“Smaller one might be more interesting, though.” Brice pointed to the middle route, and from the lift at the corners of his mouth, Ryann knew he was making this suggestion only to push Tris. The tunnel was more of a hole, no higher than her thigh. It looked like the hole rose sharply, so they’d be climbing as well as crawling.
“Keelin?” Cathal asked, and Ryann realised how little she had heard from the pilot.
“I’m not good at this.” She shrugged, and looked away. The loss of the Proteus was hitting Keelin hard.
<You still in contact with the craft, Kee?> Ryann sussed. The use of ‘Kee’ was important here, she felt.
<Too faint. And it will only get worse the deeper we go.>
And yet Keelin had chosen to explore the caves.
<We’ll be fine,> Ryann told her. <The Proteus isn’t going anywhere.>
“Ryann?” Cathal asked.
She focused on the trails, and followed them. Some climbed into the hole, and more used the larger path. But the majority filled the path to the right. The rock on the ground was smooth, although this spread to the walls, and so Ryann doubted it was from the tread of many feet. It was more likely that this tunnel had been carved by water.
One of the other foundations of life, she thought. The moss and lichen clung to the edges of the cave, where they could pull moisture from the air, and drink heavily from the rain that streaked the rock. If whatever left these traces could survive with reduced light, it would still need water. So this tunnel made sense.
“This one,” she said, and might have justified her decision, but Cathal nodded instantly.
“Okay,” he said. “Everyone, keep recording. We travel slow. Capture anything of interest and broadcast. Ryann, you’re on point.”
She nodded, and stepped into the tunnel.
In the confined space, the trace was stronger, and the death stench a constant background note. She ran a hand over the rock, imagining how water once flowed over it.
Follow the water, she told herself. It must have come from above. And whatever left that trace would need to drink. Follow the water to find life.
But a small voice at the back of her mind told her that life needed more than water.
It also needed to feed.
Cathal felt better when he was moving. Always had done. Sitting down made him think of paperwork, and that pushed him into apathy. But when he walked, blood flowed better, and his thoughts moved faster.
Ryann was holding out on him. Not lying exactly, but covering up her thoughts. Cathal could go through her data, but she was smart. He knew how she could hide the important stuff in plain view. He’d look too deep, and he’d miss what she really thought.
He checked his emotions. His annoyance wasn’t with Ryann, or with any of the others. True, Tris was wimping out, Keelin was retreating, and Brice was a whole swarm of concerns. But Cathal could deal with that. Easier than playing politics back at Haven.
No, he was annoyed at the situation. And, yes, the lies—no, misinformation—Kaia-bloody-hive had fed him.
There was the missing crew, for starters. The mission briefing said they were to check out irregular signals picked up by a long-range drone. That was it. No details on these signals, and no indication of how the crew should respond. Usually, something that far from Haven, there were strict protocols—search in half-hour bursts, feed back reports regularly, only split up in certain, pre-defined situations, yadda yadda yadda. The mission briefings were usually full of bullet-points some desk-jockey on Metis had vomited up.
But the briefing for this mission had none of that.
When Cathal dug deeper—and he hated having to call in a favour from Piran, that slimy bottom-feeder—he was surprised at how quickly the crew were dispatched. And how little additional information they were given. Nothing about the spread or nature of these signals. Or about the dead warth, further along the gully. According to the drone’s data, there was no sign of broken bones, so a fall seemed unlikely. There was a deep wound in its neck, but little blood.
The crew’s commander was Nels Kollias, and although Cathal didn’t know him well, he knew of the man’s reputation. Solid, but he wasn’t one to work hard. He wouldn’t have dug any deeper. He wouldn’t have a clue about the warth.
He’d led his crew blindly into the gully, searching for something capable of killing a warth.
Cathal had no doubts that Nels had led his crew to their deaths. His own mission wasn’t search-and-rescue, but recovery of assets.
If Kaiahive expected him to lead his crew as blindly as Nels did, they had another thing coming. Screw the mission—crew always came first.
But he wasn’t sure this lot were up to it. Oh, they weren’t a bad bunch, but they were too young. Kids. Keelin was a great pilot, maybe one of the best he’d seen, but she was still wet behind the ears. Separated from the Proteus, she was dead weight. And Tris—the lad was a genius with tech. Cathal got that. But he’d be better off in Haven, or even back on Metis. He wasn’t cut out for action.
Then there was Brice. The most troublesome of the three, undoubtedly, but also the one with the greatest potential. Ryann might have been ribbing him earlier, but Cathal did see some of himself in the greenest of the crew. The defiance of authority, the disdain for others—dangerous attitudes, but in small doses Cathal knew they gave an edge where it mattered. Like earlier, when Brice had fired his lash. Yes, it was a bloody stupid thing to do, and Cathal had to hold himself back from ripping the kid to shreds over it. But he’d seen a threat, and he’d responded. He’d taken the initiative.
But if his lattice was playing up, he’d lose that edge. Cathal didn’t
