Going Home
by LZClotho
(c) 1999
Chapter 7
Janice and Melinda remained out of sight, watching from behind a lifeboat rack.
The Greek ship, a small speed craft, had eight figures standing on the deck. Two of them pointed weapons toward the Lob Lolly deck, and the two men standing at the railing.
Teneby shouted down, "We declared our cargo back in port. We've already been given clearance to leave."
"There is a report that you have contraband aboard, sirs. We are charged with scouting your vessel, or -" Here the man in a low-slung cap and loose-fitting coat, gestured toward the open water.
Following the gesture, Melinda and Janice, as well as all those aboard the Lob Lolly, could see two Greek naval ships rapidly steaming toward them.
The Greek captain finished his threat. "We board sir, or we send you to the bottom of the sea."
Even from here, Janice could see Captain Bristol's shoulders tense. Curtly he nodded, and stepped back, ordering a rope ladder lowered to enable the inspection team to board.
"What's going on?" Janice heard some of the inspectors exchanging rapid-fire Greek just before two of the three stepped onto the ladder's first rungs.
"The third man... the one staying behind," she clarified with a tiny gesture. "He demanded they search for a false hold." Melinda's blue eyes leveled on Janice's gaze. "And ordered a list of the entire crew's home ports and dates of hire."
Janice frowned. "I wonder how many other crew signed on with us?"
"Probably not many. The conversations over breakfast suggested this group's been together some time."
Janice was impressed. "You were eavesdropping."
The brunette's eyes drifted up and for a long moment the two women just quietly regarded one another, emerald floating in pools of indigo. "Can I help it if I can translate six languages without even thinking about it?" She finally said in a low voice. "Come on. Let's get back down to the galley." Janice and Melinda waited until the captain and the inspection team was in deep conversation, their backs turned to where the two women were standing. Then they quickly made their way back down the stairs.
Halfway down to their quarters, the women stopped at the sound of the general crew call for assembly. Do we go or not? They both thought, turning to question the other.
"What do you think?"
"Captain will be expecting us if he sounded the call," Melinda asked. Janice considered this. "But it wasn't a duty report signal. So..." An idea hit her. "Mel, how would you like to get dirty?"
After a long considered pause where a smile began widening on her face, Melinda carefully thought about it, then said, "I'm right behind you."
Janice turned and the two women hurried the rest of the distance, ducking into their quarters just as they could hear the inspectors begin their tapping explorations of the other decks. The walls ringing with dull metallic thumps the entire time, Janice rummaged through her suitcase and gestured at Melinda to do the same. "Big shirt, and baggy pants, if you have anything," she told the brunette. "Then we're going to finish cleaning the galley."
Melinda pulled her suitcase onto her bed and began looking though she asked, "But we were signaled to report."
"We're going to be late," Janice replied. "Because we were busy. Grease fires are a messy business."
Without another word, Melinda finished her search and found the requested clothes. Janice retrieved her own. Without a word they changed into the new outfits.
The blonde turned while buttoning her blouse and found herself face to face with Melinda's bare back. Long, smooth lines of muscles flexed under skin that reflected the low lamplight of the room in interesting shadows. The brunette was just bending over to step into her pants. Janice felt her heart start pounding, her cheeks heat up and her temples begin to ache. Janice, you've got to get a grip, she thought sternly, then waited, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth, for Melinda to turn around. "Tie up your hair," she said finally when the dark head just began to turn around.
Once that was accomplished, Janice tugged on the scarf borrowed for their earlier boarding adventure, and tied back her own hair beneath it. "Just in case they know what they're looking for," she explained with a rueful smile. "It worked last time," she added with a shrug as the two women left their quarters and walked into the galley. Janice pointed to the discarded greased rags stacked in the corner from their earlier cleaning job, a benefit of not being on land. Nothing could be thrown out until they reached a port.
"Time to get messed up," Melinda acknowledged, picking up three and tossing Janice two more.
Grimacing and wincing, Melinda and Janice applied the grease to their faces, clothes and hands in smears and smudges, and occasionally, in outright lumps.
Janice looked at Melinda. "You know something?"
"What?" Melinda looked up from applying the grease to her face. The fine bone structure of the Southerner's face was almost completely obscured, and incredibly enhanced by the dark mess coating her face. She looked childly cherubic and deadly exotic at the same time.
