingers up toward my head. My eyes followed the movement, watching the dark sapphire haze around his hands, hanging like thick fog in the air. Did that cloud have the healing properties itself? Or did the power come from Weyland? I’d assume the latt
er, since healing people always made him weak himself, but did we really know? “Injuries like this take a lot to heal. They were at war. If anything, they might have reserved it for soldiers.”

  This time I let the oncoming shrug mature to fruition. It didn’t matter. The war between Atlantis and Lemuria was over, the Atlanteans were stranded in their home-time for good, and any remaining super soldiers were either sided with the White City or being hunted by them. Except for Weyland, Sophia, Charlie, and me.

  The warmth emanating from Weyland’s fingers retreated. Chills swept my body in its wake.

  “You’re all set,” he said, then added, “Injuries wise. I, uh, would still maybe wait for Helen to clear you again in case I missed something.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m still getting used to these powers and you were badly injured.”

  “I’m aware. Think I can wait until tomorrow, though? I can’t sleep in another hospital room again. I can’t.” Damn my voice. It broke on the last word as tears stung my eyes. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the traitorous waterworks. I was so tired of crying. Of being treated as weak.

  I wasn’t weak. People got hurt in battle all the time. And just because I hadn’t gotten hurt this bad before didn’t mean I was done for. Right?

  “Let me ask her, then I can help you get to your quarters. Okay?” he said.

  “Sure.”

  Weyland slipped out the door. I wiped my hands over my face and eyes as soon as he was gone.

  “Put it away, Danning,” I told myself as I changed out of the hospital gown and into clothes Valerie had brought for me. “Cry later. Never. Anytime other than now.”

  Chapter Eight

  TREVOR

  They made me witness it from afar—all the destruction, everyone dying. They forced me to watch every second of security camera footage from the Atlas. My stomach roiled with every hit Chelsea took, every bone broken.

  Then the Atlas exploded to almost nothing, with Chelsea inside. Chelsea had been inside when it blew. My heart raced inside of my chest, thumping against my ribs like a caged animal. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t act. Could barely breathe.

  “She got out,” a voice told me. “Your precious love. Took four of our kind with her.” He rounded my containment chair, a device strapping down my limbs during the debriefing—like they thought I’d suddenly changed my mind after so many months spent committed to the cause. “Is your Atlantean heart satisfied with that outcome?”

  I gritted my teeth together, hiding all sense of relief.

  Chelsea had gotten off Atlas before it had shattered to pieces. Chelsea was alive. But not for long.

  Not for long at all.

  I frowned, my stomach sinking. My heart was obliterated by the news, smashed into a thousand tiny pieces being stomped on by the White City. If Chelsea had survived, then I’d failed. And that wouldn’t do at all.

  The man laughed, a hand on his stomach as he leaned back. His laugh echoed across the blank walls all the way to the viewing glass opposite us. The others sat behind it, watching. Waiting.

  I’d failed. The attacks on TAO and SeaSat5 had been thwarted. Chelsea had lived. And now they all knew we were after them. That I was against them.

  I hung my head in shame.

  Chapter Nine

  CHELSEA

  I slid my finger through the loop and wrapped my finger back around the string. Tied a knot. Undid it. Repeat.

  That was my entire morning. Thanks to whatever medicine Helen had given me, I’d slept rock solid through the whole night. Or that was what my alarm clock told me. Time had moved as if I’d blinked and skipped ahead nine hours, but none of the benefits of sleep appeared. My head pounded—probably not a good sign—and without my ability to heal fast, my body ached something fierce. A stinging throbbed over my various lacerations, perfectly in time with the pulse pounding in my ears. Of all the abilities of mine to lose, why did fast healing have to be one of them?

  Someone knocked on the thin door separating me from the rest of the Infirmary.

  “Come in.”

  Valerie inched the door open. Someone else stood behind her, a woman about our age. She had bright blonde hair that’d been dyed two-toned, a dark red underneath. I wondered if, seeing she was friends with Valerie, the color choice had a deeper meaning.

  Valerie shut the door behind her. “Hey, girlie.”

  “Hey.”

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  I chuckled bitterly. “Like shit.” Valerie frowned, pausing at the door. I sighed and beckoned her to come into the room. “I want this mess to be over with. I’m not convinced this isn’t a living nightmare I can’t wake up from.”

  Valerie sat on the edge of my bed and waved over the other woman. “I wish it was. This is Charlie. Charlie, meet Chelsea.”

