[The HARE leaps over and gives Daley a hard punch to the chest with one of its plungers. Surprised by the sudden blow, Daley rolls away from Taban and skids a meter away across the ice. The HARE leans over and checks Taban’s vitals.]

Taban: What the fuck?!

HARE: Are you injured?

Taban: No—I don’t think so—

[He sits up, seemingly unharmed, and looks around in a furious panic. Daley is scrambling to his knees.]

Taban (shouting): What the fuck is wrong with you?!

[Daley doesn’t answer. Instead he stands and stumbles off into the storm like a panicky animal in flight. He stays low to the ground, almost on his hands and knees. Taban tries to follow him but loses his balance and lands back on his rear.]

Taban: Seriously, what the fuck?

HARE: Should we follow USER Daley?

Taban: No! Fuck that crazy asshole! He’s lost it! We’re going back to the fucking ship—

[Again he tries to stand, and again he loses his balance. The HARE zooms in on his faceplate.]

HARE: There is a breach in your helmet.

[Taban claps a gloved hand over the area where Daley struck him.]

Taban: Shit, seriously? Where?

[The HARE examines his faceplate even more closely. It’s hard to see in the dark, but there is the tiniest chip in the thick gold surface of the helmet. Within that, a crack as thin as a spider’s web.]

Taban (anxiously): I’ve—I’ve got emergency sealant. Just tell me where to point it.

[With the HARE’s help, Taban manages to fumble open a tiny tube of sealant from one of his pockets and clumsily slathers it over the crack in his helmet. He checks his medical readout.]

Taban: Am I going to die?

HARE: Your biology does not seem to have been adversely affected by outside elements. But the breach has depleted your oxygen to dangerous levels.

Taban: Meaning?

HARE: You are not poisoned or irradiated, but you might suffocate.

Taban: Thanks.

HARE: You are fortunate that de-pressurization did not do irreparable damage to your ocular receptors or brain.

Taban: Yeah, real fortunate. So we need to get back to the ship ASAP, right?

HARE: Yes.

Taban: Okay, let’s go.

HARE: What about USER Daley?

Taban: Forget about that fucker. He’s on his own.

[Unsteadily, he raises himself to his feet. The HARE leans against his side to act as leverage, allowing Taban to use its box-head as a crutch. They begin walking back in the direction they came. Daley is nowhere to be seen.]

Taban: Why the hell would he do that? Was he luring us out here?

HARE: I do not know.

Taban: And where is he going?

HARE: I do not know. The chances of mortality are very high.

Taban: For him, you mean.

HARE: Yes.