by TW Iain
The words flowed through Brice, but there was more, in the background, from two other voices.
Images burst into Brice’s mind, a series of maps and stills that blurred into a meaningless grey.
He shouldn’t be hearing this. Although he was receiving wide, this conversation was private. He shouldn’t be able to eavesdrop.
Brice held himself rigid, not sure if he wanted to hear this.
What did that mean?
There was a lull, and then Ryann came back.
That meant absolutely nothing to Brice.
Another drop of water landed on his forehead.
There was no response. He heard more technobabble between Keelin and Tris, like they were talking in another language. There was something about hull integrity, and they both sounded worried.
Brice considered sussing again, but what was the point? They couldn’t hear him. It was like he existed in his own bubble back here.
That must be it. With the Proteus running on emergency power, and all its systems playing up, there must be interference. The craft itself was blocking his messages.
Brice returned to the bridge, trying to ignore the obvious—if they couldn’t hear him, how could he hear them?
“Welcome back, Brice. Pleasant break?”
Brice kept his voice level, countering the sarcasm. “We’ve got a breach.”
That got their attention. Keelin spun in her chair, and Cathal looked round with one eye cocked. Even Tris turned.
“Main hatch. Possibly damage to the outer door, and water’s pooling. It’s starting to seep through the inner door.”
Keelin’s eyes glazed over for a second. “Of course,” she said to herself, and her shoulders sagged.
“How serious?” Cathal turned to his pilot.
“Getting readings. Don’t want to pull power from core functions.”
“We’re not going to have those core functions if it’s flooded,” Brice said.
“Bit of water won’t hurt it,” said Tris, and Brice caught his sneer.
“Maybe. How long can you hold your breath?”
“Keelin?” Cathal asked.
“Data now in. Situation serious, but not dire. The flow is increasing, and the breach widening. At current rates, the hatch will fill in twenty minutes, and increased pressure will widen the gap in the inner door. Rough estimate, forty to fifty minutes before we’re swimming.”
“So under an hour of air left.”
“Going on current data, yes.”
“And power? That going to get back up any time soon?”
Brice saw Keelin hesitate, and turn to Tris, who shrugged.
“Seems unlikely.”
Brice took in a breath and held it before releasing. He felt the twin thuds of his heartbeat, and he suppressed the release of adrenaline. He didn’t need that yet.
Cathal brought a hand up to his chin with the sandpaper rustle of skin over bristles.
“Keelin, open prediction—what can we expect from the Proteus?”
Keelin shook her head. “I’ve never seen her like this. She needs help, more than I can give her. Without that, she’ll slip into deep sleep. Maybe a few hours, maybe a couple of minutes.”
“I thought these things were tough?” Brice fought to control his anger. “Aren’t they supposed to be able to withstand just about anything? What about all that crap about how they’re tested in lava and zero atmospheres, and flown at mountainsides to make sure they survive? A tumble down a waterfall should be nothing.”
He felt Ryann’s eyes on him, but he kept his own on Keelin. Unfair, he knew, but he needed a focus. And she met his gaze with coldness.
“It should be. But the systems are electrical at core. A lightning strike can play havoc with that.”
“And they didn’t think to protect against that?”
“They did! When this baby came off the production line, she was perfect. But she’s old. You know how it goes. You know how the company cuts corners.”
“So we’re screwed because some bean counter didn’t want to spend too much?”
“What, you think you’re worth anything to Kaiahive?” She spat out the company’s name.
“That’s enough!” Ryann held a hand out, a thin barrier between Brice and Keelin. It was enough to make him take a step back.
“That’s life,” Cathal said. “Get used to it. They make the decisions, we cope with the fall-out. That’s what they pay us for.” He looked from Brice to Keelin and back again. “Or are you only doing this for the thrill of it?”
Brice didn’t need to answer. Nor did Keelin. Cathal continued.
“Situation’s this. Lightning screwed up our Proteus, and we’re taking on water. Storm’s worsening, and it’s already dark enough for night. We need to exit, and we need to be prepared. Ryann, take Brice and sort out kit. Tris, you work with Keelin.”
Tris nodded, and swallowed.
“Tell me,” Cathal said. “Tell me what we need to do.”
Brice knew. They all did. It was part of the training, but nobody expected to have to use it for real.
Tris avoided everyone’s eyes as he spoke. “We need to flood the Proteus.”
Ryann eased herself from her chair, joining Brice on the wall.
