Because adding a flock of interns to a military research station totally made this entire situation less weird. And friends? I wasn’t so sure that’d happen. I got the feeling Valerie and I were extremely different. And then there was the whole making Trevor nervous thing.
“Good to know,” I said finally.
“Have a good night, Chelsea.”
“You too.”
As soon as she left, I plopped onto the full-sized bed. The softness of the blankets lulled me into relaxation, soaking up all the tension in my bones. The ceiling held my interest for a long time, a blank slate for my mind-made pros and cons chart. Sarah, my sister, gave me this technique for when a decision seemed too muddled to easily choose one way or another. Usually, it gave me an answer: archaeology, not anthropology; the deep blue guitar the same shade as the water off Castle Island, not the less expensive purple guitar.
Today, Sarah’s method failed me.
On the pros side: This internship meant something to do, an internship to add to my resume, and an explanation of whatever the hell happened earlier today.
On the cons side: I’d be away from the band all summer, I’d be studied like a test rat, and, honestly, being underwater and stuck in a tin can made me all sorts of claustrophobic.
The lists evened each other out.
I closed my eyes and wrapped myself in a cocoon of blankets. A good night’s sleep would make everything easier. Maybe in the morning teleportation would make more sense, and the rest would fall into place.
Maybe I’d wake to find all of this nothing but a dream.
Trevor
helsea couldn’t leave today as planned, and though that messed up her plans, it brightened my day. It meant more time spent with her before she left. Stormy seas and skies kept SeaSatellite5’s helicopter grounded, and would for at least another twenty-four hours.
I showered early to wash away the dark bags under my eyes and then watched my alarm clock until its red numbers announced 7:30 a.m. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice and miss bringing Chelsea to breakfast. I wanted to make sure she knew of the change of plans, and I hadn’t talked to her since she went off with Valerie last night.
Anxiety washed over me, heated my neck. I didn’t have a plan for if Valerie had told her about Atlantis and Lemuria, the truth about the war and our people. I didn’t want to have to plan for that.
The Lift travelled slowly to spite me. Like the diagnostics I ran on Humming Bird and the shield system yesterday, one by one the ship’s systems ridiculed me for wanting Chelsea. For wishing like a child for Chelsea’s powers to be a fluke. For hoping nothing else happened to escalate the situation on SeaSatellite5 into something war-worthy.
As if to reinforce the mocking I deserved, the Lift stopped on the last floor of the Dining Decks. Valerie stood in the doors’ wake.
“Do you make it a habit of stalking me?” I said.
She lifted the coffee and muffin in her hands, not a smirk in sight. “It’s called breakfast.”
I scrubbed my face and moved aside. “Just get in already.”
“Jeez. Bad morning?” Valerie stepped inside and hit the Science Deck 3 button.
“Long morning.” Long two mornings.
“It’s past eight.” She sighed. “Didn’t sleep, did you?”
The Lift’s doors shut, and we started our ascent.
“If the engineering interns would stop messing with the Bird, I’d be fine,” I said, passing off the blame. My irregular sleep schedule had always been my fault. I had tried to change it after joining SeaSatellite5, but college habits die hard—even harder when you’re doing the work of eight others.
My interns thought an engineering degree meant they could operate the world. Humming Bird’s day-to-day issues, on top of yesterday’s events, had proved them wrong. I had scheduled a meeting for 10:00 a.m. to address it before I learned of Chelsea’s schedule change. Now she’d be stuck here another day, without real work to do and without many people she knew.
Valerie reached over and hit the stop button on the elevator.
“Hey!” I shouted. I reached out to start us moving again, but she stepped in front of me, sacrificing some of her coffee to the ground.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“Can we do this some other time?”
Her eyes set firm on mine. “No. She’s Atlantean. This is a problem.”
My right fist curled, and I chewed on all of my first responses to keep them from spilling out. I wasn’t an idiot. I understood what Chelsea’s presence meant. But she barely had control over her power and didn’t seem to even understand what having that power meant. I.e., not a threat.
