<Noted. Keelin?>
<Becoming too attached to the Proteus. You heard how she turned to Tris earlier? It’s not like her to use sarcasm.>
<What do I need to watch for?>
<Not sure. I’ll monitor.>
<As always. Brice?>
Ryann paused. It wasn’t like him to be this slow.
<Brice?> she sussed. <You there?>
<Yeah.>
<You sent your scan?>
<Course.> Then, after a pause, <Resending now. You got it?>
It came through, with a marker that indicated a physical push. That was strange, maybe worrying. Normally, the lattice pushed the scan her way as soon as it was completed.
<Received. Everything okay?>
<We’ve just gone over the Tumbler in a Proteus with glitching power, and we’re in the middle of the biggest storm of the season so far. I’m peachy.>
He wasn’t, but at least he was trying to keep his spirits up.
Ryann perused his scan before reporting to Cathal, although she was unsure how to phrase this.
<First glance, Brice’s scan seems fine. But he had to push. And I couldn’t reach him when we went over the fall.>
<Be specific. Dark?>
<Felt that way.>
<He turned his lattice off because he was scared?>
<Doubtful. I think it was involuntary.>
Cathal paused. <That’s not good.>
<No.>
Ryann knew that was potential trouble.
Going dark was part of training, and some people even liked the sensation. But that was a conscious decision. When a lattice failed, it was usually during tweaking, when medics and tech teams would be on hand to reboot. A lattice fail in the field could be catastrophic. Ryann had only heard of two such incidents, and both resulted in fatalities.
<He aware he went dark?>
<Can’t see how he wasn’t.>
<But he’s keeping it to himself.>
If Brice was going dark, that would impact the whole crew.
<I’ll keep a close eye on him,> she sussed, even though that didn’t feel like it would be enough. <What about you, Cathal? You okay?>
<You tell me.>
Ryann knew he was smiling. She glanced through his scan, although it told her little she didn’t already know.
<Calm. Analysing. I’m sure you’re planning our next move.> That was a fairly standard assessment, but his playfulness was masking worries. She needed to help him. <Bit of an adrenaline spike earlier—probably understandable, and I’m sure it was as much to do with concern for the crew as for your own well-being.> Ryann allowed her tone to lift; an equivalent of a wry grin.
Cathal didn’t respond instantly. He shook with a silent laugh.
<You know, for a clinical tracker, you can be far too smooth at times, Miss Harris. Far too smooth.>
And there it was—his inner warmth. He wouldn’t allow the rest of the crew to see it, but if Ryann could coax that from him, she knew he was at ease with himself. If she could keep the troubles of his command from clouding his thoughts, then he could lead them to safety.
Ryann smiled. Cathal was in control, and she had faith in him.
When the Proteus came to rest, Brice let his fingers relax, wondering when he’d gripped the arm rests so tightly.
His neck was sore. His lattice reported mild whiplash, and it was already firing impulses to correct any damage. There was a bruise on his arm, and he had no recollection of when that happened.
Brice looked around the cabin. The light was dim, like they were on emergency power. The Proteus lay on its side, and although Keelin and Tris were still in front of Brice’s seat, Ryann was now underneath him. If his restraint gave, he’d land on top of her. He doubted she’d look so calm then.
But as she analysed their scans—and Brice was annoyed he had to push his—she seemed relaxed. She even smiled at one point.
“Keelin, report.” Cathal’s voice was loud, but only because there were no other sounds in the cabin.
“Just completing diagnostic.” She looked uncomfortable, with her hair falling away to the side of her head. “Full report logged.”
“Give us a verbal summary.”
“Resting on the river bed, mixture of rock and mud, so unstable.” Keelin’s voice was flat. “Completely submerged. Out of the main flow, roughly twenty metres from the nearest bank.”
“And the Proteus?”
Keelin took a long breath before answering. “Hull holding, but the data contains anomalies. Not too sure what that means. Power’s…temperamental. Some of the data streams are elusive.”
“I don’t need uncertainty, Keelin.”
“Sorry. This baby’s hurting. It’s like she doesn’t want me prodding where she’s injured. It’s like she’s curling up on herself.”
It annoyed Brice when Keelin talked like the craft was sentient. The Proteus was a piece of kit, all tech. The river was more alive than this hunk of metal.
“Okay. This is what we do,” Cathal said. “Keelin—keep working on the craft, see what you can do. Tris—work on the systems, focusing on contact with Haven. Ryann—check externals. Brice—cabin, manual check.”
Ryann’s head jerked towards Cathal. It must’ve been a private suss.
“And Brice.”
“Cathal?”
“Keep in contact. Report anything.”
“Will do.” He looked around the bridge. “Once I get there.”
Cathal nodded, and then his eyes glazed as he retreated into his lattice, doing whatever he did while the others worked. And the others sat almost as motionless, all working internally. He was the only one who needed to leave his seat. Typical.
And with the Proteus on its side, this wasn’t going to be easy.
He grabbed the seat with his hands and tensed his body. He told his lattice to release the restraints slowly.
“You want me to move?” Ryann asked. Brice looked down at her. She had one eyebrow raised, but didn’t look worried that he’d fall.
Tris shuffled in his seat, turning to watch.
The easiest thing would be to ask Ryann to move, and then he could drop. But where would be the fun in that?
Beneath her, the hull of the craft was a smooth wall. Smooth enough to walk on.
“No need,” he answered. “Could do with the exercise.”
His restraints parted, and he gripped his seat as he swung his legs, building momentum. And then he released.
Brice’s boots hit the wall with
