Gyre (Atlas Link Series Book 1)

by Gunn, Jessica

  This outpost was real. Maybe it wasn’t even an outpost. It looked more like a library or museum or… anything but a settled garrison.

  “I’ll start on the west side of the room today,” Christa said. “Maybe we can explore farther if Ensign Olivarez gives us the okay.”

  “He’s still imaging the extent of the building?” Trevor asked.

  “Yes,” answered Christa. “Turns out it’s a lot more expansive than we thought, but we can’t be sure how structurally sound everything is.”

  “This room is protected for some reason,” I told Trevor. We still hadn’t discovered how the original builders had waterproofed and pressurized the room given their probable technology level at the time it was built.

  “Interesting,” Trevor mumbled.

  He studied the walls and some of the artifacts for long moments. He’d acted weird yesterday after we’d found the structure, almost scared instead of excited. I didn’t expect everyone to fangirl like I did over archaeological finds of the century, but his reaction had felt out of place. I’d shaken it off and focused on the work ahead of me, but the worry circled back.

  I stepped in beside him as he paced toward the east side of the room and slipped my hand in his. “You okay?”

  His eyes met mine. Dark bags hung below them. “Yeah. Just tired.”

  “You could have slept in.”

  He shook his head. “No. This find is huge, and until archaeological back-up arrives, you and Christa need whatever help you can get.”

  “We have a whole science team,” Dave called from the far side of the room. “It’s kind of their job.”

  “To work with sea fungus and biologics, not artifacts,” Trevor said.

  “It’s whatever,” I said. “We’ll be okay as long as no one breaks anything.” Would I have preferred other archaeologists do the work? Yeah. But these scientists could handle it.

  I approached a wardrobe in the corner. It had caught my eye late last night, sometime after Trevor left for SeaSatelite5, but I hadn’t gotten the chance to check it out. It was made out of a dark wood, sanded cleanly, and finished with some weird dye. Markings I didn’t recognize covered its face. So, not Greek, hieroglyphics, or cuneiform. Not that I could read any of them, anyway. No, its clearly struck lines and curves held unmistakable age, like the book I’d become attached to and had snuck over to SeaSatellite5. It had called to me, begging me to pick it up and take care of it.

  My fingers brushed the metal knobs of the wardrobe, and I tugged, lightly at first, then harder. The doors didn’t budge. “Hmph,” I muttered. “Why won’t you open?”

  “Here, let me try,” Trevor said, taking my spot.

  I wanted to say if my strength couldn’t get it open, his surely wouldn’t, but I didn’t have time. He heaved hard, once, and the doors gave like nothing had held them shut the whole time. Something tumbled out with the swing of the doors, landing on Trevor and dragging him to the marble floor in a wave of bodies.

  He stared at it for long moments before reacting. Trevor’s eyes grew wide and he paled to the shade of paper. “Shit, what the fuck? Get it off. Get it off!” But his hands wouldn’t cooperate with the command.

  I stood, frozen, stuck between wanting to laugh at the scene and wanting to rid him of the remains.

  “Holy fuck,” Dave exclaimed, rushing over with Christa in tow.

  “Careful,” I said, finally bending down to help Trevor. I slid the remains off his chest and gently placed them on the floor. “Don’t break anything.”

  “Don’t break anything?” Trevor breathed. “Are you kidding me?”

  I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep myself from laughing.

  “Not everyone likes this crap,” he said, eyes wandering again to the remains.

  I followed, taking in the sight of skin dried tight around an adult body. Dark hair remained intact, but the lips had shriveled away, teeth fully barred. Dark eye sockets sat pitted where eyes used to be. Its—her, I decided, looking at the dress she’d been entombed in—arms weren’t bound in front like Egyptian mummies but fell around the body, which had given the earlier impression of hugging Trevor. She had been an adult when she died. But without time and someone more qualified to deal with remains, I couldn’t determine anything else.

  Trevor paled more, if possible, before his face took on a sickly green color.

  “Trevor?” I asked him.

