A series of letters and numbers.
He punched them in and held his breath.
Invalid, the screen told him.
He picked out another key and typed in a different string.
Again, Invalid.
He typed the letters and numbers on the inside of the third key and held his breath.
Accepted.
He started to let out a whoop and then clamped his mouth shut, smothering his little celebration.
He tapped out a message to be sent to the other sub, warning its crew about what was waiting for them at the base and briefly explaining who he was and why he wouldn’t be around to continue communication. He had the message encrypted and then sent. He waited to get the confirmation that it was received and let out a short breath of relief, and then put the mask back on and rose from the console chair.
When he opened the door, the sounds of the brawling raiders had faded to a few grunts, thwacks, and more than a couple of snores. With his heart thumping, he went around the corner, again pitching around unsteadily. There were fewer raiders than before, and the ones who remained and were still conscious didn’t look to have much fight left in them.
“Heyyy,” one of them slurred from where he sat against the wall, his legs splayed out in front of him. “Hey, do I know you? What’s your naaame?”
It was time to give up the charade. Ballard stepped over a couple of snoring raiders and skirted around one who was lying flat on his back, turning his hand to look at his bloodied knuckles as if they held the deepest secrets of the sea.
“Heyyy!” the raider called after him. “I’m talking to youuu!”
Ballard scooped up the dagger he’d tossed earlier. Without looking back, he pushed his tired legs into a sprint and raced into the safety of the sub’s maze of corridors. When he was sure no one had followed, he stopped for a moment to get his bearings. Making his way to the nearest crew locker room, he found three canteens and strapped them over his shoulder, holding them as he jogged so they wouldn’t clank. Then he headed for the galley.
It was dark and there were utensils and cookware strewn across the counters and floor, evidence that the raiders had already been here. Ballard righted an overturned stepladder, carried it to the far end of the galley, and placed it under one of the tall cupboards that reached up to the ceiling. On the top shelf, he found a bin of vacuum-sealed dried fish and sea vegetables. He pulled out the entire bin and carried it under one arm so he could hold a pistol in the other hand.
By the time he got back to the torpedo room, his head was throbbing from his little bout with the raiders, and he was so tired he was practically seeing double. The cut on his calf where Maynard had shot him had transitioned from a deep itch to throbbing pain, and the rest of his skin had become uncomfortably dry and tight.
He tapped on the torpedo room door with the pistol. “Talia,” he called softly. He pulled off his face mask so she’d be able to recognize him instantly.
A few seconds ticked by in silence. He was just about ready to set down the food bin and try the door, dread already welling darkly in the center of his chest. If the raiders had somehow gotten to Talia while he was gone . . .
But then he heard the soft clanks of the torpedo tracks getting moved, and soon after, the door opened and Talia’s face appeared.
Relief rushed through him, temporarily dulling his various aches and pains, and his face relaxed into a tired smile.
She started to return his smile, and then it dissolved into a concerned frown. She opened the door wider and reached out to pull him inside. “What happened?” She closed the door behind him.
Not waiting for his answer, she and Janelle began moving the makeshift barricade back in place.
Ballard put the food bin on the floor and helped them set the metal track braces across the whole assembly.
Some of the women looked up with bleary eyes from where they’d fallen asleep on the floor or in the torpedo cradles.
When the barricade was secure, Talia turned to him. He pulled off the smelly black shirt and dropped it next to the door. She reached up and took his face between her hands. He couldn’t help a glance down at her lips. “What happened?” she repeated, whispering. “Are you all right?”
She let go of his face and stepped back to scan the rest of his body. She touched a tender spot on his ribs, and he winced, but he didn’t bother to look down at one of the many places his body had been pummeled by a fist. Or kicked. Or stepped on. He couldn’t keep his wounds straight anymore.
He took her hand, which was cold to the touch. “I’m okay,” he said. “I sent a message to the other sub, I just hope it will be enough.”
