<Tris?>
<…maybe longer. Goes up…>
<Missed that. How much longer?>
<Ryann? You still…>
<Think we’re losing connection.>
<…far too many of them…>
<You okay?>
<…can’t hear ..>
<Tris?>
<…>
Ryann tried again, and she felt rather than heard his voice, distant and filled with static.
<Tris?> Keelin called, her eyes wide.
“Out of range, that’s all,” Ryann said. “But the torches are working. They’ll be fine.”
Keelin nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.
“They’ll be fine,” Ryann repeated, and they slipped into silence.
The path was a sea of mud, and it pulled at Brice’s boots with every step. They’d never make the landing pad in eight minutes. Even ten was optimistic.
The trees crowded the path, far too close for comfort. Those creatures had long limbs and sharp claws.
Another one jumped from tree to tree, its hiss angry as it smoldered in the torch beams. Brice followed it with a torch, the burning-flesh stink tasting far better than their normal rancid odour. But then the creature was gone, into the shadows.
The ground rose, and Brice trod through running water now, brown and thick with mud. Tris stumbled a few times, but that wasn’t too surprising. He wasn’t cut out for this. Gym training only went so far.
This was Brice’s speciality, and he had to hep Tris. Even if he had to carry the fool. He’d done that with Cathal, hadn’t he? And Tris wouldn’t be a dead weight. That would make things easier.
But Tris would never agree to that. He’d keep on stumbling, and Brice would have to make do with supporting him as best he could.
The sky burst bright with lightning, the flash tinged green under the canopy of the trees. Silhouettes bulged with possible creatures, and outstretched limbs looked just like branches. The trees were alive.
Tris slipped again, falling to one knee and swinging his other leg out behind his body. It struck Brice on his shin, and he staggered into Tris’ back, pushing him further down. There was a squelch as Tris’ hand sunk into the mud.
“Watch it!” Tris said, not turning. He pushed himself up as Brice backed off.
Brice bit his lip. He wouldn’t say anything. An apology rose in his mind, but he cut that off. Why the hell should he apologise for Tris slipping?
This would have been so much easier on his own. Brice had watched Tris set the system up on the hold-out roof, and there was nothing to it. And the switch he was so worried about? It was mechanical. Faulty lattice or not, there was no way he could screw that up.
Data-monkey shouldn’t have been so conceited to think nobody else could do that little bit of the job. He was inflating his own importance, as usual. Bloody idiot.
“How close are we?” Brice asked.
“Close. Shut up and let me follow the map.”
The path twisted and turned, but continued to climb. Brice’s boot sunk down in the mud, and it squelched as he pulled it free, sounding like a gasp, or a hiss. And maybe it was the sound from the things in the trees.
Then the path widened, and Brice smiled at that. The trees were a good few paces away now. Far enough that one of those things would have to jump into the light to reach him.
One tried, but both Brice and Tris swung their torches at the same time, Tris screaming some kind of childish war-cry. The creature staggered, its body steaming, and fell back into the trees. Tris took a step closer, and Brice was about to say something when the creature stood and ran, further into the forest.
“And don’t bother coming back!” Tris yelled. He smiled, and puffed his chest out as he nodded to Brice. “They’re not so tough after all,” he said as they set off once more.
Brice didn’t share Tris’ confidence. The torches worked, but what if they broke? Or what if so many of the creatures burst out of the trees?
Then they arrived at the ramp, and Tris uttered a triumphant “Yes!”
The ramp was wide enough for four to walk abreast, and led up to the landing pad, a couple of metres above the surrounding ground. The edges of the pad were steep, so only the ramp gave access. It was smooth, and the rain had coated it in a layer of mud.
Brice leaned into it, pushing with his legs, and his boots slid. He reached forward, grabbing clumps of grass with his hand and pulling hard. By his side, Tris struggled, grunting each time he dug a foot into the mud and pulled with whatever he could find. But Brice was stronger, and he overtook, settling into a rhythm, letting the torches around his wrists fly freely. He breathed with his steps, or stepped with his breaths, and he quickened his pace, refusing to give his feet time to slide.
He reached the top first—of course—and scanned, torches an arm’s length from his body. The landing pad itself was large enough to take a couple of craft, and was flat and muddy. The trees started some distance back, but their upper branches reached across the pad, pushed in by the storm. Overhead, Brice could no longer distinguish clouds from the night sky.
Tris staggered up to the top. Brice considered holding a hand out to help, but Tris was bound to take that the wrong way.
“This is?” he asked, and Tris glared at him.
“Course it is. Come on.” He stormed off, to the centre of the pad. Brice trailed behind, keeping an eye and both torches on the surrounding forest.
Tris slid his pack off, opened it and removed the equipment. “I need your pack as well.”
Brice shuffled it off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. He continued watching the trees, walking in a tight circle. Tris muttered something, and Brice heard canvas, then clicks as data-boy slotted boosters and relays into place. After a few more rotations, Brice glanced down and saw a red glow.
“Just checking. Give it a chance.”
There was movement by the ramp. Brice
