Brice swallowed dryly. He didn’t want to answer that question.
“So this is what we do,” Ryann continued, putting her hands on her hips. “Power’s priority, so Tris, see what you can do. Keelin, you help. Brice,” and here she nodded towards the storage units, “give us a full inventory.” Then she turned to the rear of the hold out. “I’ll recon outside.”
“No!” Keelin said, the word sharp, tumbling out like she couldn’t stop it. “I mean, you…we don’t know what’s out there. What if…”
Ryann held up a hand, and Keelin trailed off.
“We need to know the situation. Without power, we have no external sensors. And I’m the tracker. If I sense anything, I won’t even open the hatch. And if it’s safe, I’ll only take a quick look anyway. Believe me, I don’t want to go out there unless I have to.”
“But if we get the power back on, we’ll have sensors. We don’t need to rush.”
Ryann glanced at Cathal. Brice wasn’t sure if anyone else caught the movement.
“We don’t know how long that will take. We need maximum data in minimum time. We work round any problems. It’s what we do.” She hesitated, then stepped towards the rear door. “Let’s do this.” The words sounded like an echo of Cathal. And like an echo, they had no substance of their own.
The door shut behind her, and Brice turned to the storage units.
The torch Tris had dropped was still the only source of light in the room, so Brice first opened the drawer with the torches and pulled out another one. He turned it on, running through the settings. He couldn’t understand why they made these things so complicated. He could change the angle and intensity of the beam, and even the make-up of the light itself. There were coloured filters, but also different wavelength settings. One was even supposed to mimic night-vision, which seemed particularly useless—surely having a light source did away with the need for night vision?
Brice selected a bright beam with a harsh blue hue, which he knew would hurt his eyes after a while, but it did a great job of banishing the shadows wherever he pointed it. Far better than the yellow glow from the torch Tris had been using, before he let it fall like a frightened child.
He didn’t even use the wrist-strap. Brice wondered how Data-monkey even got through basic training.
Tris was by the door. He’d removed the wall panel around the controls, and was prodding around inside. Keelin stood, practically touching him, and every now and then she’d bring a hand up and point.
Techies and pilots always stuck together. Brice had noticed that back in training, even before the final lattice tweaks, when specialities were still supposed to be wide open. It was like they had their own language, like they couldn’t use normal words for stuff. Keelin and Tris would be using this technobabble now, sussing back and forth. It wasn’t like they even needed to suss, though. Brice wouldn’t understand a word of it.
He turned back to the stores. He had his own job to do, even if it was the kind of thing anyone could do. But it was grunt-work. It was a job to keep the greenest of the green out of the way.
Ryann was as bad as Cathal. No, worse. She wavered too much. She didn’t have Cathal’s solidity.
But, technically, she was in charge. He had to follow her orders, as pathetic as they were.
What else could he do?
The supplies in the hold-out were predictable enough that Brice could keep a list in his head, even without access to data banks. He found toolkits, a step up from basic but nothing special. Another drawer held five lashes, with double-strength power-packs. Below this were knives, each one in a separate sheath, and also sealed in clear plastic. It looked like they’d never been touched.
He carried on. Medical supplies, a few hygiene items, spare clothing and blankets. Everything was a bland grey colour, all standard issue. The blankets reminded Brice of Cathal’s quarters back on the Proteus. Serviceable was the word that came to mind. This stuff, all the supplies—they’d do the job, but they were nothing to get excited about.
Even the food was bland. Brice ran a finger across the rows of foodpacks, reading the labels. Each one had a name, then nutritional information. Ingredients came last, because they were not important. Who cared what it tasted like, as long as it supplied the required amount of energy or whatever?
But there was an allergy warning, as ridiculous as that was. When was the last time anyone had an allergic reaction to food? The body’s lattice would compensate. It could isolate toxins and ejected them from the body. The need to put such pointless information on a foodpack made Brice laugh out loud.
“You playing about over there, or doing something useful?”
Brice brought the torch up, shining it straight at Tris. The data-freak cursed, and shielded his eyes. Keelin put a hand on his shoulder and dipped her head. Brice lowered the beam.
“You fixed the power yet?” he said, trying to keep his tone light because he knew this would wind Tris up.
“Not after the way you screwed it.”
“Better get back to work then.”
“You think you can do any better?”
Brice wanted to come back with something strong, but he knew Tris had him there. And the moron’s supercilious grin just added to his frustrations. He thought of ploughing a fist into that smug face. He imagined the baby crying out as he staggered back. There wouldn’t even have to be any blood, and Tris would be beaten. He was pathetic.
Keelin’s other hand came round, so she had one on each of Tris’ shoulders, and she moved her face in front of his. She didn’t speak, but