Janice felt the draw of the clear blue amid the grimy black mess and allowed the feeling to pull her closer, looking up into her companion's face. "You thought I was a cute kid." She lifted a glob of the grease in her palm. "But I bet you made a cute messy one."
She reached up with her hands and painted greasy lines amid the mess on Melinda's face. The blue eyes darkened to an iridescent indigo. "I bet you liked finger-painting as a kid too," her voice was low, filled with a soundless laughter that Janice could feel vibrating from the body in front of her. Fingers drifted up and touched her own face, painting lines and swirls in the greasy patches covering her own cheeks.
She was glad of the grease covering her flushed cheeks, since she could feel them heating under the brunette's touch. Melinda broke the spell with a dab of the stuff on her nose and letting loose the laughter. "We'd better report," she reminded Janice.
To hell with the report command, Janice thought even as she shook herself internally and realized the dire straits of their situation. "It could all end here, Mel," she cautioned.
"But it won't," the brunette said determinedly.
"All right. Let's go."
They emerged from the kitchen and started up the gangway, walking past an inspector who did not give them a second glance as they emerged on the top deck.
Quickly the two women crossed to where the crew was assembled, and moved into the back row, stepping between two men whose brows creased in confusion at their appearance. "Grease fire," Janice explained in a low voice to the man on her right, while Melinda stood straight and still to her left.
"Cap'n doesn't like it when people are late," he replied.
"He'd hate it even more if we'd left the fire burning," Janice pointed out.
The man nodded and the commotion in front of them shifted as they heard the next man answer questions.
"What's your job on board?"
"Mechanic, second class, sir," the man replied in a heavy British accent. Even the captain's wasn't that deep, Janice thought.
The man scribbled something on a pad. "When did you join the crew?"
"Four years ago it was, sir. Boarded her in Livuhpool," the reply came back.
Janice studied the back of the questioned crewman's head. Dark hair, trimmed closely, was tucked under a small dustman's cap.
The inspector moved to the next man. "Job?"
"Coal loader," the reply came back, from a dark-skinned, bare-shouldered man with hard muscles bulging in each arm. "Two years," he replied.
"What port?"
"Haiti," he replied. The inspector scribbled on his pad and started to move away. Janice watched with unmoving gaze as he began to talk to the man directly in front of her. Safely behind her mask of grease, she studied the Greek man's face. At her waist, she felt a hand close gently over her left and moved her head slightly to bring the taller woman into view.
"He wasn't from Haiti," Melinda said, her voice nearly soundless. Janice almost felt the words rather than heard them.
Lying? she thought. Well, it was what she planned to do, right? She admonished herself.
She hoped the inspector reached her first, instead of Melinda. Not that she didn't trust Melinda to play the game. At this point anything the brunette did wouldn't surprise her. First, drawing off the guards at the ministry, then she came up with the guise for their boarding the Lob Lolly.
No, Janice realized, she didn't want to put the burden of their lie on Melinda's shoulders. The inspector was several men away now, so she risked peaking more loudly than Mel had a moment ago. "I'll start," she said. "Depending on which end he starts, we'll switch so that I'll be first."
"You want me to follow your lead?" Melinda replied, keeping her voice for the blonde's ears only, by bending close and whispering against the scarf.
Janice nodded, unable to speak as the taller woman's warm breath seemed to short-circuit her ability to think and the hand wrapped around her own squeezed reassuringly.
The men and the two women fell silent, waiting for the captain and the inspector to work their way toward them. The low hum of the voices the only sound since the engines had been stopped and the turbines in the engine far below had been stilled.
Melinda watched the progress of the questioning, and listened to all the answers, though a lot of the accents did not seem to match up to their claims of homeport. Something else was going on here. She could sense it. The captain came up from the left, leading the inspector. Janice shifted to Melinda's left so that she would be questioned first. The blonde's compact body brushed Mel's as the switch was made.
Captain Bristol stepped up to them. "Our cooks," he explained to the inspector, whose eyes widened at the sight of the two. "Galley's cleaner than either of you, I presume," he coaxed.
"Yes, sir," Melinda answered, sparing Janice only a glance. "Small grease fire while we were finishing up."
