46: Brice
Brice
Brice focused, did his best to ignore the throbbing behind his eyes. He folded his bunk away and paced. Three steps to the door, turn, three steps to the wall, turn, repeat. It kept his body moving, kept the noise at bay, helped him concentrate.
He knew the boat, marked where voices came from. Knew Storm was on the bridge, alone—she’d told Helm to take a break. The boat ran on auto, and she stood over the console, staring out of the window, even though her eyes took nothing in.
She looked inward. She planned.
Brice located others. Mouse was in the galley. Joy was in her quarters, rising from sleep. Grip was on deck, with a few others—should’ve been working, but they were lounging about, talking.
And Storm knew about them. She saw them as the core threat—those th