Janelle came to stand near them. “So now we just have to wait for them to show up?”
He nodded, swaying a little with fatigue.
Janelle nodded. “Good work, soldier.” She yawned against the back of her hand. “If there’s nothing more to do now, I’m going to sleep.” She went back to her bed in one of the torpedo cradles.
Talia was still looking at the fresh bruises on his torso and face. “Did you have to go through an elephant stampede to get there?”
“Just about,” he said. “I ran into some drunk raiders and had to briefly join their brawl.”
She covered her mouth with one hand to stifle a laugh. When she took her hand away, her lips were still stretched into a faint grin. “I’m so sorry you got hurt, but I really wish I could have seen that.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said again. “I brought food and water.” He gestured to the bin, partly hoping to distract her from his injuries.
They started passing packets of fish jerky and canteens to the few women who were awake.
“Your leg,” Talia said. “It looks like it might be getting infected.”
When he turned around, she was squinting at the tear on his calf from Maynard’s shot. She was right, it was starting to look swollen and irritated.
“Can you roll up your diving pants and at least wash it off?” Talia knelt and reached for his ankle.
He quickly moved away and bent to grab a canteen. “Uh, I think if I reconstitute some seaweed from one of these packets and make a sort of mask over the cut, it’ll help.”
She tilted her head to look up at him and regarded him for a moment, then shrugged. “That’s probably a good idea. We don’t have much here to work with, not even a first aid kit.”
He opened one edge of a plastic package of freeze-dried seaweed and held it open so she could pour in a bit of water.
“Are you sure you don’t want to roll your pants up to clean it better?” She arched an eyebrow at him.
“Nah, that’s okay.” She didn’t yet know that he and the other men weren’t wearing diving pants, as she seemed to think, and he didn’t think this was the time to get into that. He layered some wet seaweed over the cut and instantly the pain dulled a little.
She went over to the light switch and extinguished the light. In the dark, he felt her hand against his arm, and her fingers slid down to find his.
She pulled at his hand, and he followed her for a few steps. “Watch your head,” she whispered, and guided his hand to a soft surface.
“Thank you for saving a spot for me,” he said, gratefully sinking to the thin mattress.
“Oh, it’s not your spot. It’s mine. I’m just sharing it with you.” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. “I’m, um . . .not trying to seduce you. What happened before, that was . . . out of character. For me, at least.”
He felt her hesitating. His lips twitched in a smile that she couldn’t see. “You could have fooled me.”
He turned on his side to make room, and she settled next to him, her back to his chest. He wanted to reach out and pull her close, but after what she’d just said, he wasn’t sure it would be a welcome gesture. With his head heavy and throbbing, sleep soon claimed him.
When he woke later, he was on his back with his arm around Talia. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder. He
listened to the quiet rhythm of her breathing for a few moments, and then curled his arm around her more firmly. She nestled closer with a soft sigh that Ballard echoed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt as content as he did right now. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt this peaceful. He let sleep pull him under again.
The next time he woke, it was to the sound of someone pounding on the torpedo room door.
A SHARP noise tore Talia from sleep. Her eyelids sprang open, her heart jolting and then racing away like a spooked horse. A heavy fist banged the door again. She sat up and smacked her head. Wincing, she swung her feet to the floor and felt her way to the wall.
She felt Ballard rise and brush past her.
“What’s going on?” Janelle’s groggy voice came through the dark.
Talia fumbled for the light and switched it on. She felt completely disoriented. The torpedo room was narrow and claustrophobic, and she had absolutely no idea how long she’d been sleep. She glanced at her watch as Ballard leaned against the door, listening. They’d been asleep for nearly four hours. She blinked hard and inhaled sharply, trying to cut through the fog of deep sleep.
“Who is it?” she whispered to Ballard and then immediately felt foolish. How could he know who it was?
He darted a glance at her, but remained silent.
“Ballard! We know you’re in there with the girls. We’ve literally checked the entire sub. Open up!” More banging.
