Seabound (Seabound Chronicles Book 1) (27 page)

“Fine.”

The woman sprang
into motion, and Esther stepped back just enough to let her take the helm. The
Lucinda
had drifted even closer to the water ship, but the captain turned the wheel
hard and throttled the engines, and the ship sped past the hull. The
Lucinda
really was fast.

They cleared the
water ship, and for a moment all Esther could see was pure blue water and the
broad afternoon sky.

Then a shout came up
from the portside. “It’s the destroyer!”

Chapter 26—Pursuit

The destroyer came out
of
nowhere, cutting toward the
Lucinda
like a hulking gray hurricane. She
was big—five hundred feet of crisp steel topped with a bulbous radar
tower—and she was fast.

“She’s supposed to
be on the other side of the
Flotilla
,”
David said. “I checked this morning.”

“Someone must have
reported us,” Neal said, his face ashen.

“We can’t let her
get too close. Come on, faster!” Esther shouted, slamming a fist down on the
control console. The destroyer would cut them off before they could even get up
to thirty knots.

The captain,
seeing everyone was distracted, wasted no time. She killed the engine, turned
the wheel hard, and dug her heel into Esther’s foot. The ship lurched. Chaos
erupted on the bridge as everyone fell sideways. David stumbled, losing his
grip on the captain. Pain shot through Esther’s foot as her stitches finally
ripped open. She dropped to the floor, pulling the captain down with her. She
tried to flatten the larger woman beneath her while David grabbed the wheel.

Neal regained his
footing and pulled one earphone down. “The destroyer’s on the radio, Esther.
They know what we’re trying to do.”

Esther struggled,
barely maintaining her grip on the captain. Blood from her reopened cut was
filling her shoe.

“Talking won’t
help now. Neal, take this one down and throw her overboard. She’s too much of a
liability.”

The captain
protested. Neal flagged Raymond to help him. They took the captain’s arms and
dragged her out of the pilothouse, not letting her feet find the deck. Seconds
later, Esther heard another litany of curses—and a splash.

“It’s up to you
now, David,” she said, getting to her feet. “Hurry it up, will you?”

David nodded. His
fingers flew across the control panel, and soon the engines had chugged to life
again. “Let’s see what this lady can do.” David leaned over the wheel, eyes
intent on the destroyer.

The warship had
made up a lot of distance already and was nearly upon them. Its deck was alive
with activity, and a huge gun in the bow stood out in sharp relief against the
sky. “That’s a four and a half inch Mark 8,” David said. “All the Type 45s have
’em.”

“You reckon it’s
loaded?” Esther said.

“It’s loaded. The
Hampton
doesn’t have any missiles left,
though, so that’s something.”

The distance
between the ships shrank. David sailed straight, speeding toward the narrowing
gap that was their only hope of escaping the
Flotilla
. They weren’t going to make it. The destroyer was too
fast.

“Whatever you do,
don’t stop moving,” Esther said. Then she picked up the microphone Neal had
abandoned, flicked the switch on the control panel, and shouted into the radio.
“You on the destroyer! Can you hear me?”

A moment of
silence. Then: “Copy. This is the HMS
Hampton
.”

“This is
Lucinda
.
We have captives aboard. Hold your fire.”

“
Lucinda
,
by order of the
Galaxy
captains you are to cut your engines
immediately.”

“We’ll kill the
captives if you don’t give us safe passage out of here,” Esther said.

The radio was
silent for a moment. Then a new voice came on the air: “Permission to allow
casualties has been granted. Turn back or we will fire.”

Rust.
“Repeat:
we have captives aboard . . . and a missile aimed at the deck of the
destroyer.”

David glanced at
her.

“Repeat:
permission to allow casualties has been granted. Turn back.”

Esther gripped the
edge of the console so hard her fingers ached. They were still picking up
speed, but not fast enough.

“What are your
terms?” she asked.

“This is not a
negotiation,” said the voice on the radio.

David waved at her
and mouthed, “
It’s Boris
.”
For the first time, he looked nervous.

