Breaking Through (12 page)

I have Commander Sickles gather
the rest of the crew as I analyze the scene. The ocean has come alive. Waves rise like fire then come crashing down. Black clouds mingle in the dark sky, illuminated only by the bolts of lightning racing into the angry waters. One strikes dangerously close the ship, and the generator switches off momentarily. Now is not a good time to lose power.

As soon as the power flickers back on, I check the radar. There’s rotation in the skies. If a tornado descends upon us in this weather, Gibson might not have the juice to save us this time. Nautia created this storm, and if history is any indication, she doesn’t know how stop it. We’re going to have to ride it out.

When the rest of my crew arrives, I dole out instructions. Ackley takes the bridge. I send Sickles to the lower decks to check the generator.

“Commander Rogers, wake Gibson. We may need him,” I instruct.

“Shouldn’t we be rousing Nautia instead, sir? She is an aquator,” Rogers says.

“She doesn’t have the ability to take this on,” I reply. So far, it’s the truth, even though I know that deep down she’s got the power. What she creates, she can also destroy.

“With all due respect, sir, Admiral Melene handpicked her because she’s the most powerful aquator in the world,” Rogers pushes.

I rotate to face him. “And with all due respect, Commander, I gave you an order and I expect compliance.”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles, salutes me, and leaves.

True, Admiral Melene had handpicked Nautia for this mission for that very reason, but he’d also seen her file. He’d known her struggles, yet he’d demanded her presence anyway, even after I’d expressed my concerns.

“She’s not ready,” I’d said. “Not for something like this.”

“What other option do you have, Captain?”

“A chemist. Military. They could just as easily get the information and run the tests.”

“Not so, Captain Barton, not so. An aquator is not only beneficial, it’s necessary. And that it’s Nautia Olson is essential. It
has
to be her.”

“Sir—”

“Consider that an order, Barton.”

And now, because of the admiral’s orders, my whole crew is in danger of being swallowed up and taken down to Davy Jones’ locker. Because I sure as hell am not going to blame this on Nautia, not when Melene clearly knew the risks of having her on board. Not to mention Kray warned me about getting physically close to Nautia. I should have known better.

Goddammit!

I shut off all of the engines and switch to manual. It won’t help much, but at least we won’t have blown engines. We’ll end up wherever the storm wants us. We’re fucking sitting ducks out here.

“Captain,” Ivan says, running inside. “We’re all set, but it would be nice to have some extra hands.”

“Get Haskal, Britta, and Kray.”

“Britta, sir?”

“She can earn her keep.”

“What about Nautia and Gibson, sir? We could use everyone out here.”

“Rogers is already rousing Gibson. Leave Nautia,” I instruct.

Ivan opens her mouth, probably to give me the same insubordinate argument Rogers had. I don’t want her opinion; I want her obedience.

“Go!” I shout before she rattles off what I’m not in the mood to hear.

She runs out just as Sickles rushes in. Commander Sickles heads straight for the controls and begins flipping switches.

“Generator’s at full power, sir,” she informs me. “Winds coming out of the east at fifty-seven miles per hour. Gusts at eighty.”

“Keep her facing east,” I say.

“Yes, sir.”

Waves crash into the sides, tipping the
Triton
to one side, then the other. This is no rollercoaster ride, especially when a tornado shoots from the sky not a hundred feet away.

“Incoming!” Ackley yells, and a second too late I realize he’s not talking about the twister.

A wave bigger than the ship engulfs us. I slide across the floor until a wall under the counter stops me. My shoulder hits hard, but with adrenaline racing through my veins, I barely feel it. I scramble out and shoot a glance in Sickles’ direction. She’d seen it coming and apparently held on to whatever she could, so she’s still on the anchored-down stool, watching the computer screens.

“You okay, Captain?” she asks.

“Fantastic. How’s the ship?”

“E-deck is half flooded. Pumps are working at top speed.” She spins to face me. “The wave took out two of our radio towers and one satellite.”

“Any word from Rogers? Does he have Gibson?”

Ackley shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Keep trying,” I say.

“Yes, sir.”

I hear him in the background speaking into his headset. Luckily, that tower hadn’t been affected by the wave. I hear static in mine. Then loud and clear, Ivan’s voice rings into my ear.

“Captain Barton?”

“Go ahead, Ivan.”

“Sir, as soon as the ship righted itself, Kray took off to B Deck to check on Nautia. She’s not in her room, sir.”

“The gym?” I suggest in an effort to keep up appearances.

“Negative.”

Fuck. I don’t need Kray searching the ship for a missing person who’s not really missing. I need his manpower to help make sure this boat doesn’t sink.