"I noticed you missed the first call request," he replied.
"Couldn't be helped, sir."
The inspector stepped forward. "Enough. Job is cook. Hire date?"
Janice opened her mouth to answer, green eyes moving to the captain's face. The captain spoke first. "Six months ago."
"Port?" The tone belied his impatience. Janice stood stiff-necked under his drilling gaze.
"India," the captain answered. A British colonial holding. A bit surprised, but able to hide it, Janice nodded to confirm.
"Both of them?"
"What are you implying, inspector?" the captain lifted his chin. Nodding and waving his hand dismissively, the inspector moved on to the next man. Janice held the captain's gaze a moment longer and then turned her eyes forward again. She struggled to slow the hammering of her heart in her chest, and again felt the warm squeeze of Melinda's hand wrapping around hers down at their sides.
She took a deeper breath with each move the man made away from them.
Shortly after the run in with the inspector, the bosun blew the whistle for dismissal. As the crew scrambled to resume their duties, the other inspector emerged from the lower decks, a bag in his hands. "I found it, sir. I found it!"
Chapter 8
Janice's feet froze to the deck. She was less than three paces away from the man and the bag clutched in his hand. She could feel Melinda at her back and the blood pounding in her veins gave her a rush of color to her cheeks and a rush of warmth to her legs. The man with the bag was not sparing a glance for her. Clasping it to his chest, he jogged to where the captain and inspector stood.
Melinda bent close as they watched him move away. "Do you think..?"
Janice's distinctly felt seasick. "I don't know," she whispered back. She started calculating the distances. Fifteen paces to the bag. There were eighteen, maybe twenty more paces to the railing that led away from the Greek naval ships. "How far can you swim?"
Wide blue eyes locked on her, pupils dilated with surprise. "No. No. No. Jan-ice." She drew out the blonde's name in a pleading tone.
Janice was not listening. She turned away and took two steps toward the assembly of men, emerald eyes glittering with determination. Melinda followed and reached for the smaller woman's arm even as they both came within earshot of the conversation.
"I found the plans to our troop movements, sir." He nodded toward the first officer. "Hidden in a false panel in his desk."
Janice could not believe her ears. She could feel Melinda at her back throw her blue gaze on Teneby even as Greek military roughly hauled him around, throwing him off his feet and holding him up as they shackled his wrists together behind his back.
Teneby said nothing, which bothered Melinda the more she thought about it. Next to her, Janice's body stopped thrumming with so much energy, even as she herself felt curiosity rising like a tide. Something very strange seemed to be going on here, she thought, as she watched Teneby and Bristol eying each other with matching granite expressions.
Janice grasped Melinda's arm as the brunette tried to move to stop the arrest. "No, Mel."
Captain Bristol nodded stiffly once at the Greeks' remarks while Teneby was dragged to the railing and lowered down to the smaller boat. The inspector who had located the stolen maps followed quickly.
"We have what we came for," the Greek captain informed Bristol with a tap of his hat. "You are welcome to resume your voyage, sir. May it be a safe one," he added as he paused at the top of the rope ladder.
Bristol was silent and brooding as he watched the small boat, flanked by the two naval ships, steam steadily out of the way of their westbound course. Melinda stepped up quietly alongside him and looked out over the water. "Why didn't you object, sir?" she asked, without looking at him. "Certainly a British citizen.."
"Teneby knows how I feel, Miss Pappas." He turned and protected his gaze from the mid-morning sun. "I would like lunch brought to my cabin today." He turned on his heel and moved below deck, as Janice strode up to a puzzled Melinda.
The brunette leaned back on the railing and contemplated the doorway through which the captain had disappeared. "Mel?"
"Janice, I don't think we're the only one hiding things on this ship."
The remark was said softly by a voice filled with contemplation. It made Janice look up and find cerulean eyes searching her gaze. "But it looks like we got away from Greece intact," she replied. "I'm sorry for the first officer though. He seemed like a nice guy."
Melinda looked away and thought about the faraway look she had seen briefly on the captain's weathered dark features. "I feel sorrier for the captain," she commented, then pushed away from the railing and gestured to Janice. "Come on, we've got to get back and get our work done."
Janice's forehead developed a furrow as she tried to figure out what Melinda seemed to have discovered, then shook her head and decided the brunette would share when she felt it was important. She followed Melinda down to their quarters.