Esther thought
fast. “Yes, it is a negotiation. I have friends on the
Flotilla
, and they’re watching us. If you refuse to negotiate, they
will tell everyone you gunned down
Galaxy
civilians. Panic will spread through the ships.”

They waited a
heartbeat. Then Boris’s cold voice said, “You mean friends like Paris Morgan?”

Esther threw the
microphone back onto the console. “Fuck!”
Not
Paris.
How had they found out? She should have tossed Connor off the
highest deck when she had the chance.

David’s face was
ashen. “Esther, if we slow down . . .”

“I know.” She
clenched her fists.
Think, Esther, think!

She picked up the
radio again. “I demand safe passage to the
Hampton
.
We can discuss terms aboard the destroyer, or you can explain to the
Galaxy
community why you allowed twenty captives to be killed and your precious
destroyer damaged by your own weapons. You can’t hide this.”

The voice was
silent for a moment. “Permission to negotiate granted. We’ll send a boat for
you.”

“Good,” Esther
said. “And I want to see Paris Morgan on that boat too, so I know he’s safe.
Otherwise, no deal, and we fire on the destroyer in full view of the
Flotilla
.”

“Agreed.” There
was an odd note to Boris’s voice. He did not sound worried. Not at all. “We’re
sending a boat. Morgan will be aboard. Maintain your position.”

“Copy.” Esther
turned off the radio and tossed the headset onto the console.

“You can’t go over
there,” David said. “They won’t negotiate, no matter what Boris says.”

Esther nodded.
“I’m not a moron,” she said. “I won’t set foot on that boat. I have a plan.
Now, watch the speedboat. We’re going to send it back toward the destroyer to
obstruct their path. The second I tell you, jet around the stern of the
destroyer with everything you’ve got. You ready?”

“Yes, ma’am,”
David said, slowing the ship.

“Good.” Esther
ducked out of the pilothouse and beckoned to Zoe and the two sisters, Eva and
Anita. “We’re about to move, as soon as we get Paris on board. Get everyone off
the deck the moment we accelerate, but
not
before. We have to act normal for as long as possible.”

“Understood,” Zoe
said. Her eyes had a wild light behind them.

Eva and Anita
nodded too, faces pale.

Esther returned to
the pilothouse and studied the looming destroyer. They should be bringing Paris
out any second. He may not want to leave the
Galaxy
, but he had no choice now. A small speedboat was descending
on cables, but she couldn’t tell for sure whether Paris was inside. The deck of
the destroyer was too tall. Still, if they timed it right, this just might
work. The boat lurched as someone let one cable unwind too quickly. Esther felt
the
Lucinda
shift subtly. That was good. Soon they were drifting around
to face aft of the destroyer.

Esther waved up at
it, not sure who was watching. “Hand me those binoculars, will you?”

The speedboat sank
lower. The
Lucinda
drifted farther aft. Esther still couldn’t tell who
was actually in the speedboat. It drifted lower still.

“Wait, Esther,”
David said urgently. “Look at the deck of the
Hampton
.”

She swept the
binoculars back up, the circle of vision blurring. A chilling sight came into
focus. Captain Boris was leaning over the railing of the destroyer, thirty feet
above the water, his hand wrapped tightly in Paris’s silver curls. Paris’s nose
was bleeding heavily. Another man held onto his arms, forcing him closer to the
railing, to the drop.

“No,” Esther
whispered. “He’s not on the speedboat, he’s . . .”

Then Boris smiled
and pushed Paris over the edge.

The fall only
lasted a few seconds, but Esther could see Paris in sharp relief, his curls
ruffling in the breeze as he flew downward. He landed headfirst in the
speedboat. The impact sent it swinging against the hull. They were too far away
to hear it, but Esther imagined the sickening crunch.

“No!” she
screamed.

Then everything
happened in slow motion. Esther felt a roaring in her ears. A wave of shock,
like the worst storm swells she’d ever experienced, threatened to crush her
into the deck. She couldn’t process it. She switched to autopilot. They had to
get out now.