Something compels me to look out the glass windows that overlook the main deck. Dressed in a black wet suit, Nautia’s holding on to the railing.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself. Then into the headset, I order, “Get Kray and get back to your stations. I’ve got eyes on her.”

I spin to my other officers. “You good?”

“We’re holding steady at Alert Level Orange.”

“Signal if you need me,” I say and run out.

I fly down the stairs, sliding on my ass over most of them. I grip the railing as the ship lurches to the side. Water rushes over the deck and sprays into my eyes, cutting off my sight of Nautia. When my vision clears, I see her standing at the edge of the ship, arms raised in the air.

I sprint across the deck before another wave pounds into us. As soon as I reach her, I grab her shoulder and spin her around to face me.

“What the fuck are you doing, Nautia? Trying to kill us?”

“I’m trying to save you!” she screams, water or tears streaming down her cheeks.

I grab her hand and clasp it to the railing for support. “Not like this, you can’t.”

“Not like what?”

“This. What you’re doing.”

“I’m controlling the waves,” she shoots back.

“No, you’re not. Don’t you see?” I point out at the water. Waves tumble and fall on each other, building the next one and making it stronger than the last. One crashes down, and the force knocks the ship into another wall of water on the opposite side.

Nautia loses her grip as water gushes over the deck. I seize her wrist and pull her against me before the wave takes her with it.

“Let go of me! I can stop this!” she screams.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her close. “You’re upset, Nautia. You can’t stop this.”

“I have to. Because it’s my fault.”

Rain pelts down on us. The ship rocks. Expecting another wave, I push Nautia’s stomach up against the railing and shield her with my body. The wave comes, rolling into my back and knocking the wind out of me.

When it withdraws, I loosen my grip, but I don’t let go. She tries to wiggle free of me, and as she does, a waterspout jets down from the sky to battle with the other one.

“The only way you can stop this, is if you calm down,” I say, my eyes locking onto the tornado heading straight for us.

She follows my gaze until she sees it too. Then she raises both of her palms toward it. They shake, and I can hear the short bursts of air her lungs emit. Slowly, she closes her eyes.

I watch as the tornado picks up speed and circumference. It’s growing instead of evaporating like Nautia is telling it to. Her whole body begins to convulse. Her face contorts, her eyelids squeezing together in concentration.

“Nautia,” I say, wiping a tear from her face.

Her eyes fly open, and she shakes her head. “I can’t. I can’t stop it.”

She stares, petrified, at the funnel racing toward us. Her lips tremble as a sob escapes her lips. And suddenly I think I understand—the water. Nautia. Her power. Even Nate.

“You can control the water, yet you fear its power,” I say.

She shakes her head in small, quick movements. When she speaks, her voice is low like she’s only now coming to terms with her own realization. “No. I fear my own power.”

I cup her face between my palms. “Don’t focus on you. Focus on that out there. The water will listen to you.”

Nautia shakes her head again as she twists in my arms to face me. “Don’t you see? I did this! This—all of this—it’s inside me. It’s not the water that scares me, Riley…it’s me.”

Riley presses up against me,
bracing the two of us for another crashing wave. I catch sight of the black mass over his shoulder. The thing rises and rises, gaining height in a way I’ve never seen before. It’s like the water is building on top of itself without the aid of gravity to bring it down. When it comes down, I have no doubt it will swallow the ship and everyone on board.

And there’s nothing I can do about it.

I
created
this storm, this monster wave that is going to end the lives of ten people. More if I count those who will suffer at the hands of Yun Ji-jin and his invisible torpedo, because we won’t be able to stop him. The powers I was recruited for are the same ones that damn this mission.

The silver lining is that Riley is with me. Holding me. Protecting me. Shielding me from the damage I’ve made.

Turning away from the twenty-foot wave, I bury my face in Riley’s shoulder. I squeeze my eyes closed and breathe in the scent of his shirt. Even mingled with saltwater and rainwater still pelting down on us, the soapy aroma of his skin seeps through the material. My last memory before the wave consumes us will be how good he smells and the way his body feels next to mine. There are worse ways to die.

Riley’s arms squeeze me tighter as if he too understands we have only seconds left. I don’t know if his eyes are open or not, but if they are, he’s staring down the tornado heading straight for us from the opposite direction of the wave. No matter which hits first, we won’t survive.

“Nautia,” he murmurs, but I don’t look at him. There’s nothing to say, and I have nothing to offer that could change the situation. Instead, I hold my breath, preparing for what’s coming.

“Nautia,” he says again. It takes me moment to figure out that he’s pushing my shoulders back away from him. Still, I refuse to let go of his waist or meet his gaze. “The waterspout. It’s receding. You did it.”

