Morgan's Return (23 page)

Ravindra took off the belt before he moved, giving himself time to suck in some recycled submarine air and get the strength back into his legs.

"Okay?" Morgan eyed him, speaking in Manesai.

"I'm fine." Surely she didn't expect him to say anything else.

Eastly was out, reaching for Partridge who looked pale, but able to walk, if a little unsteady. Together, they steered over to the couch, where Eastly lowered Partridge down. "I'll get you tea," he murmured.

Pah. Ravindra shook his head. Eastly spoke to Partridge almost like a lover. He stepped over to Morgan, who had slipped into the captain's chair and started the engines. "How are you going to get us out of here?"

Morgan glanced up at him. "There are propulsion units on the nose and stern for maneuvering. I should be able to rotate the sub around its own centre." She grinned. "Just as well this chamber is flooded. Wouldn't have been able to do that with the walls in the way."

Already the ship was turning, the propulsion jets churning the silt-filled water.

"We're going to have to hope that sea gate hasn't been locked down." Morgan had taken off the helmet and belt, but she dripped water from the suit. A puddle had formed around her chair.

The sub's stabilizers whined, riding the motion of the water. Eastly stumbled over to the console. "Sorry. I can take over." His fingers gripped the back of her chair.

She waved a hand. "No need. Go and look after your mate."

"Look, I'm sorry."

Ravindra felt nothing but contempt. The fool looked as though he was about to burst into tears.

Morgan didn't even look at Eastly. "Yeah. So am I. So I'm sure as shit not going to give you another chance to fuck up. Push off."

Eastly staggered as if he'd been struck, then his brow lowered and his lip set. Morgan had such a way with words.

"Do as she says." Ravindra made the words a command. "She's more than equipped for this task. Best see to your employer."

Eastly gave him a strange look, but returned to the couch.

Ravindra eyed the displays, wishing he had something to do. The walls of the tunnel crowded close to the submarine, a little like a docking bay in a space station. He supposed that was a good analogy, which made him feel a little better. In the sub's lights the sea gate opened a crack.

He leaned over Morgan's shoulder. "Don't. At least, not yet."

She turned her head, flicking strands of wet hair across his cheek, eyebrows raised in question.

"If that creature is still out there…"

"Oh, yes. Forgot about that. So it's going to be, get the gate up and blast out." She chuckled. "I could sure use a torpedo right now."

"Perhaps you could frighten it a little, if it is there."

"I'm listening."

"Turn off the sub's lights. Then as soon as the gate is high enough, turn them on and send a blast of sound. Then power through."

She grinned. "Not just a pretty face, are you?"

He swallowed his elation. It was the nicest thing she'd said to him since they'd fought.

"Strap in, everybody," she said. "This may get bumpy if the local wildlife is still out there."

Ravindra took the navigator's position, and fastened the straps.

On the screen, the sea gate was lifting. Morgan turned on the sub's lights which lanced through the drifting silt and out into the open ocean. Ravindra's muscles tensed. The creature was out there, all jaws, teeth and glittering eyes. The gap wasn't wide enough. A little higher, just a little higher. He held his breath.

His body slammed into the chair back, the walls beside the sub disappeared. He gritted his teeth and prayed the sub's hull could stand the impact. Gods he could see all the way to the fish's stomach. And then all he could see was a swish of a tail.

"Yes!" Morgan leaned over and patted his leg. The lights went off and the sub heeled to port.

"What happened?" asked Eastly.

Morgan grinned at him over her shoulder. "Just gave him an enemy bigger than him. Lights and energy for long enough to frighten him off. We're back to silent running, now."

Eastly and Partridge exchanged a glance. "Let's hope no one noticed the light show," Eastly said.

"You'd rather have been that thing's dinner? Or at best a disabled ship?" Morgan stood. "I've set course for home. Time to get out of this horrible suit." She peeled off the wet diving suit, ignoring the presence of the two men.