  “Oh god.” He rushed for a trashcan left here overnight and hurled his breakfast inside. Possibly dinner last night too, because it kept coming until he did nothing but dry heave.

  I rubbed his back. The first time I’d seen remains up close, I’d been pretty nauseated, too.

  He brushed me away. “Go do your thing. God that’s disguising.”

  “That’s mummification. Not Egyptian mummification, but what happens when—”

  “Dry space over time, I got it.” His face flushed green, and he heaved again.

  “Shit,” Dave interrupted us. “Chelsea, look at that.”

  “What the hell?” Christa chimed in.

  I spun to see what enthralled them so much—and couldn’t breathe. In my rush to glance over the woman’s remains and help Trevor, I’d missed the inside of the wardrobe completely. A reflective surface covered the inside. Tubes like those on life-support machines hung down from the ceiling, but a quick glance above revealed the tubes didn’t run through the wardrobe’s top. “What in the world?”

  I stepped in beside Dave and Christa, and ran my fingers along the inside. It was smooth like plastic but heavy like metal. Restraints for arms, legs, and a torso had been soldered against the back wall. If the woman had been hooked into them, she wouldn’t have fallen.

  A crack caught my eye at the bottom of the chamber. I knelt down and ran a finger along it. Sure enough, it ran deep. I plucked a flashlight from my uniform pocket and flashed it over the crack. Marble showed through from the bottom. It was the floor beneath the wardrobe.

  “I have no idea what this is,” I stammered. Actually, I had a million ideas, all based on sci-fi movies and books and things that shouldn’t exist in real life.

  “Any ideas I have involve aliens,” Dave offered.

  Christa nodded beside me, her eyes running the length of the wardrobe. “Oh yeah. That’s all I got, too.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Trevor. “You should take a look. You and Dave are the only people here who might figure it out.”

  Trevor hobbled over, a hand pressed to his stomach. “Is it that strange—” He froze five feet from us, his hand falling from his stomach to his side. “Ho-ly shit.”

  “Awful lot of that being said today,” I pointed out.

  “What do you think?” asked Christa.

  Trevor pointed to the wardrobe. “I think I agree with Dave. All I got is aliens.” But the way his eyes wouldn’t quite drift from the innards of the wardrobe made me question that. He definitely had an idea. He just wouldn’t voice it. I frowned. Why?

  “We should tell the Captain,” Dave said. “Pronto. Mummified remains and a sci-fi wardrobe is too much to wait.”

  I nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll go back now.”

  “We all should,” Trevor said.

  “No. Someone’s got to stay here with the remains,” I said.

  Dave clapped my shoulder. “Think it’s all you, Chelsea. No one else has the stomach for it.” He winked at Trevor, who flipped him the bird in return.

  “I’ll stay, then.” To Christa I said, “Bring back a science team. Tell them we need a bag, a stretcher, and a way to preserve the remains.”

  She nodded and waved Dave and Trevor to the entrance pool. “Will do. Come on, boys.”

  Trevor groaned. “Sorry, Chelsea.”

  “For what?” I asked. “Not holding your stomach?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t do remains either, Trevor. That’s why I’m in archaeology, not bio-anthropology. Mummies are different, I guess.” My eyes wandered to the remains. Yeah,
it was pretty gross. But nothing oozed or pulsed or anything. It was basically a skeleton. “Just go. It’s cool.”

  He shed a small smile, but it ended on a wince. “Have fun or something.”

  I snorted. “Get out of here.”

  They went, leaving me alone with Mrs. Mummy.

  Trevor

  bsolutely disgusting, that’s what that mummy was. And to discover some advanced tech had housed that thing for thousands of years on top of it? Nothing in this outpost-museum-whatever made any sense. Until I remembered it belonged to the Atlanteans, who had to advance technologically to battle the Lemurians for control of time travel. Then it all started to make sense.

  Dave wasn’t far off in his ‘aliens’ deduction. I guessed the woman had tried to preserve herself in a life stasis chamber or something, a machine that’d keep her alive. But why she felt the need to use it, and why Atlantis had them in the first place, I had no idea.