The smile in his voice doesn’t sway me. I shake my head against him. “I didn’t do anything.” I loosen my grip just long enough to point behind him. My guess is that the tsunami has sucked all of the energy from the spout, so I can’t be praised for its deterioration. The wave looming behind us gets that honor.

Riley twists in my arms, his back stiffening. “Oh shit. Nautia, you gotta see this.”

I know what he sees, and I have no desire to face the attacker before it strikes.

“No thanks. I’m good.”

He rotates, and my arms slip off him. Large hands grip my cheeks, and warm breath drifts over my face as Riley’s forehead touches mine. “No, really. You need to see this.”

Lips brush over mine, and my eyes fly open as I jerk away from him. No matter how much I want his kisses, that’s what started this mess.

Raindrops flow down his face, beads of water settling on dark eyelashes. I stare into soft golden irises. There’s no fear, no judgment in them, and I can’t understand why.

“Don’t do that,” I whisper, then swallow because I don’t mean what I say.

“Do what?”

“Kiss me.”

His eyes flit down to my mouth before returning to my gaze. Both of his thumbs roam over my cheeks, and my breath hitches at the intensity of his stare. I can’t do this. I can’t get sucked into him and lose myself again.

Riley moves around me, unblocking the starboard side from my line of sight. From behind me, he tips my head up.

“Look,” he says.

I do, and instantly my mouth goes dry.

“Oh my God,” I gasp out.

Impossible.

I step forward, and as I do, he slips my hand into his, threading out fingers together. The wall of water in front of me is simply standing there. The wave towers over us, water rippling upward, then, I assume, cascading down the backside like a waterfall.

“What’s it doing?” Riley asks when we reach the other side of the deck.

“I—don’t know. Thinking?”

“Does water think?”

I let go of his hand and lean into the railing. I stretch my fingers out toward the wave, even though my arm isn’t long enough to actually touch it.

“Nautia,” Riley warns, but I ignore him. I created this, it came from within me, and, despite my lack of control, I might be the only one with a chance to decipher its intentions.

I readjust myself against the metal barrier and reach out again. I don’t know what I expect. Maybe something similar to the ball of water that had encapsulated me in the infirmary. Will it just let us pass through it?

When nothing happens, I concentrate harder. Focus all my energy in joining with it. The power is inside of me, after all. Plus, isn’t that what Haskal had told me to do? Become one with it?

“Nautia!”

The voice shouting my name doesn’t belong to Riley; it’s Kray. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him running across the deck toward me. I block him out. My gut tells me this wave is waiting for something—something only I can give. I can’t break my concentration.

I clench my teeth and lean out over the ocean as far as I can. From behind me, I vaguely make out Kray screaming at Riley, and Riley barking orders to Kray. More footsteps pound against the deck. The weight of stares digs into my back.

When the wave still doesn’t respond to me, I let out a frustrated groan and grab ahold of the railing again. Riley and Kray seem to have come to some sort of agreement, because they’re no longer shouting. The rain has also stopped. The only thing remaining from my loss of control is the giant wave I’m trying to figure out. Even the moon peeks through the dark clouds now beginning to scatter across the night sky.

“What is she waiting for?” Haskal says, I assume to Kray. Then he yells, “What are you waiting for, Nautia? Bring that fucker down!”

I wish he’d just shut up. I blow out a puff of air to get the loose strands of hair out of my face while shifting my attention off Haskal. I need to think about this. I need to—

Metal screeches, piercing my eardrums. I throw my palms over my ears and squeeze. Tossing a glance over my shoulder, I lock onto Haskal. His arms are extended out to his sides like he’s directing traffic. Like me, everyone else is crumpled over in pain. Haskal is the only one immune to the auditory hell he’s inflicting on the rest of us.

“Haskal!” I shout. “You’re not helping!”

Kray and Riley seem to agree. With I’m-going-to-kill-you expressions, they fly at Haskal.

I don’t watch to see the outcome, because I’m slowly descending. I fling my hands down to grip the railing for balance, cringing from the sound still ripping through air. Chancing a look at the wave, I notice the water has gone darker and is rushing faster uphill. It’s no longer silently contemplating its next move. No. Now we’ve pissed it off.

Thanks, Haskal.

The railing suddenly shoots downward, jolting me. I wrap my arms around the pole, which makes no sense. If the railing falls into the ocean, I’ll go with it. Still, I hang on like it’s my lifeline. Smaller waves now nip up from below, rolling into the side of the ship. I stare, and it takes me a second to notice I’m lying horizontal over the sea. If I crawl out just a little farther, I might be able to touch the wave. Was this Haskal’s plan?