Ah, that body. Lovely, full breasts, the nipples still puckered from the cold. Flat stomach, narrow waist, flared hips.

She grinned at him, that mischievous, knowing look that had him feeling like a boy, and reached for her dry clothes. "Aren't you going to dress?"

"Yes." Ravindra stood and began to peel off the suit. Neither of those two idiots had even looked at her. They sat on the couch, both dripping wet, with their arms around each other. Sobbing. He pulled on his pants.

Morgan was already back at the controls. Although she'd probably never left. Her mind rode the ship's systems even as she functioned as a woman. She brought the sub's speed right down, so the ship crawled through the water meters above the bottom.

"We're coming out of the canyon," she said, as if she'd heard his thoughts. "Exercising caution. Whoops."

She stopped the engine and let the ship drift down into the sea grass.

"What are you doing? Partridge is sick." Eastly had hardly said the words when Partridge retched, his body jerking in spasms.

The archaeologist looked terrible, pasty-pale, his wet hair plastered on his head like string, his eyes bloodshot. He retched again, bent over, clutching his stomach. This time, he vomited on his feet. The acrid stink filled the sub's compartment.

"I'm sorry," Partridge whispered.

"Don't worry, you can't help it. I'll clean it up." Eastly busied himself, fetching disposable towels from the living quarters, while Partridge sagged back, his eyes closed.

Ravindra exchanged a look with Morgan.

"He needs a doctor," she said. "But we've attracted some company."

Ravindra recognized the gentle whoosh of a jet propulsion system.

"Oh, shit," muttered Eastly, his face tight with tension. He'd mopped up Partridge's mess as best he could, but the stink still lingered. "If they find us, we're done."

"This is the Trimasi?" Ravindra asked.

"Don't know," Morgan said. "But it looks like they're headed for the canyon, so I think the answer will be yes. I expect they caught a hint of the show when we blasted out of the tunnel."

"Down here? How? They were way out there." Eastly waved his arm vaguely toward the sub's bow.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "I think they might have aerial surveillance around here. Don't you?"

On the screen a vague shape appeared, a shadow in the depths. Another sub. Ravindra's heart picked up a beat. He didn't like feeling helpless, hated the thought of what would happen if this sub was hit by a torpedo. The hull would crumple, the water would rush in, they wouldn't stand a chance. Drowned, or crushed to death, or eaten by one of those monsters. He wished he'd kept the wet suit on. "How close is their temple?" he asked.

"We're just outside their exclusion zone." Morgan pointed at the navigation system, which depicted the intruder as a cylinder. The red line indicating the exclusion zone was beyond the approaching sub—but not by much. "The temple island is about ten klicks away."

"Will they see us?" Eastly's voice quavered.

"That's why I've dropped us to the bottom. Their equipment won't detect us. We'll just have to hope nobody's looking into the sea grass."

"If they come over the top of us, how can they miss?" Eastly had begun to panic, his breathing too fast, his face pale. "Run. We have to run." He jerked to his feet, lunging at the console.

Ravindra grabbed him before he reached Morgan, swung him around and locked an arm across his throat.

"Don't." Morgan rose to her feet, arm stretched out. "You'll kill him."

Even as she said the words, Eastly collapsed like a sack. Ravindra picked him up and sat him on the sofa next to Partridge. "He's not dead, unconscious. He was panicking."

On the screen to starboard, thick stems of sea grass filled the view. Eastly had been right. Anybody passing overhead would surely see the unmistakable shape of the sub.

"I hope not," Morgan murmured in Manesai. "You're wondering if they can see us from above, aren't you? These plants are almost like trees. I tried to tuck the sub in. And we're pretty close to the canyon wall."

