<Understood.>
There was a lull, and then Ryann came back.
<And I don’t want you going melancholy on us, Cathal.>
<Not the time or place.>
<Exactly. Leave that for later.>
That meant absolutely nothing to Brice.
Another drop of water landed on his forehead.
<We’re taking in water!> he yelled. <Main hatch. Keelin, you reading this?>
There was no response. He heard more technobabble between Keelin and Tris, like they were talking in another language. There was something about hull integrity, and they both sounded worried.
Brice considered sussing again, but what was the point? They couldn’t hear him. It was like he existed in his own bubble back here.
That must be it. With the Proteus running on emergency power, and all its systems playing up, there must be interference. The craft itself was blocking his messages.
Brice returned to the bridge, trying to ignore the obvious—if they couldn’t hear him, how could he hear them?
“Welcome back, Brice. Pleasant break?”
Brice kept his voice level, countering the sarcasm. “We’ve got a breach.”
That got their attention. Keelin spun in her chair, and Cathal looked round with one eye cocked. Even Tris turned.
“Main hatch. Possibly damage to the outer door, and water’s pooling. It’s starting to seep through the inner door.”
Keelin’s eyes glazed over for a second. “Of course,” she said to herself, and her shoulders sagged.
“How serious?” Cathal turned to his pilot.
“Getting readings. Don’t want to pull power from core functions.”
“We’re not going to have those core functions if it’s flooded,” Brice said.
“Bit of water won’t hurt it,” said Tris, and Brice caught his sneer.
“Maybe. How long can you hold your breath?”
<Behave. You’re professionals.> This came from Ryann, and Brice didn’t know if it was wide, or targeted just to himself and Tris. But he nodded. She was right. This wasn’t the time for the tech-monkey to get all superior.
“Keelin?” Cathal asked.
“Data now in. Situation serious, but not dire. The flow is increasing, and the breach widening. At current rates, the hatch will fill in twenty minutes, and increased pressure will widen the gap in the inner door. Rough estimate, forty to fifty minutes before we’re swimming.”
“So under an hour of air left.”
“Going on current data, yes.”
“And power? That going to get back up any time soon?”
Brice saw Keelin hesitate, and turn to Tris, who shrugged.
“Seems unlikely.”
Brice took in a breath and held it before releasing. He felt the twin thuds of his heartbeat, and he suppressed the release of adrenaline. He didn’t need that yet.
Cathal brought a hand up to his chin with the sandpaper rustle of skin over bristles.
“Keelin, open prediction—what can we expect from the Proteus?”
Keelin shook her head. “I’ve never seen her like this. She needs help, more than I can give her. Without that, she’ll slip into deep sleep. Maybe a few hours, maybe a couple of minutes.”
“I thought these things were tough?” Brice fought to control his anger. “Aren’t they supposed to be able to withstand just about anything? What about all that crap about how they’re tested in lava and zero atmospheres, and flown at mountainsides to make sure they survive? A tumble down a waterfall should be nothing.”
He felt Ryann’s eyes on him, but he kept his own on Keelin. Unfair, he knew, but he needed a focus. And she met his gaze with coldness.
“It should be. But the systems are electrical at core. A lightning strike can play havoc with that.”
“And they didn’t think to protect against that?”
“They did! When this baby came off the production line, she was perfect. But she’s old. You know how it goes. You know how the company cuts corners.”
“So we’re screwed because some bean counter didn’t want to spend too much?”
“What, you think you’re worth anything to Kaiahive?” She spat out the company’s name.
“That’s enough!” Ryann held a hand out, a thin barrier between Brice and Keelin. It was enough to make him take a step back.
“That’s life,” Cathal said. “Get used to it. They make the decisions, we cope with the fall-out. That’s what they pay us for.” He looked from Brice to Keelin and back again. “Or are you only doing this for the thrill of it?”
Brice didn’t need to answer. Nor did Keelin. Cathal continued.
“Situation’s this. Lightning screwed up our Proteus, and we’re taking on water. Storm’s worsening, and it’s already dark enough for night. We need to exit, and we need to be prepared. Ryann, take Brice and sort out kit. Tris, you work with Keelin.”
Tris nodded, and swallowed.
“Tell me,” Cathal said. “Tell me what we need to do.”
Brice knew. They all did. It was part of the training, but nobody expected to have to use it for real.
Tris avoided everyone’s eyes as he spoke. “We need to flood the Proteus.”
Ryann eased herself from her chair, joining Brice on the wall.
She could tell he was scared. He wouldn’t admit that, even to himself, but the signs were there—dilated pupils, the flickering movements of his face, the way his fingers twitched when he talked. And, of course, there was his anger. She felt it rolling off him, but it was undirected. He was searching for a reason, for something to be angry at. And that was unhealthy.
<Keep me informed,> Cathal sussed.
<Will do.>
She met Brice’s eyes and tilted her head to the open door. He nodded and climbed smoothly. Of course he did. Physicality was his speciality. If she could keep him moving, he’d stay calm.
In the cabin, she reached up to seal the door, but Brice put his own hand in the way, cupping the sensor without triggering it.
“Can we leave the door open?” he said. “I think it was stopping communication before. Interference or something.”
“Of course.” She pulled her own hand back. The door might muffle sound, but it was not a barrier to communication. Brice looked away, and Ryann sensed there was more he wanted to say.
She wouldn’t push him. She’d give him time to collect his thoughts. She’d give him a nudge later.
“Let’s get started,” she said, moving to the storage units.
