“Did he say anything about the weather?” Ryann asked, keeping things light.
“Said the storm’s getting worse. But he says it’s better to fly than to be cooped up in a concrete box.”
“They know about our power issues? They know they can’t come to the front door?”
“Told them. They didn’t seem too surprised. Seems everyone’s having glitches. Even Haven’s ready to switch to back-up systems.”
Ryann glanced at the blanket covering Cathal. Even on back-up, Haven would keep medical facilities running. All she had to do was get her crew back. When Nyle and Osker landed, they’d get Cathal on board, and they’d all get back to the base.
As long as Tris and Brice turned up on time.
She pushed, through the relay on the roof.
<Tris? How’s things?> She kept it conversational. <How long before you’re back?>
There was no reply.
<Tris? Brice? You receiving?>
Keelin’s voice joined in, and Ryann cursed herself for keeping communications wide. <You two need to get back here. Help’s on its way.>
Nothing.
Ryann pushed further, and there was something. It wasn’t tangible, but she caught a trace, so faint that it almost didn’t exist.
“How come we can’t reach them?” Keelin’s face was pale. Ryann shook her head and held up a hand. That wouldn’t comfort Keelin, but Ryann needed to concentrate.
She followed the phantom trace, and it had the flavour of decay. It reminded her of Cathal’s wound, and of…yes…the creatures. More than one trace, and she was only able to feel them because they were tight together. Like they had the same purpose.
And in their midst, a more familiar signal. But it was smothered. Either that, or it was guarding itself from detection.
Just like Cathal’s lattice actively repelled her.
She focused, and sussed as tightly as she could. <Tris, if you can hear me, respond. Are you okay?>
He wasn’t. And he didn’t respond. But the hidden signal flared up, a brilliant burst that died as soon as it erupted, and Ryann thought of a hand thrust out by a drowning man.
“Ryann?” The word was drawn out, and Keelin was shaking, her hands clenched tight against her chest. The smile was far from her face now.
Ryann opened her arms, and the girl flung herself into them. She trembled as Ryann held her.
“It’s going to be alright,” she said. “We can’t assume anything.”
“You reached him?” The voice was muffled, and was followed by a sniff.
“Enough to know that he’s still alive.” But saying those words gave no comfort. If he was alive but unresponsive, what did that mean?
Ryann looked over to Cathal. “We can’t assume anything,” she repeated. “We can’t jump to conclusions.”
But that was exactly what Keelin would be doing. Ryann knew, because she was doing the same.
Keelin’s body was warm, and Ryann squeezed. She didn’t want to let go. She couldn’t face losing anyone else.
Neither of them spoke. Keelin’s trembling slowed. There was an occasional sniff.
It was important to grab these moments of calm, Ryann told herself.
Then Keelin pulled away, rubbing red eyes, and her warmth was replaced by a chill. Ryann didn’t want to let her go. But she did.
“Sorry,” the girl said, and looked down. She looked so young. And Ryann felt so old.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Ryann felt the words almost choke in her throat. She hadn’t realised how close she’d been to tears, too. But that would be for later, in private. She had to stay strong. For Keelin.
The girl glanced up then, and her eyes were wide. But Ryann recognised the glazed look of someone sussing.
“Nyle,” she said in explanation. “Half-way here. You want to talk?”
Ryann wondered if that was Keelin’s suggestion, or Nyle’s request. “Sure.”
Keelin nodded, and Ryann felt the communication channel open, the trace of a new lattice fresh in her mind. The signal, like all Haven personnel, was in her records.
<This is Ryann Harris,> she sussed, keeping to full-name protocol before switching to something more informal. <How’s it going, Nyle?>
<This storm’s a bitch for flying, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Hear you’ve got a bit of a problem. How you holding up?>
<Better for hearing you. How far out?>
<Should be with you in a couple of minutes. How do you want to play this? I understand you can’t get out.>
<Not through the front.> Ryann thought, and looked over to Cathal, then to the rear door. <But we’ll get out. Land on the pad and light a path for us. Use all your arcs.>
<Yeah, I’ve got that. Sol setting, right?>
<That’s the one.>
<No problem. See you in a bit.>
Ryann cut communication, and Keelin looked at her with a quizzical expression.
“We can’t go out there,” she said. “Brice and Tris…we can’t leave them. And we can’t carry Cathal. Not through the hatch. We need the main door.”
Ryann nodded slowly. They were fair points, and she had not ignored them. But she had to think about this logically. She had to consider what was right for the crew. Cathal’s crew. Her crew.
She spoke as the thoughts formed in her mind, choosing her words with deliberation. “Keelin, we don’t know what’s happened to Tris and Brice. We do know they were on their way back, and if they’re lost out there, we have a better chance of finding them with a Proteus.” Yes, that made good sense. Keelin swallowed but dipped her head a couple of times. “And no, we can’t head out the front. So we need to leave via the emergency hatch. All three of us.”
She looked over to the blanket, so motionless that it was hard to imagine Cathal still breathed under there. While he had breath, he had life. But even if he didn’t, he was her commander. He was a part of her crew. She could not leave Cathal behind.
He was her responsibility now.
“I’ll carry him,” she said. And that, finally, felt like the right decision.
Brice walked on, because the only other option was to stop, and if he did that his legs would not want to