  I lifted my gaze to her. Valerie had told us she was another Atlantean super soldier. When all this started three years ago, it seemed as though I was the only one of those left on the planet. Now we seemed to find a new soldier every week.

  Charlie extended a hand and I shook it. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “From Valerie? I hope at least some of it was good things.”

  Valerie snorted. “I promise nothing.”

  A smile edged my lips. I let it through. That small amount of happiness felt good in spite of everything going on. “Figures. I’m happy to find another soldier who’s on my side.”

  Charlie nodded. “After that attack, I don’t blame you.”

  “And the one on SeaSat5 months ago.” When Josh’s TruGates team had been ordered to take the station, they’d done so with a mix of TruGates staff, White City soldiers, and Atlanteans whom General Allen had somehow convinced to join his cause—or perhaps he had brainwashed them into it.

  “I heard about that,” Charlie said. “He seems powerful.”

  “Well, that’s the thing,” I said. “If General Allen had Josh wrapped around his finger, if he had all of them brainwashed, is it even remotely possible he’s done the same to Trevor?”

  “Maybe. But that wouldn’t explain how he was able to take your powers, or when,” Charlie said.

  I leaned back against the wall and frowned. “Pretty sure we decided it was while he proposed to me.” My lungs constricted, my stomach dropping. My left hand closed into a fist. I brushed my thumb against the ring. Should I keep it? The thought alone weighed a thousand pounds, driving me down until my arms and legs felt lethargic and limp.

  Trevor was alive—that I knew. But was he under the enemy’s control, or had Trevor really become the willing participant everyone thought him to be? Without even examining all the evidence in-depth, my gut told me no. Trevor would never do this, not if he had a choice.

  Charlie stepped closer to me. “For what it’s worth, I’ve never met Trevor. Valerie talks about him a lot, though.”

  “They’ve been friends since they were kids,” I said, hoping the jealousy didn’t show in my tone. Valerie had had so much more time with him compared to our impossibly short relationship.

  “If Valerie’s siding with you on this one,” Charlie said, “then I think there’s still hope for him. She knows him better than anyone. If the General or someone else from the White City brainwashed him, we can save Trevor.”

  Well, yeah. Valerie had fixed the memories of Josh and the rest of his team—and she didn’t even really like them. I knew Valerie would do whatever necessary to save Trevor.

  I rubbed my face with sweaty palms. “We have to find him first.”

  “We will,” Valerie said. “I’m already—”

  The Infirmary walls rattled. A little at first, then growing until items teetered off shelves. I glanced up at the ceiling as the station jerked and gripped on to the edge of the bed. A mighty roar permeated the walls, rattling them along with my bones.

  “What in the hell—?”

  A shriek rivaling dinosaur cries in every monster movie ever inter
rupted my words, sending goose bumps tidal-waving up my arms and a chill down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as my gaze roamed across the ceiling. Where was that coming from, inside the station?

  Outside of the station?

  “That’s not normal, is it?” Charlie asked as she rubbed her arms.

  “No.” The only thing that had ever made the station shake like this had been Atlanteans stealing it. But they were stuck in their home-time, landlocked from the rest of the time-traveling world.

  A roar tore through the air again, closer this time, and the floor quivered with the reverberation of the cry. Fluorescent lights overhead dimmed without warning, a red hue saturating the space in their wake, followed by a shrill general quarters alarm.

  “We’re under attack,” I grunted, shifting my weight off the bed. Weyland had healed me, but sore muscles still sent streaks of agony up my body with every movement. “Help me up.”

  Charlie rushed to my side and held my shoulder. “You shouldn’t move.”

  Ignoring her, I shouted for Valerie, who’d run into the hallway when the alarm had gone off.

  Valerie pushed through the door, eyes scouring the room and ceiling. “You guys hiding a dinosaur in here? I leave the crew and you pick up giant pet reptiles.”

  “Valerie.” I groaned as Charlie helped me off the bed. “Bridge. Now.”

  She nodded once and her muscles tensed—preparing to teleport.

  Another roar rocked the station and metal screeched like someone had dragged a giant fork down the hull. I covered my ears, but the grating persisted past my fingers, drilling right into my eardrums, and soon all three of us were bent over as if curling up would stop the sound.

  It didn’t, but the cry ended moments later.

  Valerie straightened and placed a hand on both Charlie and me. “Let’s go.” Fire swarmed around us with Valerie’s Lemurian transport.