COMPETE: The Atlantis Grail (Book Two) - Preview

CHAPTER SEVEN (draft)

CHAPTER SEVEN

I am awoken by the bright shipboard daylight alarm, and it's five minutes after 7:00 AM. That's how long it took my unconscious sleeping mind to surface out of a jumbled nightmare dream filled with dead bodies and subterranean water-filled tunnels into the present reality.

Today is the first day of the rest of my new life.

And yes, incidentally, I am flying through effing outer space, somewhere far beyond Mars, among the rushing debris of the Asteroid Belt, and on approach toward Jupiter. . . .

Of course the debris are not really rushing anywhere. They range in size from microscopic dust to planetoids, and there are huge distances between them, so it's not like we're in danger of hitting anything, but still . . . Jupiter!

Last night I got back to sleep really late, after having written approximately five pages of lousy and haphazard notes and narrative that needs to be reworked later, but for now, it's raw and freshly spewed from my mind. And it's something.

If I remember correctly, I didn't stop writing until close to 2:15 AM, when the ship's computer voice intruded into my feverish flow of thoughts, breaking my concentration.

"Now entering the Main Asteroid Belt region," the machine voice announced. Which meant, we're officially out of the rocky inner planets region of the solar system, and on our way toward the gas giants.

Talk about a strange way to fall asleep. . . .

Now, I force myself to get up, shower in the pressurized water-mist stall cubicle, get dressed and step outside the door into the ship corridor, with half an hour to spare before my 8:00 AM morning duties begin at the CCO.

The Officers Meal Hall is the only one I know. So I go there by default, grab breakfast, and eat very quietly in the corner, recognizing no Atlanteans. The officers also eat in a hurry, unlike yesterday's easygoing lunch. This morning they all appear strictly business, with little conversation. I suppose today the routine begins for real, and they all have a boatload of tasks, including our various training classes. . . .

I arrive at the wide Command Deck corridor, just before 8:00 AM, and stop at the guarded doors of the Central Command Office. Already, my heart is pounding like a drum in anticipation of seeing him—Command Pilot Kassiopei.

"I am Gwen Lark, Aide to the CCO," I say awkwardly.

The guards let me by without a word.

I enter the office, and there is no one there. There's no sign of Aeson Kassiopei, and Gennio Rukkat is not here either, even though I'd assumed he might be here this morning.

As I stand there, at a loss, I hear a strange scraping sound coming from the floor behind the large desk. Then there's a cough and a grunt, and something that sounds like hard cussing in Atlantean.

I take a step forward. "Hello?"

Someone emerges from underneath the Command Pilot's desk. It's another older teen, medium-height, wiry and slim, with Caucasian-pale skin and freckles. I am willing to bet anything that his long hair, gathered in a segmented ponytail, is bright red underneath that gilded dye. His face is long and lean, and his expression is supremely annoyed. His armband is red, to match his temper.

"What?" he says is a deep voice, speaking decent unaccented English. "Who let you in here? Are you a Cadet? Who are you? Wait, no—are you the new Earth Aide?"

"Yes, I'm Gwen Lark. And you are?"

The Atlantean makes a grimace. "Oh, for crap's sake, I have no time for this." And then he climbs back down underneath the desk.