Four
Brice got no response. He tried telling himself the dampness beneath his hand was just sweat, but he’d never been good at lying to himself.
He closed his eyes, the misty green after-image in his lenses fading to a washed-out black.
It was Keelin. She sounded fraught.
That was Tris, although the words made little sense to Brice. He guessed it was to do with calling Haven.
Brice swore under his breath, and shouted back at her.
He connected to the sensors within the hatch. At first they slipped from his grip, but he focused and held them, zooming into the monochrome image. The water—and he couldn’t pretend it was anything else now—flowed with mercurial slivers from outer to inner hatch. And where it started there was a kink in the metal. It was the slightest of misalignments,