“Oh, let me guess,” she said. “You don’t think so.”
“No, I don’t.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “No, of course not.” Her glare tore through me, like we were kids and I didn’t understand something she’d perfected. “You’re an idiot, and she jeopardizes the mission.”
“You’re crazy—”
“Dr. Gordon thinks Chelsea’s Atlantean, and her powers don’t match what we know of the Lemurians’ abilities. That puts us at odds and your romantic fantasies at a full standstill.”
My tongue found a home squished between my molars. What did it matter if Chelsea had an Atlantean heritage if she didn’t know what it meant? I’d been born Lemurian and didn’t fight in the war. Didn’t even have powers. What amount of threat did I pose? None. Nothing.
Breathe, Boncore. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Oh, come on. You meet randomly in Boston then she shows up here? Don’t you understand—” She stopped, forced a breath into her lungs, and fixated her eyes on mine. “It’s a fluke, but it’s not the coincidence you want it to be, either. And don’t you dare forget for one second what her kind did to Abby.”
My chest constricted around my lungs, rendering them useless. “You have no proof of that.”
Fire lit in her eyes, burning the amber into molten lava. Her grip tightened around her coffee cup. “She’s in a fucking ward, Trevor! What more proof do you need?”
I stepped forward and nudged Valerie out of the way so I could jab the STOP button again to restart our ascent. “Leave Abby’s situation out of this. Chelsea’s just a girl. A confused, scared girl who didn’t know she had powers until yesterday. If she can’t control her powers, they’re not useful. And before you say it—she’s not faking it. We don’t need to do anything about her, and we’re not going to. Let’s continue the mission.”
“Thompson will have your head if you’re wrong and he finds out you kept this from him.”
“Then you’re going down with me because you’re not saying anything, either.”
“We’re making the wrong move, Trevor.” Her eyes widened, and her mouth tugged down into a frown. Almost beseeching me. Except pleading wasn’t something Valerie did.
“If anything else happens, if any other powers show up on anyone onboard this station, I’m following orders,” Valerie said.
That was the closest I’d get to an agreement, and I knew it. I also knew nothing would happen. Or, at least, I hoped. “Fine.”
The Lift halted and beeped. The doors opened.
“Have a good day, Valerie,” I said before ambling out of the Lift.
“You too,” she said. “One last thing.”
Not good. I turned to find a wicked grin on her face.
“If I can’t report her, I’ll have to watch her closely.” She flashed me a mischievous expression and winked before flipping her hair over her shoulder. Couldn’t deny Valerie was gorgeous in a breath-taking way. Her round, brown eyes sucked you into her world, and her personality, when not annoying, kept you there.
“Hope you won’t mind,” she said, smirking one last time as the Lift doors shut.
My brain conjured up images of Valerie questioning Chelsea about ancient history and archaeology late into the night, things Valerie wanted to study but
couldn’t. What if Chelsea was into painting, like Valerie? Or the same movies? Or music?
Valerie planned to befriend her. Valerie and Chelsea, friends?
Shit.
My heartbeat still thundered in my chest when the Lift dropped me off on Level 2, home to the quarters of Captain Marks and any guests. An angry Valerie—or a Valerie with a challenge—wasn’t easily dealt with. Our freshman year of college—the only year we’d shared in school because of my accelerated plan—our Advanced General Physics professor had told her she’d never pass the course with five other classes and a full set of extracurriculars. He’d said no one had ever passed his class with so much on their plate. Valerie had not only passed, but ended up correcting him on his creative license tangents from our textbook every single lecture.
I should have run the day Valerie joined SeaSat5, not the first day I had an opening. Running with a reason would have gotten me farther.