“Go, David, we
have to move!”

He didn’t hesitate.
Lucinda
sprung to life with a roar. Esther darted out of the pilothouse.

“Incoming!” she
shrieked.

The
Lucinda
streaked toward the stern of the
destroyer. Esther dashed to the portside rail, the wind on her face. She should
be below. She was exposed. But she had to see. There was a shout from above,
and the speedboat dropped the rest of the way from the destroyer into the water
with a splash, still attached to the cables. The outline of a crumpled figure
was just visible across a bench. There was no way Paris survived that fall.

The speedboat
dragged as the destroyer tried to react to the
Lucinda
’s escape. The
Hampton
couldn’t move fast enough.
Lucinda
scraped around the stern, nearly
tangling with the destroyer’s propeller at the last moment, but her draft was
shallow and she cleared the turn. More shouting and cursing filled the air. The
destroyer groaned, trying to turn its bulky weight toward the smaller ship.
Lucinda
danced free.

Esther saw the
sky, laced with purple clouds. The horizon was a blurred charcoal line in the
distance. A shiver passed through the
Lucinda
. They were speeding
through the water, away from the
Galaxy
Flotilla
, toward the open ocean. The
spray drenched Esther’s clothes. She felt the wild joy of the sea for a moment,
delirious in her grief for Paris. He didn’t deserve this.

Then the first
shell exploded beside them. Another. Esther’s ears rang, jolting her back to
her senses.

Shells from the
Mark 8 shrieked through the air, and splashes erupted all around them.
Machine-gun fire ripped across the ship, tearing through steel and ringing
against iron. Esther hit the deck and crawled. She couldn’t see anyone else.
They had listened to her instructions and gotten out of sight. If anyone
screamed, the shells ate the sound. The stinging smell of sulfur and melted
metal engulfed her.

The destroyer
rained shells down on them, but she hadn’t reached full speed. The
Lucinda
ran for her life. As they got farther away, the shots became less accurate.
Esther imagined the chaos on the destroyer. That ship didn’t use its weapons
often. It was out of missiles. That had to be why the
Lucinda
hadn’t suffered a direct hit. Yet.

Esther reached the
hatch and climbed inside, finding Dax and some of the crew below. It was dark
in the passageway and smelled of fear and sweat.

“Status,” she
barked.

“Still afloat. The
kids are safe in the hold,” Dax said. He was leaning against the wall of the
passageway, arms clutched around a stage gun as if it were a teddy bear. Two
women Esther didn’t know, probably the wives of oil workers, crouched on the
floor. “Is Paris . . . ?”

“Injuries?” Esther
barked. The
Lucinda
shuddered as another shell landed all too close. One
of the women shrieked.

“An oilman got hit
in the leg. He should pull through.”

“The captain?”

“We’re sailing
straight, so Hawthorne’s probably alive,” Dax said.

Esther nodded.
Breathed.

Zoe ran up the
passageway. “Esther! Eva’s hit bad.” Sweat had darkened her purple scarf, and
her face was bloodless.

“Get Neal,” Esther
said. “He’s a better medic than me. Where is she?”

“Portside. Almost
to stern,” Zoe shouted.

She had a real
rifle slung over her shoulder, and as she whirled around it swung heavily
against her back. It wouldn’t do much good against the destroyer, though.

It had been at
least a minute since the last shell. Esther couldn’t allow herself to relax
yet, couldn’t allow the panic to set in. “There should be a first aid kit. Dax,
go find it and bring it to them.”

“Sure thing.” He
ran off, his hair on end as if from static.

One of the women
sitting on the floor stood on shaky legs. “Is it over?” she said, her voice
squeaking.

“I don’t know.”

The gunfire seemed
farther away, no longer pattering against the hull like rain. Esther listened
for a splash or explosion but heard nothing. She counted to ten, then crawled
back out of the hatch and darted to the pilothouse, crouching low to the deck.

The daylight was
already dimming, but as Esther reached the door a slice of sunshine cut beneath
the purple clouds, turning them to bronze. She stepped inside.