They sped down another couple of flights, Traejan, one hand gripping his gun, the other his transceiver. When they reached the next doorway, he tried again.

“Nur bek Nur,” he called out over the link, breathing heavily. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t know,” the man replied. “Peca said he hear –said he saw something – ran off.”

“Peca, Peca!” Traejan called over the link. “Did he shut off his transceiver?”

“Don’t know,” Nur bek Nur replied. “His signal just cut out.”

Visions of the horror three years ago danced in his head. He and Goa shone their beams ahead, seeing nothing but more empty corridor.

“Where are you?”

“In a control room,” Nur bek Nur replied. “What’s left of it.”

“Stay there,” he told the man. “We’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

He hurried down the corridor, followed by Goa.

Seeing the light shining out from the control room, he relaxed a bit, turned the corner. Looking through the door, he could see the man shining his light towards them. The room was like the one above: gutted, with only scraps remaining either littering the floor, or hanging from wall and ceiling.

“Can…hear me?” he could barely make out Althea’s voice over the static.

“Boost your signal,” he told her. “Peca is missing.”

“Any sign of bots…?”

He turned to Nur bek Nur. The man shrugged.

“…can’t hear anything from Nur,” she complained.

Traejan looked back over at the man.

“Is your transceiver working?”

The man tried his, then shook his head.

“Dead.”

Traejan swore.

“Our transceivers are dying,” he told Althea. “We’ll try to find Peca – come up.”

“…careful,” he heard. More walls, floors – weaker signals – Damn tech!

They spread out in the corridor, looking for signs of Peca’s trail. There wasn’t a lot of water on the floor, so the man’s footsteps weren’t obvious. The thermal imagers he and Kyso had used at the mirror port hadn’t survived Althea’s rescue.

“We should split up,” Nur suggested when they reached a cross corridor.

“No!” Traejan told them sharply. There was not going to be a repeat of last time. “We stay together.”

A sharp sound echoed – Gunfire? Traejan couldn’t identify the source, couldn’t tell the direction. He stared around, anxiety rising.

“Where did that come from?”

The others looked around. Goa pointed to the right.

“I’m sure,” he confirmed.

Traejan urged them to be quiet as they headed down the corridor. He held his gun out arm extended, along with his lamp, spotted a crushed bit of ice covering a puddle. He pointed it out to the others, continued further, heard a noise from up ahead – indistinct, muffled.

Again, they reached a crossing of corridors, looked left, right. Goa pointed left. Traejan nodded. As they traveled, they heard noise again, rhythmic, echoing, getting louder.

“It’s coming from up the way,” Goa advised, on the right. “It’s close.”

Traejan motioned them to move up against the wall. The cold, rough surface hard against his back as he sidled up to the corner. The rhythmic sound came closer. His grip tightened on his gun as he got closer to the corner.

Could be footsteps… Or? His breath was coming in short gasps; could hear his heart beating in his ear. He was just a step from the corner, heard the other two moving close beside him, turned back.

“Ready,” he whispered. They nodded. He set his torch for a wide throw.

Traejan edged around the corner, turned, ready to fire; ready for anything that would show up in the light – then swore.

Peca stared at him, surprised, no weapon up, but three scrawny, furry things hanging from his left hand. He put a hand up to shield his eyes, then held up the bundle.

“What’s the problem?” he said. “Look, fresh protein!”

“Idiot,” Nur bek Nur muttered.

“Are you even aware that your transceiver is dead?” Traejan wanted to know.

“It is?” Peca pulled out his transceiver, started tapping it.

Nur glanced back at Traejan, shaking his head in disgust.