I knocked on Chelsea’s door, forcing myself to cease worrying about what would happen once she boarded SeaSat5 for good. About what a friendship between Valerie and Chelsea might look like. About how it could twist my judgment regarding working here to appease my family. I’d only returned to keep SeaSat5 safe from those crazies in case they weren’t bluffing. In case they really wanted the station for war.
My palms and forehead started to sweat in the time it took Chelsea to answer. What if she wasn’t awake? What if I woke her up? This was a bad idea. Damn Valerie for setting me on edge.
My feet followed the unspoken command to leave.
No. Grow a freaking pair and stay.
The privacy screen on the window slid up, and Chelsea’s face appeared. Her eyebrows furrowed, confused, then she smiled and opened the door. “Hey.”
Her smile grew into a grin, and she combed a hand through her hair, a slight blush rising in her cheeks. I didn’t see why she’d be worried—she looked gorgeous. Her short blonde hair curved around her face, highlighting her wild hazel eyes and full pink lips. What would it feel like to kiss them?
My breath hitched. Where the hell had that come from?
Rubbing the back of my neck, I cleared my throat. Idiot. “Morning. I didn’t mean to catch you sleeping.”
“Me? No.” She shook her head. “I’ve been up for hours. Didn’t sleep well.”
Dammit. If only I’d known. “Seems to be the norm around here, lately.”
She frowned. “You didn’t sleep?”
“Usually don’t.” I shifted my weight and swallowed. “I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but… Captain Marks wanted me to tell you that your disembarkation was put off for twenty-four hours.”
Her eyes widened and filled with despair. Her voice rose an octave. “A whole day? Why?”
The sadness and panic in her expression gutted me. Why couldn’t Valerie have told her? Or Dave?
“The weather’s too bad for takeoff,” I said. “And we’re too far out for a shuttle.”
“Shit,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Only a day?”
“Yeah, why?” I didn’t understand what had her so anxious besides wanting to get home. And it definitely seemed like there was more to it than that.
“Finals are next week, and I have a ton of work left to do.” She paused, wringing her hands together. “And a draft of my thesis is due in two days.”
My body soaked up her anxiety and made it my own. “I can set you up with a computer. You can’t retrieve files, but if you want to continue more from memory, I can make that happen. It’s only twenty-four hours.” Maybe more. But maybe less, too. Weather never cooperated. But I’d do whatever necessary, within my power, to help her out.
She looked to me with eyes that said if I could make this happen, I’d be her hero. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” I’d do just about anything to make her happy and comfortable right now. The last thing she needed was to accidentally teleport again. And if she failed out of school because we couldn’t fly a helicopter out of the Pacific, I’d never let it go. “Give me some time later this morning, and I’ll work it out for you.”
She hugged me like one might a new friend. The casual touch lit my skin on fire, and I fought everything within me wanting to hold her close for longer.
“Thank you. Seriously,” she said. “You’re a lifesaver.”
A swell of accomplishment flourished in my chest. I tried not to let it go to my head. Or the other one. “No problem. Are you up for breakfast?”
“Yeah. Let me clean this up real fast,” she said, pointing inside the room.
I strode inside and found a notebook with its guts ripped out over the bed covers, pens littered on top. My eyes widened. “If you wanted to bomb the station, maybe I shouldn’t have vouched for you.”
She spun, her eyes darting to mine like I was serious.
“Joke,” I said and pointed to the gutted notebook. “What happened?”
Chelsea piled the papers into a neat stack and set the heap inside the notebook’s remains. “Dave got me paper and pens so I could write music after I wouldn’t stop drumming the table in the Briefing Room. Something about not wanting to see me fail at drums or something.” She shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. “When the songs come, I have to write them down. My brain won’t shut off. Even under impending imprisonment of the U.S. Navy.”
“Imprisonment?” Captain Marks hired her, not signed her prison papers.
She pointed to the ceiling as if the gesture answered everything. “That’s how I’m choosing to think about the fact I’ll be trapped inside a tin can, half a mile under the surface of the ocean, for at least six months.”