The gentle whoosh was louder. Morgan had switched the sensors to infrared. Meters above them the long cylinder approached, warmer than the surrounding water, its engines a brighter glow. Ravindra refused to hold his breath. It was unseemly. On the couch, Eastly stirred, fingering his throat, but he stayed with Partridge. Ravindra flexed his hand. If that idiot tried one more piece of lunacy, he'd be permanently unconscious. Eastly's Adam's apple bobbed. He'd rolled his eyes up, watching the ceiling, so his eye sockets looked mainly white. His breathing was shallow, but even.

The cylinder inched past. Morgan licked her lips.

"Phew." Eastly's sigh of relief broke the long silence. "Looks like they missed us." He looked down at Partridge, stroking the man's face. "We need to get him home. He has medication there."

Morgan had the sub under way, Ravindra felt the subtle tremor through the floor. The long tendrils of sea grass bent with the movement, sliding away from the hull as the vessel pushed forward. Partridge frowned, opened his eyes a crack and made to sit up.

"Keep him down," Ravindra ordered.

Eastly pushed on Partridge's shoulders. "We're going home, Derryn. As fast as we can."

Partridge swallowed several times. "I feel awful."

Without a word, Ravindra pulled a bottle of water out of a compartment and tossed it to Eastly. Useless individual wouldn't have passed boot camp. He went and sat in the navigator's chair, next to Morgan.

"So, my dear. What now?"

Morgan lifted her lips in a half smile. "I was going to ask you that. You know where you came from. Going by the two labs, she was the geneticist, he was the engineer. He must have developed a shift drive to get across the galaxy in super quick time."

"Yes. What happened in the laboratory? That thing that was humming?"

"Who knows? Our lunatic friend pressed a bunch of controls when he fell. I didn't see what, his body was in the way. And then this little model's engine built up power and disappeared. From a standing start. I've never seen anything like it." Morgan's tone had become reflective.

Ravindra's stomach muscles clenched. "Were you planning on going back for another look?"

Morgan's lips jerked as she sighed. "I wouldn't mind a closer look."

"Not with these two idiots."

She laughed, the happiest sound he'd heard from her in days. "You're damn right about that, admiral. Especially pretty boy Eastly. What a plonker."

She had that look in her eye, sexy and delicious. He couldn't wait to get rid of these two and get her to bed.

Chapter 20
 

T
he little boy dangled in the harness, chortling with laughter. "Do it again, Padra, do it again!"

Smiling, Makasa sent the toy ship whizzing around the yard again, low over the bushes, zooming over the pool, tilting down the garden paths, while all the while young Obra crowed with glee, his chubby little hands tight on the crash bars.

Makasa's daughter laid a delicate hand on her father's shoulder. "Father, he'll be sick."

Makasa zoomed the toy fighter around a clump of rushes. "Nonsense. He's loving it. He's a natural born fighter pilot."

Her lips taut with disapproval, she said, "Long before that he'll be a sick little boy. Anyway, I'm to tell you there's a message for you. From work."

His hands faltered on the controls. Work? They knew better than to interrupt him on his day off. "Tell them I'll call later. Who was it?"

"No identification was given. It's apparently important. The person gave a code word." She transferred the data stub from her implant to his.

Biel? Biel was on Ushas, quietly sounding out what was happening there. He wondered if Chang and Cruickshank had arrived there yet?

"Padra, why have we stopped?" Obra's lip stuck out, his huge eyes reproachful. Sensing the lapse in attention, the fighter had landed at its controller's feet.

Shoving the control into his daughter's hands, Makasa had the chair tilt so that he could stand.

"I'll be back soon, my boy. Something I have to do."

He lumbered down a shaded path into the house.

The servant waiting for him inside bowed. "The call is in your study, Your Honor."

Makasa closed the door behind him and instigated maximum security measures, while he pulled out his uniform jacket from the closet and slipped it on over his loose red kaftan. It only took a moment to look the part, even if the collar felt too tight. He certainly wasn't going to put on his uniform pants. Seated in his chair behind the desk, he directed the IS to accept the call.