Meeting a few off-duty crewmen on their way down, and near the galley, milling the corridor, both Janice and Melinda decided changing clothes would have to wait. They washed their hands and faces in the kitchen water and then dished up a couple platters of food for the stray crewman. They set out crackers, blocks of cheese, strips of cured beef and water.
The brunette was silent through the entire process, until they both stood back with hands on their hips and Janice hoped Mel was going to suggest they get cleaned up next. Just thinking about how dirty she'd gotten, Janice felt the itching start. She scratched at an itch on her chin from the drying grease.
"You go ahead and change, Janice. I'll take some of this up to the captain," Melinda suggested, picking up a small plate and filling it with an assortment.
"I'm sure the captain doesn't want his lunch until we've had a chance to clean up."
Blue eyes flickered from the plate then back up to Janice, who was scratching now at her nose. Melinda suddenly felt the urge to scratch an itch and put down the plate to do so.
"Good. So we're getting cleaned up then?" Janice's chuckle stopped Melinda's hand mid-scratch.
Guiltily she dropped her hand and nodded. "All right."
"Come on. I'll wash your back and you can wash mine." She led the way out of the galley and down to their cabin. As Melinda passed her to enter the room, she put a hand on the taller woman's shoulder, stopping her mid-step. "Mel, I'm sorry about..." she came to a halt mid-sentence. "I don't know what I'm sorry about. Just... you're so quiet. Are you all right? Are you seasick again?"
Earnest green eyes searched Melinda's, and the brunette felt an insane urge to brush the woman's cheek even as she saw Janice's jaw tremble. "No, I'm fine," she said. "Just distracted." Janice looked dubious, but Melinda wasn't sure what other answer to give. She was concerned about their captain, and wondering what other secrets this ship harbored, other than the one she and Janice carried. Janice would not want to hear any of that she was sure.
But the blonde surprised her. "We've got some time," she offered.
Melinda pulled back and stepped further into the room, crossed to her bed and sat down. "Just my conscience I suppose. I'll work it out."
Coming inside as well, Janice sighed. "Are you still wishing I had left Xena's chakram with the authorities?"
Melinda shook her head. "No. I'm just tired of secrets." She gestured to the ceiling. "Can we tell the captain at least?"
Settling on her bed, Janice looked at Melinda's posture, reading sadness in the softly sloped shoulders and fidgeting fingers in her lap. "Teneby was who they were after, Mel, not us. What good would it do to tell Captain Bristol we're carrying contraband too?"
The brunette gave a half-smile, self-deprecating and hopeful at the same time. "It would make me feel better," she admitted.
Janice pulled her knees up to her chest and sat further back on her bed, saying nothing. "Mel, I... I don't know about this." She looked again at her partner and almost chuckled. Who'd have thought it? The daughter of the infamous Harry Covington, was considering a bout with her conscience. The brunette laid back on the other bed and the blonde could see the smears of grease on the covers as Melinda rolled herself into her pillow. "Will you say something anyway, even if I don't want to do this?" Janice asked. How far did Melinda's loyalties go?
The brunette closed her eyes, but shook her head. "No. No, I won't."
Janice heard the pain of her choice in Melinda's voice. The woman was leaving the choice entirely to her. How many people in your life have ever done that willingly, huh, Jan? "All right then. At least give me time to think about it?" She sat up on the bed, drawing Melinda's gaze up to her face. "How about I take the captain's lunch? I'll figure out something. You clean up and take a nap."
Melinda remained quiet. Their gazes locked and she could feel the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. She set her jaw against them and looked away. She didn't want to part with her conscience, but she hated being in conflict with Janice even more. "All right," she conceded.
Standing up, Janice tried for a little levity. "Maybe while you're in dreamland, you can visit dinner and find out what we're having. All this fighting with my conscience is making me hungry."
Eyes that had almost washed translucent with melancholy resumed their luminous cerulean color and a smile touched Melinda's lips. "Thanks," she said.
Janice felt better... a little. She found the wash basin and scrounged a cloth from her suitcase, washing up quickly and leaving it on the top of the small counter for Melinda to use. "All yours," she said, watching Melinda sit up. "I'll be back in a little while."