It shouldn’t have, but her words struck a painful chord. Yeah, sometimes I couldn’t protect people, and the structural safety of this station was my job. But lying about a stupid ancient war to Abby—and now to Chelsea, too— was, in every way possible, absolutely different than failing to do my job as an engineer on SeaSatellite5. The former I couldn’t do anything about. The latter I refused to do anything but excel at. The station was structurally secure. I didn’t intend for that to change.
“You’re one hundred percent safe. I promise,” I said.
She shrugged then placed the notebook on the top of the dresser paralleling the door. “Yeah, well, one man’s treasure… or whatever.”
“Chelsea.”
“Hm?”
I tried not to smirk. “SeaSat5’s not going to sink. It’s my job to make sure it doesn’t.” Claustrophobia I understood, but, with Chelsea onboard, I’d definitely make sure Humming Bird didn’t go belly up.
“You?” A disbelieving smile formed on her lips. “‘Cause you’re an engineering intern or something, right?”
“I’m not an intern.” I wasn’t allowed to say anything before, but she’d find out eventually.
Her eyes narrowed. Did she think I lied? I mean, after denying I knew her, I suppose I understood why she would. But she had to know I’d do anything to keep her safe.
I opened my mouth to convince her, but the lines around her eyes softened, and she grinned. “I figured. Just wanted to hear it from you.”
“Excuse me?” My heart pumped a little harder. How much did Valerie tell her on their short walk last night?
“Valerie said the work you two do is high up. Although, she swears she’s in bio engineering, so I don’t understand how you’re involved, but”—she held up a finger—“you’ve been informal with the officers. That suggests you’re not as far down on the food chain as an intern.”
Well then. Leave it to the social scientist to study workplace culture. “I’m a full engineer. I built the ballast system.”
“Valerie told me that, too.”
I forced a sharp breath. “Did she?” At this rate, Chelsea would know all about my true position on SeaSatellite5 by the end of her first week. Hell, even Captain Marks would know, and then the fireworks would really fly. Treason. Espionage. So many charges, all applicable.
Chelsea nodded and paused, e
yebrows scrunching together around her thoughts. “You two aren’t—I mean, you guys don’t seem to get along well, but Valerie made it seem like you two were… friends. Which is fine. I…”
Chelsea used “friends” instead of “dating.” Was she jealous? My pulse locked into flank speed, fast and uncontrollable. Could she be interested in me, too?
Chelsea watched me, waiting for an answer.
Swallowing, I shook my head. “Val’s one of a kind.” A very special, annoying kind. “We’ve only ever been friends. Our parents knew each other, and we graduated from the same schools.”
“Schools plural?” Chelsea shook her head. “How’d you both land a position on a classified Navy vessel at nineteen, anyway?”
“Valerie’s twenty-one.” The need to clarify was childish, but our age difference had been a point of contention between Valerie and me for years. Specifically, that I had accomplished more in nineteen years than she had in twenty-one. I personally didn’t care—I never wanted this, anyway—but Valerie’s jealous, competitive switch flipped every time someone brought it up.
“So, how’d you end up the engineer and she the intern?” Chelsea asked.
I snorted. “Would you believe a doodle from my freshman year of college is to blame?”
Chelsea’s eyes flicked to mine, jaw dropping. “You’re not serious.”
A bubbling rose in my chest. I couldn’t help but laugh. “I am.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “I give up.”
“On what?” I asked, still trying to reign in my laughter at her exasperation.
“I work my ass off studying for years, and what finally lands me a paying internship? Witchcraft anomaly.” Her eyes met mine, light and no longer chiding. “You doodle and land a career.”
I shrugged. “Some of us luck out.” And the rest of us are thrown into rigorous studies by our parents.
“And you play it off like it’s nothing.” She grabbed one of the pens and shoved it in her pocket. “You’re a piece of work, Mr. Boncore.”
Gyre (Atlas Link Series Book 1) Page 7