16: Brice
Brice
They put Brice in a room carved from rock. The floor was smooth but the walls and roof were rough, all angular and discoloured. The door was metal and thick, the crash of it closing echoing around the cell for a long time.
Dim light fell from a strip in the middle of the roof, enough to see the metal bucket in the corner, and the threadbare bed-roll on the floor. It might provide some insulation from the cold, but that was about it.
He was trapped. He was Kaiahive’s prisoner once again. They watched, from sensors embedded in the rock.
Brice sat on the bed-roll, shuffled to find a relatively comfortable position for his back, and closed his eyes.
And relaxed.
Stress wouldn’t help. He was a prisoner, which meant they wanted him alive—for the moment, at least. He doub