Ballard’s shoulders seemed to lose some tension. He turned to Talia. “That’s my Captain.”
“Open up, Ballard, that’s an order!”
He pulled something from his belt—some sort of handgun—and tossed it to Talia. “Just in case,” he said, too low for the other women to hear.
She looked down at the gun. It was slim and made of polished stainless steel, and it felt lighter than it looked in her hands. She unzipped her jumpsuit partway, tucked it into the back of her waistband, and pulled up her sarong to cover it, just in case the guards decided they didn’t want the women wearing jumpsuits. Thank goodness she hadn’t let Janelle talk her out of wearing that sarong. It had come in extremely handy for concealing all manner of useful things.
Ballard began dismantling the barricade. Talia moved back, standing protectively in front of the girls, her heart thumping.
“The other sub must have gotten Ballard’s message,” she whispered to Janelle. “I hope, anyway.”
“You think this is really going to improve our situation?” Janelle asked. She glanced at the door and raised her eyebrows, her expression doubtful.
That was a very good question. “I guess we’re going to find out.”
Ballard pushed the lever handle down, and the door flung open, someone outside obviously impatient to get in.
Captain Rogers stood there with Nielson, Maynard, and Gentry, and three other men Talia didn’t recognize. All held long slender rifles.
“Nice little gathering you have here,” Nielson said, leering at the women.
Gentry smirked. “Aren’t you a lucky bastard, all cooped up in here with them. You arrange that on purpose?”
“Quiet!” the captain barked. He nodded at Nielson, who was holding something that made a soft metallic jingle when he shifted his hands. “Ballard goes into the brig until we figure out what the hell happened.”
Talia’s stomach seemed to free-fall. The brig? Wasn’t that military for jail? She shook her head. Didn’t these idiots realize Ballard had saved them?
She stepped up next to Ballard. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the one who contacted the other sub to warn them about the pirates!”
“We’re aware of Sergeant Ballard’s communications. But there are questions about why he was the only one who eluded capture, and how he was able to send the message at all.” Captain Rogers said, then narrowed his eyes and gave Ballard a suspicious once-over. He cast a hard look at Talia before turning on his heel and starting off down the hallway.
Questions . . . Talia shook her head again and clenched her jaw, clamping down on the string of protests she wanted to hurl at the captain’s retreating back. Ballard had eluded the ambush because he’d been with her. Not because he had any association with the pirates. But trying to convince anyone of that probably wasn’t going to help much.
As she watched Nielson snap handcuffs around Ballard’s wrists, guilt flashed through her. It was her fault he was under suspicion. But if she and Ballard hadn’t, well . . . fooled around in the infirmary, they’d all be in the hands of the pirates right now.
Nielson stepped back, clearly just there to oversee things, and Maynard and Gentry pushed Ballard out of the way. Gentry’s hand clamped around Talia’s wrist, and he pulled her forward. She bent her elbow to twist her arm down and out of his overhand grip. It was a move she’d learned in self-defense class, and she felt a twinge of satisfaction at pulling away so easily.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, her skin crawling from his contact.
Gentry held his hands up in mock fear. “Okay, okay. Please, don’t hurt me again,” he said in a high-pitched voice, a mocking reference to when she’d kicked him.
The other men snickered and went into the torpedo room to hurry the rest of the women out and check the space before closing the door.
Janelle moved to walk beside Talia as the men herded them down the hallway. “God, what now?” Janelle said. “At least they haven’t tied us up again.”
Talia shook her head. “We’re at some kind of base, and, um . . .”
Janelle gave her an apprehensive look. “What?”
They’d moved into the middle of the group, putting some distance between them and the men leading them, but not getting too close to the two who were bringing up the rear and brandishing their rifles.
Talia leaned close to Janelle. “Ballard told me they brought us here for our eggs.”
Her friend’s nose and forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Eggs?”