I don’t ponder the thought. If the wave has made its decision and is building itself up to swallow us, I have to move fast. The awful sound of metal against metal is gone now, and the railing seems to be holding my weight. I work up to my hands and knees, carefully placing them so I don’t accidentally slip off.

Arguing ensues on deck again. Riley’s voice is louder than the rest, shouting something about my safety and Haskal’s irresponsibility as part of the team. I push the voices out of my head and creep forward until I’m at the edge. I wrap my ankles around one of the poles and my stomach hangs half off. Cautiously, I extend an arm out. My fingers stretch toward the wave.

“It’s okay,” I say, like I’m comforting this massive beast. Soothing it, talking it down. I have no clue what to do other than hope it understands me.

The rushing water slows, now moving northward in lesser ripples. The movement reminds me of a heartbeat. Now though, it’s calm and curious, patient as it studies me.

I clamp down on my lip and elongate my torso a little farther. A small funnel forms inside the wall, directly in front of my fingertips. I fight the urge to jerk my hand back. I need this thing to trust me, and intuition tells me I need to trust
it
first.

So I don’t move. I’m as far as I can go. The water will have to come to me.

The funnel swirls, but unlike a whirlpool, it doesn’t suck inward. It just rotates like a wheel. The crew must see what I see, because they’ve all gone eerily quiet.

The thought that this wall of water is somehow protecting me crosses my mind. With just the two of us, the wave is serene. Maybe it only got pissed off because Haskal seemed to be threatening my life when he bent the railing?

Slowly, the funnel begins to protrude, reaching toward my outstretched fingers. Energy courses through me, flowing all the way to my fingertips. My body seems to understand something I don’t. My insides burn with familiar rushes that typically end with me passed out.

The tip of the water touches my fingernail. I still don’t move, allowing the water to explore me first. A cord snakes over my index finger and coils around my wrist. Another follows, spiraling around in the gaps left by the first.

One yank, and the wave could pull me into itself. The end.

Calm down. Relax. Slow your heart rate.

As the mantra soothes my nerves, I force the doubt away. The energy inside me builds with each ring the water makes around my arm. The pit of my stomach aches, but it’s not fear I detect now. No, it’s strength. It’s—

Power.

Except I don’t know whose power is in charge here—the wave’s or mine?

Cold streams slither up my shoulder, around my neck, and down my other arm before they stop. The chill of the water causes goose bumps to form over my skin, but I don’t shiver.

The lines just sit there for a few moments before they begin their retreat, recoiling the same the way they came. As they do, the energy in my bones reverberates within me. Vibrations buzz in my ears, and the outline of the wave becomes blurry.

Then my body begins to shake.

“Nautia!” Kray shouts. “Calm down. Relax. Slow your heart rate.”

His voice is fuzzy to me. Ineptly, I know what he must be thinking. He’s been around me long enough to understand what my reaction means. But he’s wrong this time.

Pressure swells in my veins. Building until it’s too heavy to contain.

And I explode.

Power surges through me, and I’ve never been more alive. The whirlpool disappears, and the wall of water begins to flow upward in rapid movements, matching my energy. Each molecule lights up like glitter before my eyes. Streams race to the crest, encouraging me to rise with them.

I pull back onto the railing and grip the outermost pole. Then I slide my knees up to my chest, trusting the air around me to keep me balanced.

“Nautia, what are you doing?” Riley yells.

“Nautia, don’t do it,” Kray follows.

I widen my arms and position the balls of my feet between my hands. I’m not a gymnast, but the water won’t let me fall. We trust each other. I let go of the railing and slowly stand until I’m facing the wall, eye to eye.

God, this is amazing!

“Shit, Nautia. Don’t move. I’m coming to get you,” Riley says.

I don’t bother answering. He can come out if he wants to. This will all be over by the time he reaches me anyway.

Energy floods my system, not letting up. I push both hands out in front of me. Circle one around my head—

And I sweep both across my body. Power pulses out of me, and the wall of water obeys the command. Like a building imploding, the water rolls into itself from the top and dives deep under the surface.
USS Triton
doesn’t even sway in the few seconds it takes for the wall to diminish.

When it’s gone, arms wrap around my waist from behind, and I sink into Riley’s embrace. He lowers the two of us down to the railing, cradling me against his chest.

“Stay with me,” he says. “No passing out.”

“I’m okay,” I murmur. “I’m just tired.”

He nuzzles my neck. “You’ve had quite the day. But you did it, Nautia. You saved us.”

I peer out over the ocean. Moonlight reflects off tiny ripples of water, the only remnants of the storm I created. The air above, the sea below, all is now calm. Quiet.
Content.

All is content, except for me.

I shake my head. “Fixing my own mistake doesn’t count as saving anyone.”