  My stomach calmed after a stint in the Infirmary, where the on-duty doctor sent me on my way with some anti-nausea pills. I took some and hurried for Chelsea’s office to see if she’d ever returned from the outpost. She sat at her desk, typing away at her keyboard. I knocked on the door frame.

  She looked up and smiled easy. “Hey. Feeling better?”

  My breath hitched. Would I ever get over her smile? God, I hoped not.

  I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

  She leveled me with her stunning hazel eyes. “Most people can’t handle bones. Mummified remains? Yeah, it’s okay to puke.”

  “I know.”

  Chelsea finished her email and swiveled the desk chair my way. “The military archaeologist is flying in tomorrow morning. I can’t wait to show him the remains.”

  I tried to look enthused. “I’m sure he’ll love it.” Although, I couldn’t fathom why.

  She smiled and reached a hand to mine. I took it and interlocked our fingers. Having her hand in mine felt like home, like becoming whole. I ran my thumb in circles over the knuckle on her thumb.

  “I kind of want to go over one last time before he gets here,” she said. “You know. One last adventure on my own in this.”

  “We were all there this morning,” I said. Which was stupid because it didn’t matter to her. She’d live over there if Captain Marks let her.

  “Go with me?” She flashed me wide, hazel eyes. How could I say no?

  “Right now?”

  She bit her lip. “Yeah? Is that okay?”

  I glanced at the clock. 5:36 p.m. Too early to say it was too late. But she was so eager, so enjoying living her dream. Honestly, being over there creeped me out. Not because of the mummy or the weird tech in the wardrobe, but because the more time I spent within the outpost’s walls, the more foreboding the place felt. Like the walls would cave in on only me, drowning me and my Lemurian heritage, reminding me how desperately I needed to find the courage to convince Chelsea to leave SeaSatellite5 for her own safety.

  Instead, I went with, “Sure, why not. Want to grab dinner and eat it there?”

  Coward.

  Her face contorted mischievously. “Think you can stomach eating dinner near the wardrobe?”

  “Hilarious.” I stood. “Yeah. I’ll pick us up some boxes and meet you down there?”

  She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my neck, her breath warm on my face. “Sounds like a plan.”

  I pressed a hand to the small of her back and kissed her. She fell into it, a quick kiss diving deeper, becoming more ferocious as her fingers slid into my hair. The taste of her was intoxicating; her touch lifted weights off my chest, sent my stomach fluttering. I held her to me, not wanting to ever let go. How had she come to mean so much in so little time? Why could I not let her go, even if it meant she’d be safe?

  Her kiss was my air, her body my earth. Grounding me. Keeping me sane and level while lighting a fire inside me; I had no idea it could blaze so bright and wild. It’s like her entire being gave me more purpose in life than I’d felt in all my nineteen years. I pulled her closer, tighter, soaking up her strength and fire and love of life while she still offered it to me.

  She pulled back, breathless, and it nearly killed me. Like someone had dumped water on the only fire keeping me warm.

  “If we keep this up, we won’t make it,” she said.

  I rested my forehead on hers, my cheeks aching from a forced smile. “Then why don’t we pick it up over there?”

  Chelsea grinned and relaxed away from me. “Okay. I’ll grab my pack and meet you in Shuttle Dock in five.”

  “See you there.”

  I watched her go. The find made her happy and—despite what it might mean for me and the war we’re all wrapped in—I’d do anything to keep her in this moment. She’d uncovered evidence of Atlantis, something people had tried to prove for centuries. Something she certainly never intended to discover. It was a career-defining find. But it was also a death sentence, the first shot in a war between our ancestors—ancestors she didn’t even know I had.

  I had to tell her the truth.

  I was running out of time.

  We ate dinner on a tarp that covered the marble floor, underneath lights left by the science team in an unexplored section of the chamber. Chelsea had wanted to see what else was in this area, but we’d gotten sidetracked by dinner and talking.

