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Juan could tell the ship was already going down at the bow. All of them were standing at an angle, and the guns on the floor slid to the front of the room.
He bent down and pulled up his pant leg to expose his combat leg prosthesis. He opened the secret compartment holding his ceramic knife and .45 ACP Colt Defender. He left those in place and took out a packet smaller than a deck of cards and closed up the leg.
The packet contained a plug of C-4 plastic explosive and a remote detonator. The gray putty was moldable and could be formed into any shape. Juan hadn’t wasted the charge on the fireproof door because the detonation would have only put a hole in it, not opened it.
The panels of the door creaked and deformed until water began to gush through the seals, forced into the citadel by the outside pressure until it became a torrent.
The water level rose at what would be an alarming rate in any other circumstance, but in this case, Juan was frustrated at how slowly it was filling the room.
At last they were buoyant, impatiently treading water as the water covered the shelving units. Food packets, soda cans, and water bottles drifted around the room.
Then the lights went out and the room went silent. The water had shorted out the auxiliary generator.
The battery-powered emergency lighting kicked on, giving the room a ghostly feel.
The water level height was accelerating now. Juan wouldn’t have long to attach the C-4. As soon as he could reach the eyebolt, he slapped the plastique onto the cable fitting and mashed it in until it completely surrounded the metal. The final step was inserting the tiny detonator.
“Get ready,” he said to Eddie and Raven, who were treading water on the opposite side of the room.
Juan swam over to them and counted down.
“. . . three . . . two . . . one.”
They all took a breath and submerged, with Juan holding the remote detonator above the surface. He pressed the button, and a loud crack echoed through the chamber.
He surfaced to see the severed end of the cable dangling in the water.
“That’s our cue,” Juan said.
They swam over and grasped the cable, letting it guide them up as the water continued to flood in. The surface was now tilted at a crazy slant as the Centaurus settled by the bow.
When the water was three feet away from the ceiling, Juan kicked himself up and grabbed hold of the latch. He gave it a twist. It didn’t move.
The hatch was locked.
* * *
—
When Sylvia got up to the bridge, the first thing she saw in the dimly lit room was Eric looking at her with alert eyes. She went over to him and gently ran her fingers through his hair. He gave her a crooked smile.
He made a clicking sound, and Sylvia instantly recognized it as Morse code.
NICE TO C U.
She grinned at h
im, although all he could see was her eyes through the mask. “You, too.”
HEADSET.
Sylvia had completely forgotten about the headset she’d thrown off when she’d put on the gas mask. She went and retrieved it, stopping to bend over and assure Linc that she’d get them both off the sinking ship somehow. However, given that Linc weighed twice as much as she did, she had no idea how she was going to do it.
She fitted the headset over the gas mask and spoke loudly so that her muffled voice could be heard.
“Hello, this is Sylvia. Is anyone out there?”
A few seconds’ pause made her wonder if it still worked.
