Chapter 2

Hard bed. Lucas felt consciousness returning slowly, but everything was wrong. His ankles and wrists were clamped down to what felt like a slab of solid rock. His mouth was covered with tape and he was blindfolded. He jerked against his bonds and attempted a muffled cry.

"Ah, Monsieur Wolenczak…" It was that same scratchy voice he'd heard on the bridge just before he passed out, but it still sounded like it was being piped through speakers. "Go ahead and do your best to break free. I will not 'ave your full attention until you are satisfied you cannot escape."

Lucas gathered his strength and tried again. He couldn't budge the restraints on his limbs even a little. After a few futile attempts, he decided instead to assess their design. He ceased jerking against them and tried to twist his arms and legs within the bonds. They didn't rattle like they would if they were metal, and they conformed to the skin extremely closely. If he had to guess, he would say padded straps of a strong yet flexible material with adjustable buckles.

Frustrated, he tried to scream, but the tape over his mouth muffled his cries to almost nothing. He could lift his head and neck a short distance off the rock slab, but it didn't help. What little sound escaped was unintelligible. However, his failed efforts did yield him a small tidbit of information. The echo doubled back immediately. The room he was in was very small, probably smaller than his and Tony's quarters back on seaQuest. And the lack of anyone else trying muffled noises suggested he was alone. Or, if anyone else was with him, they were still unconscious.

"Feel better now?" the scratchy voice mocked coldly.

Lucas let his neck muscles relax. Contact with the rock hurt the back of his head more than he expected, but he tried not to show it. Scratchy Voice Guy had to be watching and he didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"No, I did not really expect an answer. However, you will soon learn that when I do expect an answer, it is to your advantage to oblige me. But I 'ave no doubt you will all insist on learning the hard way. Actually, I am counting on it." He laughed at his private joke, reminding Lucas of every insane cliché villain from old superhero movies.

"Welcome to Château d'If, or rather, the island where the famous prison will be built sometime in the future."

Wait. Wasn't Château d'If the prison Dumas featured so prominently in The Count of Monte Cristo? And his captor said 'will be built'? Will be? Did he mean they were in the past now? That would explain the radio silence and the absence of satellites and the Naval Observatory. But how… or more importantly…why?

"I 'ave brought you here for my convenience, so we will not be disturbed, and so you will be quite assured there is no 'ope of rescue."

Lucas heard clicking—typing or perhaps just pushing buttons.

"You must be wondering who your fellow guests at the château are. Hmm… Captain Nathan Bridger… Commander Jonathan Ford… Lieutenant James Brody… Lieutenant Junior Grade Timothy O'Neill… Chief Warrant Officer Miguel Ortiz… Doctor Wendy Smith… Petty Officer Gregory Mitchell… Petty Of ficer Richard Watts… Seaman Lonnie Henderson… Seaman Thomas Young… and the civilian Computer Analyst, Lucas Wolenczak."

Everyone who had been on the bridge, Lucas realized.

"Your little diving canoe is trapped in a landlocked sea and all her bridge officers are here. There is no one to call for 'elp and no way to call them even if there were. 'Abandon all 'ope, ye who enter here.'" He cackled again.

Dante's Inferno. He was implying they were in hell. Which meant Mr. Scratchy Voice probably fancied himself the devil. Great. Lucas had at least three snappy comebacks he wanted to spit out, but it would have been ridiculous to attempt it with his mouth taped. He willed his body to cease its shaking. He didn't want this goon to realize how scared he was.

Footsteps indicated someone was entering his tiny room. After three steps, Lucas heard something being set down a few feet from where he lay—a tray, perhaps. Then something cold touched his neck and he jerked with surprise. There was no time to react further before the familiar sound of a hypospray hissed. Lucas tried to turn his head toward where he thought the wielder was, but he found he couldn't move his head at all. He tried to protest vocally, knowing his words would be muffled, but the muscles which controlled his vocal chords didn't work either. He couldn't make a peep.

Scratchy Voice intoned, "Do not fight the paralyzer, Monsieur, or it will compensate by strengthening, thus rendering your involuntary muscles as useless as the voluntary ones." For the first time, he sounded like he was there in person and not talking over speakers. "I do not think I need mention how unfortunate that could be."

Unfortunate? Involuntary muscles were what kept breathing and heartbeat going! If Lucas could have grit his teeth and growled, he would have. But he couldn't.

A ripping sound coincided with two tiny spots on his forehead stinging. Electrodes being torn off. Scratchy Voice Guy unfastened the restraints around his wrists and ankles, but Lucas was even more immobile now than he had been when they were in place.

"The paralyzer will wear off shortly. When it does, you may remove the blindfold and the tape from your mouth. I strongly recommend you apply your mouth to eating, and not to futile screaming, s'il vous plaît. I 'ave much data to examine, so I bid you adieu."

WAIT! Who are you? What do you want? Let me go!

Footsteps retreated and then just stopped. A faint electronic hum sounded. Silence, darkness, and an ominous sense of foreboding descended.