  “This is the coolest thing to ever happen to me,” Chelsea said. “Even if it might end my career before it starts.”

  “Why would it end your career?”

  She waved at the magnificence of the artifact cache around us. “Even if people took it seriously, this find will rewrite history. People don’t like to do that. And, besides, no one’s going to believe all these artifacts came from one spot. No one’s going to accept it all as evidence of Plato’s lost city. Assuming our guess is correct to begin with.”

  “I think it is.” I knew we sat on Atlantean territory. But I couldn’t tell her why without explaining Lemuria and the war, and, though I knew I had to at some point, the fact this night was going (pretty much) perfectly made me not want to open that can of time traveling worms just now. “For what it’s worth.”

  “Well,” she said, leaning in closer to me, “If you had any sort of background in archaeology or history, I’d believe you.”

  “Wow. So glad my master’s in engineering means so little.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t say that.” Chills ran down my spine as her lips brushed my ear. “Just means you know how to work things.” Her finger trailed a line up my arm. “Fix them. Play them.”

  Her words sent a tidal wave of chills down my spine straight to my dick. I cupped her cheek and drew her lips to mine. She responded instantly, deepening the kiss as her fingers ran through my hair. I wrapped an arm around her and drew her close. Her tongue caressed mine, and I savored her taste, her presence, as if it were the only thing keeping me alive. How had she become everything so quickly? So suddenly?

  I pulled back and searched her eyes for any semblance of what I felt being reciprocated. And I saw it. God, I saw it. It was like her soul peaked through, reached right out and tugged on mine, drawing me in, holding me there.

  I held her face, losing myself and seeing clarity in her eyes all at the same time. So what if she were Atlantean? So what if her parents knew? She wasn’t my enemy. This wasn’t 2,000 BC. This was here and now, and all that mattered was this girl in my arms. I didn’t need more encouragement than that. Fuck this war and everything it stood for. Let Valerie tell Thompson Link Pieces were on board. God help me, I’d make him see reason when it came to Chelsea. She wasn’t a threat, and I was never, ever letting her go.

  She rolled her hips and nipped my lip. It hauled me back into the moment. Blood surged south like a thunderstorm with every thrust, lightning striking everywhere her hands explored and massaged. I rolled us over and hovered over her, drinking in the need in her golden ocean eyes. It pulled me under until I could barely breathe. Who needed to breathe? I needed her, all
of her. She alone was my life preserver and the water tugging me down. As long as I held on tight, as long as I never let her go, I’d surface in time to inhale. In time to be drawn back under. I didn’t need to worry at all as long as she was with me.

  I kissed down her neck, across her collarbone to the bare skin above her tank top, before returning to the soft spot on her neck. She moaned, holding the back of my neck with one hand. I rocked against her and shot out a hand to steady myself.

  Only, I didn’t land on the floor, but on a round, hard object that tumbled under my weight. I fell with it, rolling to not land on Chelsea, and the floor gave out underneath me—just a few inches, dipping me down. Like a pressure plate. Like all those damned Indiana Jones movies.

  I snapped into action, fully expecting a shower of poison darts, and tumbled on top of Chelsea just in case. My body tensed, ready for the hit. But nothing happened.

  “Whoa,” she said. “What was that for?”

  I pointed to the indent in the floor. “Pressure plate.”

  A rumbling sounded near our heads. We both looked up through dust clouds at the shaking walls. A portion of the wall behind us receded until the only thing left was a doorway that wasn’t there before.

  “More secrets?” I asked.

  “It’s a thousand-year-old building. Should we check it out?”

  My Indiana Jones loving heart said no, because secret passageways usually led to death—and because I really wanted to resume what we’d been doing—but Chelsea was already wiggling out from under me. She reached into her pack and withdrew two flashlights and a pair of gloves for each of us. I turned mine on and shone the beam through the doorway. The light bounced off walls and dust, then reflected against something shiny. A whole lot of something shiny.

  “Oh my god,” Chelsea exclaimed. She pushed past me into the room. “Trevor, grab one of those lamps.”