He led the way to the hatch, stopping only to procure hand lamps from the storage locker. “Going to need these,” he told Soukup as the Four rose from their seats and took positions behind the IG.

In Fenn’s mind, Freelander was spooky enough without those weird human cyborgs trailing along behind. All but the Fourth. The guy reminded Fenn of an assassin in search of a victim. It was something about the packed muscle and flat planes of his face around that knobby nose and stone-cold eyes.

Nevertheless, he swallowed hard, led the way to the lock, and powered it through the shuttle, explaining, “There’s no power on the other side. The shuttle deck is mostly dead. There’s still power to a couple of the lights, but that was jury-rigged by the Turalon crew on their last visit.”

“Why hasn’t it been fixed?” Soukup asked. “That would seem a priority for the Supervisor.”

“It was,” Fenn snapped. “Didn’t last. And you can’t get anybody to work up here.”

“Kalico Aguila is a Board Supervisor. Her word should carry enough weight.” Soukup had his flat stare fixed on Fenn. The First, recording it all with that distant gaze, turned Fenn’s stomach cold.

“Yeah, right.” He cycled the hatch, leading the IG into the waiting room beyond. Overhead, the sole working light panel flickered. The flashing came randomly, out of sync with reality, to illuminate the lines of seats off to the side and cast jumping shadows in the murk. The floor had that same thin layer of filth scattered with bits of trash. In the corner was a moldering rag that had once been overalls. The air carried the unforgettable dank odor of dust, decay, and decomposed sweat. But most of all, Fenn disliked the corners. A simple joining of the walls, why were they always darker than the rest of the room?

Tagging along, the First was scanning back and forth, recording the room. Soukup’s expression had pinched; his usually composed face showed the first trace of doubt.

At the far hatch, Fenn pointed out the control box. “Don’t bother. Ship’s AI is dead. Freelander’s crew cut it out with a torch. Chopped the N-dimensional qubit matrix up with an ax. Whatever. Fact is, being condemned to this hulk for what they thought was eternity, they went kind of crazy.”

“So, there is no interaction? No communication with records?” Soukup asked.

“Nothing you haven’t already seen. When Turalon went back the first time, she took everything known. Not that anyone’s wild to look, but there have been no journals, diaries, or hidden records recovered.” Fenn winced. “Not that anybody’s been keen to search this hulk for them.”

Then he led the way into the corridor beyond, flicking on his hand lamp to illuminate the dark corridor. “Stay close,” he ordered. “Weird shit happens from here on out.”