She could tell he was scared. He wouldn’t admit that, even to himself, but the signs were there—dilated pupils, the flickering movements of his face, the way his fingers twitched when he talked. And, of course, there was his anger. She felt it rolling off him, but it was undirected. He was searching for a reason, for something to be angry at. And that was unhealthy.
She met Brice’s eyes and tilted her head to the open door. He nodded and climbed smoothly. Of course he did. Physicality was his speciality. If she could keep him moving, he’d stay calm.
In the cabin, she reached up to seal the door, but Brice put his own hand in the way, cupping the sensor without triggering it.
“Can we leave the door open?” he said. “I think it was stopping communication before. Interference or something.”
“Of course.” She pulled her own hand back. The door might muffle sound, but it was not a barrier to communication. Brice looked away, and Ryann sensed there was more he wanted to say.
She wouldn’t push him. She’d give him time to collect his thoughts. She’d give him a nudge later.
“Let’s get started,” she said, moving to the s
torage units. “Overnight kit.”
He raised his eyebrows at that.
“Just a precaution. But seal everything tight.”
“Watertight.”
“Exactly. You ready for this?” Keeping things vague let his mind go where it needed.
“Course. Just like training, right?”
Brice opened a unit and pulled out a pack without looking. Exactly like training, Ryann thought. Brice emptied the contents, checking. She imagined that, like her, he ran through a list in his mind—micro-rope, emergency aid kit, sleepsac, water bottle, and so on.
It was honest work, and it diverted his mind. Now might be a good time to delve into the things that were troubling her.
“You mentioned interference?” She pulled out a second pack, mirroring Brice’s actions.
He shrugged. “I sussed about the breach, but got no response. I could hear you—all of you—but it was like you couldn’t hear me.”
He was tightening straps on the pack, from bottom to top. Ryann did the same, without consciously glancing at either her pack or his.
“Can you hear them now?” she asked.
Brice nodded.
“Anything interesting?” She needed to know he wasn’t bluffing.
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t call it interesting. Keelin and Tris are talking through the procedure for flooding the Proteus, and Cathal is interrupting.”
Interrupting. That was an interesting choice of word. Listening in herself, Ryann knew he was guiding them, using questions to force them to consider other factors. Interrupting suggested interference, not assistance.
She’d have to monitor Brice’s attitude towards Cathal.
“Loud and clear.” He put one pack aside and moved on to the next. Ryann did the same.
Then she thought of his pause earlier, and focused on Cathal alone.
“Hear anything else?” she asked Brice, keeping her voice nonchalant.
His brow furrowed, and his throat bobbed. “Just Keelin going on about pressure. Think that’s what it is.” He shrugged. “Never was good at that stuff. But she doesn’t sound bothered, so that’s a good sign, right?”
Ryann smiled. “Must be.”
And he’d given too much away. The levity in his voice was forced. He’d hesitated a fraction too long, and she’d noticed his body twitch. And that meant…
She wasn’t sure what it meant. She needed more data.
“Ask Cathal something, Brice. Anything at all.”
He shrugged again, still tugging at webbing on the pack, feigning apathy. His brow furrowed. He glanced at her, and when she didn’t respond—when she forced her expression to remain passive—he looked away, moving on to the last pack. Ryann grabbed the other four, placing them by the open door.
“Suspected as much,” she said, quietly, as if talking to herself. When he turned, she paused, with one eyebrow raised, as if to say ‘what?’ He didn’t speak, and before his slightly confused expression dissolved into resentment—as it surely must if he believed her to be holding out on him—she spoke, louder. “Tell me, what were you doing when the lightning struck?”
His hands stopped moving over the pack, and his eyes looked up. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, biting gently. Ryann wondered if he was conscious that he always did that when he was deep in thought.
“I was riding the hull.”
And that meant his lattice was joined to the external of the Proteus when the lightning struck.
“That makes sense,” she said, giving him something to hold on to. “A big enough charge could disrupt a lattice, although there’s normally protection.”
“You saying the lightning fried my lattice?”
That was putting it crudely, but it would suffice. She nodded. “It’ll need checking out, of course. I could run a quick diagnostic?” She extended her hand. Brice looked at it, hesitating. That was understandable. If she were in his position, she’d be uncomfortable about what might be uncovered, too.
And then water splashed onto her hand, the droplet exploding in a green glow. She looked up, to the hatchway, and to the dark patch around the seal. Another drop of water peeled off and fell.
She looked down at the five bundles.
Brice grabbed three of the packs, Ryann the other two. When she nodded, he made his way back through the door. But not before he saw how the drips were now a continual flow of water.
