“Come on,” Ryann said to Brice, her voice so low he barely caught it. And he stepped into the wonderful, cool, dry hold-out.
The door slid shut behind him, and Ryann gestured towards one of the bunks that lined the side of the room. “Let’s get Cathal comfortable,” she said, her voice louder this time, ringing with a slight echo.
With Keelin’s help, Brice lowered Cathal onto a bunk. The mattress was clammy, with hardly any give, but just touching it made Brice realise how tired he was.
He looked around, even though he knew what to expect. Hold-outs were all the same. Opposite the five bunks were metal storage units and a work-top with a simple cooker. The table sat in the middle of the room, flanked by a couple of benches. And at the far end were two doors, one leading to the heads, and the other to the hatch. Just like the Proteus, this place had a second exit, up through the roof.
This place made the Proteus look like the height of luxury, but that was more down to how impersonal it was. The bunks held exactly the same bedding. There were extra blankets in the storage units, all of a uniform grey, the cheapest the company could find. The hold-outs were not designed to be lived in. They were a place to rest, or to hole up if a crew found themselves stranded. Like if their Proteus wasn’t working properly because the company didn’t care enough to make simple repairs.
Keelin made for the heads, and Tris started rummaging in one of the units, crouching and pulling boxes from drawers. Some kind of tech, Brice assumed, but it would keep him happy.
Ryann knelt by Cathal, a medi-kit open on the floor by her side. She reached over to his bandage and started to ease it off.
The smell was strong and pungent, and Ryann flinched, one hand over her mouth. But she didn’t stop until the bandage was free.
Brice moved closer, peering over her shoulder. “My lenses playing up, or is that black?” he asked. Around the ragged wound the skin was discoloured, and initially Brice thought it must be blood, or maybe a bruise. But the patch looked thick, and it had spread not only down his arm but also up his neck and across his chest.
“It’s black.”
“That’s not good, right? That’s more than a simple wound.”
Ryann nodded. “Far more. I need to test it.” She dove into her medi-kit, pulling out a swab. She rubbed this on Cathal’s wound and slotted it into the analyser. Her eyes half-closed as it fed the readings to her in, Brice assumed, a string of numbers and graphs. She sucked on her lower lip, oblivious to the rest of the room.
Brice turned to Tris. The drawer Data-boy had opened held about six items, and Brice smiled as he recognised these. Torches. Good old-fashioned flash-lights. Not much use when lenses and filters let everyone see in the dark, but Brice had used them before, training dark. Tris opened another drawer, and this one held more torches.
Did a hold-out really need so many? It annoyed Brice that the company wouldn’t fix a dodgy Proteus, but they wasted money on things like this. Probably someone high up getting a kick-back, or old guidelines that had never been updated.
“Find anything good?” he asked.
“You got anything useful to do?” Tris didn’t even turn his head.
“Just asking.”
Tris pushed the drawer of torches closed and opened the next one down. He let out a satisfied little grunt (at least, that’s what it sounded like to Brice), and reached in to pull out a small box, about the size of an outstretched hand, but about twice the thickness.
“What’s that?”
“Something useful. Unlike you.”
“Brice.” Ryann’s voice cut through the air. “I could use better lighting over here.”
“No problem.” She could use filters, and he knew she was trying to separate him from Tris, but he didn’t step away. Not yet.
He looked at Tris, then at the storage unit. “Torch?”
“Use the bloody room system, green.”
Green. Coming from Tris, that was just feeble. If it wasn’t so pathetic, Brice might have been angry.
“Thanks for your help.” Brice stepped away as a hand shot out. He timed it just right, and Tris’ fingers only brushed the sleeve of his jacket. “I’ll go do something useful. You stay here and play with yourself.”
He expected retaliation for that, and was ready to respond, but Tris turned towards Ryann, his mouth open. Ryann gave him a firm look, like she was telling him off. And Tris at least had the decency to look sheepish. Brice so wanted to be in on that conversation.
The atmos controls were by the door, accessible through the usual panel. Brice placed his hand on it, and waited for the options to appear. There was a tingle in his fingers, but that was all.
“Am I doing this right?”
“Should be straightforward,” Ryann said. No help there, then.
“I’ll do it.” Tris said. “Bloody grunt can’t cope with tech.”
“I’m fine,” Brice said, pushing with his lattice. He wondered if lightning had hit the hold out, like it had struck the Proteus. That would be about right, the way things were going. Goddamned useless tech. They’d be better off without it.
He sussed at the panel, even though he knew that would have no effect, but the stream of curse words at least felt good. He willed his lattice to connect, imagining red lines of invisible energy flowing along his arm.
And then everything exploded in white-hot pain, and a thousand punches slammed into Brice, flinging him to the floor. Everything went dark.
His flesh burned, hot and cold at the same time, but beneath the surface. He sensed it contracting, crushing his body, and he couldn’t breathe. His heart muscles hammered and then stilled, and for a moment, for the shortest of seconds, it stopped pumping.
He saw his lattice start-up levers, and they were dark and silent. A surge
