Sleep. We are safe.
So she had.
She had no idea how long. Many hours, certainly. The submarine's engines had changed their rhythm at some point, going from the deep thrumming of travel to something quieter, more controlled. And there were voices now, muffled through the metal walls but growing louder.
"We've arrived," Eluheed said quietly, and she felt his voice rumble through his chest.
Tamira lifted her head to look at him. Even in the dim light of the bunk area, she could see that he was still exhausted. His eyes had that hollow quality that came from too little sleep and too much fear.
"You didn't sleep," she said.
"I slept enough."
"Liar."
His lips quirked in that small smile she'd come to treasure. "I dozed off here and there. But I couldn't sleep. I had to keep watch."
"In a submarine operated by our rescuers? What could have possibly happened to us here?"
"A torpedo."
"Oh." She hadn't thought of that.
Her stomach chose that moment to growl.
Eluheed smiled. "Hungry?"
"Starving." She sat up carefully. The bunk was so narrow that any sudden movement risked tumbling them both onto the floor. "That one meal I ate before collapsing was a long time ago, and it barely counted as food."
"It left a lot to be desired." He shifted, swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk. "Though I've eaten worse."
Of course he had. In how many centuries? Throughout how many wars and famines and desperate circumstances?
A sharp knock on the metal frame made them both turn. Yamanu stood there, looking remarkably cheerful for someone who'd led an impossible rescue that had gone very differently from what he had come to do.
"We've docked at Safe Harbor. There's proper food waiting for you on shore. As soon as you are ready, you can disembark."
"I just need to use the restroom," Tamira said.
"Of course. The others are already gathering."
Tamira looked down at herself. She was wearing clothes that didn't fit, pants rolled at the ankles, a shirt that hung off her shoulders, all graciously donated by the submarine crew. Her hair was a disaster, still stiff with salt despite the brief submarine shower. And somewhere in the pile of wet things at the foot of the bunk was the clothing she'd worn under the wetsuit, now stuffed into a plastic bag.
"I must look terrible," she said.
"You are always beautiful," Eluheed said, and since truth was his actual religion, she knew he wasn't just saying that. "You look free," he added with a smile. "And it's a good look on you."
Free.
She still couldn't claim ownership of the word. It still didn't feel real.
She hadn't been free in over five thousand years. She didn't know what freedom was, what it felt like, and what she was going to do with it other than search for her son.
After a quick visit to the bathrooms, they made their way through the submarine, following the sounds of movement and voices toward the forward hatch. The other ladies were already there, along with Tony, who looked pale and slightly seasick.
Everyone wore the same mismatched donated clothing and socks instead of shoes. Everyone clutched plastic bags containing their meager possessions. Everyone had that same shell-shocked expression that Tamira suspected she wore herself.
"Finally," Sarah said when she saw Tamira. "I was starting to worry that you had decided to join the submarine crew and start your new life as a sailor."