In the bridge, everyone was out of their seats, standing on the wall. They grabbed their packs and shouldered them. Nobody spoke, or—as far as Brice could tell—even looked at one another. The whole scene felt like a training session, but one that shouldn’t be happening.
He adjusted the straps on his own pack, pulling it firmly against his back. He bounced and rolled his shoulders, checking for any friction. There was none.
And that felt comforting. The pack was a part of him, just like his jacket and his boots. He mentally ran through an inventory of everything he carried, either on his back or in pockets, and each item appeared as a picture in his mind.
He didn’t know if that was in his own mind or through his lattice. Ryann’s words hovered over everything, spreading possible implications like cracks across glass. He couldn’t trust his lattice any more. His muscles would need to function on their own, with no back-up. His senses would be dulled. When adrenaline flowed—like it was doing so now—it would be uncontrolled.
Brice used to enjoy training dark. But this was no longer training.
Splashing water echoed form the cabin, like someone pouring a never-ending drink. Brice looked into the gloom, and wondered why he couldn’t see a puddle, until he realised the whole wall shimmered and rippled.
The water rose, and broke through into the bridge, tumbling around the door in its own little waterfall. Nothing as impressive as the Tumbler, but it hypnotised Brice, how the water cascaded down, individual drops consumed by the whole, all working together like some vast living organism. The amorphous beast stretched out, surrounding the crew. The water reached Brice’s ankles, then crept over the top of his boots.
It was cold, but he sensed the temperature rather than feeling it, and he wondered if his lattice was retaining body heat, or if adrenaline was numbing him to any pain. The effect was the same either way, so maybe it didn’t matter. He twisted his legs, moving the slight pressure from his calves to his shins and back, playing with the water. It was something to do while he waited.
The water rose, creeping over his skin like icy fingers, his trousers and then jacket wicking the moisture up even higher. His skin pulled tight in anticipation, and he gasped as the coldness hit his chest. As it reached his chin, he tilted his head back and his feet lifted from the ground.
Or, rather, from the wall. Brice kicked upwards, then pedalled his feet, keeping himself afloat.
The water was murky. He could no longer see his legs, and when he dipped a hand beneath the surface it disappeared from view. There were other shapes, blobs that would be the crew’s bodies, but nothing was defined.
Run-off. That was the technical term, wasn’t it? With the storm, loads of soil and whatever else was being flushed into the river, and this was all being thrown over the Tumbler. The plunge pool would be churning everything up, and now that water had almost filled the Proteus. Water that was more than just a liquid.
He didn’t want to think about what else it contained.
Brice looked around bridge, at least what was still above the surface. The wall above was closer now. Of the two forward seats, one was already submerged. Tris’, Brice noted, and that pleased him. But the water only took a few seconds to reach Keelin’s seat. Soon, only a small air pocket would remain.
He took a long breath, stretching then squeezing his lungs, pushing them to their limit. He didn’t know how long he’d be under for. The short swim to the hatch wasn’t a problem, but Brice had no idea what to expect after that. The flow might be strong enough to carry him further downstream. There might be fallen trees to negotiate. The Proteus might be deeper than they knew.
Too many possibilities.
Something collided with Brice’s head, and he moved to one side, away from his own chair. The door to the cabin was now underwater, and only the air pocket remained.
An influx of cold water swirled round his body, and he pulled in breath with a shudder. He felt silt against his skin.
Cathal moved to one side of the door. “Okay, time to move. Ryann on point, followed by Keelin, Tris, Brice. I’ll bring up the rear.” He grinned, water droplets shaking from his stubble. “Let’s go swim.”
Ryann took a breath, then dropped beneath the surface, becoming nothing more than a vague shape that passed through the door into the darkness beyond.
Keelin followed, then Tris. Data-monkey floundered for a moment, trying something like a surface dive, one foot coming up to bang loudly on the wall. Brice held his laugh in, not wanting to swallow any of the water.
When Cathal nodded, Brice brought his hands up and let the weight of his boots and pack pull him down. At the last moment he filled his lungs and sealed his mouth.
Even with lenses, it was hard to see beneath the surface. The water was gritty, and tasted foul. He pulled himself into the cabin, grabbing the table and then pushing upwards, through the hatch.
Then he was in the river, and the water was colder than he expected. The flow pulled at him, but he kicked against it, simultaneously pulling the water with cupped hands. The motion of swimming in full kit felt strangely comforting.
It took him a moment to realise he’d broken the surface, because the water didn’t stop. It simply changed from a constant swirl to the heavy rapid-fire downpour of the rain.