“Our ova.” Talia pointed at her lower abdomen and circled her finger around. “The things that turn into babies.”
“What?” Janelle screeched.
“Shh!” Talia clutched her friend’s arm. “We’re not supposed to know.”
“That’s just . . .” Janelle shuddered. “Why would they need our eggs? Is this some kind of black market thing, like organ harvesting?”
“Um . . . something like that.” Talia couldn’t possibly explain everything she’d learned from Ballard. She wasn’t even sure she really understood all that he’d told her.
“So they’re going to suck out our eggs, and then what? Throw us out with the trash? Turn us into sex slaves?” Pink splotches sprang to Janelle’s cheeks, and she’d started to breathe more rapidly.
“Try to stay calm,” Talia said. She wrapped her arm around Janelle’s shoulders and pulled her close in a side-hug. “Ballard thought they were supposed to take us back where they found us. Now he’s not totally sure what they have planned. But we’ll find a way to get out of here.”
Janelle gave her friend a doubtful look, tears pooling in her lower lids.
“We just have to keep it together and find the right opportunity. Ballard going to help us.”
“But they’re taking him away in handcuffs. How the hell is he going to help us?”
“Hey.” Talia waited for her friend to make eye contact. “I am not going to let us die down here. I promise.”
Talia’s stomach was twisting itself around, and inside she felt the way Janelle looked. But Talia wasn’t going to give up, and she couldn’t let Janelle lose hope either. Talia waited until Janelle nodded, and then gave her another squeeze.
Ahead of them, Ballard stumbled and nearly went sprawling, barely catching his balance when he pitched into Gentry.
Something fell to the floor. Talia’s heart seemed to skip. It was the rings Ballard had used to unlock doors—the keys. Whether he meant for Talia to see them, or he simply wanted to dump them before he was searched and caught with them, s
he didn’t know. While Gentry was shoving Ballard back into line with an irritated curse, Talia pretended to trip, bumped into the girls ahead of her, and dropped to her hands and knees and snatched the keys. She quickly pulled her hand up into her sleeve, the keys gripped tightly in her fist.
She straightened with a sheepish look at the two women in front of her. “Sorry about that.”
Ballard threw a furtive glance over his shoulder at the floor where the keys had been, and then his eyes found hers. She nearly flashed him a conspiratorial grin when she realized that someone else was looking back at her, too. Maynard gave her a calculating stare but then faced forward without a word.
Talia tried to calm her pulse with a couple of deep breaths. If Maynard had seen her pick up the keys, surely he would have said something. She squeezed the keys again. They might be even more valuable than the knife that Ballard had passed to her when they were in the dome.
Janelle was slanting a look at Talia’s sleeve.
“We will get out.” Talia mouthed.
Not sure if Janelle had seen the keys, Talia did see her friend draw a long breath, set her mouth in a determined line. Talia felt the shift in Janelle’s energy, and something in her eased a little, too.
But when the guards marched them off the sub—well, forced them up the ladder and through a hatch—and then steered Ballard away, Talia’s courage faltered. She had the keys and a knife, but she wasn’t kidding herself that she could do this alone. She needed Ballard.
She wrapped her forearms around her stomach, hugging herself. If Ballard’s superiors didn’t believe him, it might be up to her to get him out of jail. She allowed herself one more glance back, and watched Ballard disappear around a corner.
“What is this place?” Janelle whispered.
Talia looked up, really taking in their surroundings. She’d expected another sort of submarine, or maybe something like the dome they’d been in before. But this wasn’t like either one. She tilted her head back. They’d entered a room with a vaulted ceiling and wood floors. It was dingy and the smell of mildew was almost overwhelming, but it actually looked like some sort of boat deck. Except for the moldy smell, she could almost imagine that they weren’t deep in the ocean. A cheap hotel in Las Vegas, or. . . a cruise ship?
The Seas of Time (A Love Across Stars Series Novel) Page 11