“How are you doing, Brice?” Keelin asked. He nodded, because he didn’t really know.
The Proteus shuddered and the light flickered.
“Storm’s not letting up,” Nyle said, then looked up. “At least it helped wash those things off the roof.”
Brice thought of the severed arm. “None up there now?” he asked.
“Some hung on for a while, but I guess it was too slippery.” Nyle’s voice was a monotone
“Slippery everywhere in this weather,” Brice said, remembering the river of mud, and the landing pad ramps. He remembered how he’d staggered while carrying Cathal, and how the blanket got caught round his feet.
And now he remembered Osker dragging Cathal into the Proteus, and how Cathal’s skin had been burning in the light.
The blankets were standard issue, from the hold-out. But a Proteus was a crew’s home-from-home. The quarters were personalised. Keelin had her red-lined fleece topper. Ryann had her brilliant white bedding.
None of them had a blanket that looked as grey and nondescript as the two on Cathal. Correction—the one on Cathal.
And the one on this Proteus. The one in the overflowing storage space. The blanket that looked like it had been soaking in mud. Or something worse.
The room spun, and Brice grabbed the back of Keelin’s chair.
“What is it?” she said.
Brice turned to the door of the bridge. He swallowed.
“We didn’t get rid of them all,” he said.
Ryann knew they were not alone. As soon as Nyle got them airborne, and the creatures clinging to the hull had fallen, a single trace remained.
She didn’t believe it would attack while the lights were on sol. She’d sussed Nyle, telling him to keep that setting, at least for the moment. She said it was a comfort.
She knew he didn’t believe her. But, even though this was his craft, she outranked him. He could question her, but he couldn’t deny her request. Especially not when her crew outnumbered his.
She hated the coldness of that thought. Lives should never be reduced to simple numbers. Besides, she didn’t even know the numbers for her own crew. Cathal was alive, but for how much longer? And Tris—until she knew for certain, he was in limbo.
She had not asked Brice what happened, and her lack of knowledge, her lack of understanding, left a hollowness inside. But how could she expect him to talk, after everything that had happened? He’d been running on nervous energy the whole time he cleaned, and she’d only kept him at those tasks because he needed time. He needed to work the adrenaline from his system.
But she wanted him out of the way as quickly as possible. There had been too many casualties already—not only Tris missing, but Osker too. She didn’t want to lose anyone else. She needed Keelin, Brice and Nyle to be safe.
So when Brice finished tidying, and when he sealed the door to the bridge behind him, she smiled. Because finally she was alone. Only herself and Cathal.
And the creature hiding under the blanket.
It hadn’t moved yet, but she could sense it waiting. There was a taste of uncertainty, but no fear.
Of course it didn’t fear Ryann. Remove the protecting light, and she was weak. The creature was powerful. Its claws could tear her flesh. Its fangs could rip her to pieces. It was a thing devoid of life, little more than a machine.
But it had life once. If Arela’s hints were true, that thing had been a person. Like Cathal. But the company had treated it like an object, and had turned it into something damned.
It would be a blessing for that poor creature if she could end its suffering.
And she knew how this could happen. She could open the hatch, using her position to override any fail-safes Nyle had in place. She could coax it to the edge, and she could push it out. Or she could grab it and jump.
Her face pulled tight, her mouth parched and her throat tight. The thought of throwing herself from the Proteus went against everything she held dear.
Yet it made perfect sense. Safety and survival of the majority. If she were to go—to die—while removing that thing, then four people returned to Haven. If she didn’t try, maybe none of them would make it.
<Ryann?> Keelin sussed, her voice unsteady. <You alone back there?>
<Just me and Cathal.> Strange how easy it was to lie at a time like this. Maybe because she wanted Keelin out of her head. She needed to be alone. <Why?>
<Brice thinks we’ve got company.> The tremor in Keelin’s voice was unmistakable.
Brice didn’t think, he knew. She’d seen the way he glanced at the blanket, hadn’t she? He was smart enough to have figured things out.
<I’m fine,> she sussed back. That wasn’t a total lie. Compared to how she could be, she was in great shape.
The Proteus lurched, and the lighting flickered. Ryann told herself it was nothing to worry about. Just the storm, and a patch of turbulence. Nyle had been through a lot. She couldn’t expect a smooth ride home.
And the blanket moved.
It unfolded out of the storage unit and glided towards the centre of the room. Patches of the cloth were dark and wet, and Ryann could smell the earthy mustiness of it, and beneath that the rancid stench of the creature itself.
The same smell that came from Cathal’s wound. Her hand pressed down on him, sensitive to the soft rise and fall of his chest.
The creature must be crouching, she realised. At full height, blanket would be almost on the ceiling. But that would leave its lower legs exposed. It was keeping itself covered.
How had it figured out to use the blanket for protection? Had it seen how they covered Cathal? Or was it an old memory, from when…from before it became what it now was?
The blanket stretched forward, as if the creature wanted a closer look at Ryann. She heard shuffling, like it was sniffing her out.
But it didn’t
