Two
1162 Words
Two
Ryann felt everything.
The moment the lightning struck—because that surely was what had happened—her lattice switched to hyper-sensitivity. The illusion of time slowed as she analysed all inputs.
The Proteus slammed into the water. It twisted, almost lazily, and the engines spluttered. Keelin cried out inside. Ryann felt her mind shift as she dived into the craft’s controls. Tris flared with anger and panic. He wasn’t controlling his adrenaline, but letting it consume him.
she sussed, giving him the distraction he needed.
Cathal’s heart-rate jumped, but he forced a barrier up, sealing his emotions until later.
The craft tilted to port, a down-draft pushing from the stern. They faced up-stream, and Ryann saw the water push the Proteus’ nose, forcing them towards the waterfall.
Brice was dark, and that was a concern. When Ryann pushed, there was only the suggestion of a lattice. It was like trying to grab at mist.
The hull creaked as their nose lifted, water forcing the Proteus upright. She dug into the data, and read how their stern was trapped against a tangle of rock and a web of wood. The river pushed them vertical, and for a second they teetered, the craft groaning in complaint.
And then they fell.
The seat restraints pinned Ryann in place, and for a moment she was weightless. Then, the Proteus spinning, pressure drove into her chest, and a roar filled her ears. She gripped the arm-rests, and found it hard to swallow.
They tumbled, over and over. The sensors showed the swirling water, angry streaks of foaming white amid the darkness. Then the sensors cut out, and the Proteus lost power.
Ryann closed her eyes.
There was nothing they could do. The water pummelled them from all sides. She felt collisions, and heard hideous scraping sounds—other debris smashing against them. And within the bridge, when she pushed out to the others, all she tasted was their fear, sharp and pungent.
And then they shot forward, with such force that Ryann feared she would lose consciousness. She swallowed vomit, her face cold and clammy, and her chest squeezed tight.
But she continued to analyse. She understood how they had been forced along the huge stopper at the base of the waterfall, until they had reached a weaker spot. Then, the force of the water had been released, and they had been rejected into the river.
They spun, but gently now. The water tilted them at times, and now they rolled and tilted to starboard, and came to a stop with a grinding crunch of metal on rock.
The fear from the crew settled, and relief pushed it down. She heard breath being forced from between pursed lips, and the stuttered shaking of something close to laughter.
They’d survived the Tumbler.
Cathal sussed, wide to the whole crew.
That was from Keelin, and Ryann knew it was a flippant mask for her true emotions. But it meant she was fighting. It meant she was not giving in to the fear and panic that—if her high adrenaline signals were anything to go by—was still coursing through her. Ryann read the twitches of her hands and fingers, as if she were pressing buttons and swiping screens, and she knew Keelin was running through checks on the Proteus. Doing what any good pilot would do after an emergency landing.
Cathal sussed.
That calmed Tris. Cathal knew what he was doing, slipping into routine when things went awry. Known tasks gave the illusion of control, if nothing else.
The scans came to her, and Ryann stored them after giving each a brief but intense read.
Cathal’s voice was clearer when he sussed directly, cutting the others out.
It took her a couple of seconds to summarise each report.
Ryann paused. It wasn’t like him to be this slow.
she sussed.
Then, after a pause,
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.
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.
Cathal paused.
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.
If Brice was going dark, that would impact the whole crew.
she sussed, even though that didn’t feel like it would be enough.
Ryann knew he was smiling. She glanced through his scan, although it told her little she didn’t already know.
That was a fairly standard assessment, but his playfulness was masking worries. She needed to help him. Ryann allowed her tone to lift; an equivalent of a wry grin.
Cathal didn’t respond instantly. He shook with a silent laugh.
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.
- Writer
