The coughing fit was loud.

So loud it managed to cover my own choking noises as I fought to not join in. Just barely.

"Geez, Perc!" A second voice said as the coughing shifted to a wheezy rasp, "You wanna give me a heart attack or something?! Give a guy some warning before you go screaming at him. It's the middle of the night!"

The first voice, Perc, replied. His voice was seething with barely suppressed annoyance as he spoke, "What are you, an idiot? Golrich is on the warpath and you're down here about to get us on his shit list again?!"

"Yeah? Well, what Golrich doesn't know ain't gonna hurt him," the second voice said. A long plume of smoke drifted in as Smokey, his name until I heard otherwise, took another long drag of his cigarette. He exhaled, making the words like a long sigh as he spoke, "And so long as you don't say anything, likely won't hurt you either."

There was a long pause as I imagined the looks being traded. Smokey with his likely beady, squinty eyes, and Perc, with tightened lips which barely contained his irritation at the situation.

"I'm no snitch," Perc retorted, "But you're risking both our necks by pulling shit like this when you know they're already pissed off."

I heard Smokey scoff, but he didn't say anything to challenge.

"They'll have both our asses if they find out you waltzed down here taking a break when the rest of us were searching, They want this guy found. Now. Screwing off isn't helping anyone. Especially with McCreed watching us like a hawk up there."

"Hey," Smokey said, a whine in his voice, "I'm searching, Just took some time to take a little break is all."

"I sent you down here to check the maintenance entrance, did you at least do it?" Perc asked.

Cherry red embers scattered as a cigarette spun wildly into view. It hit the ground and bounced several times before rolling slowly toward the upper stairway.

"I was looking for it, I swear. It's right over there, see?" I could imagine Smokey pointing a hand after having flicked the remains of his smoke break toward me. The butt rolled down the stairway, coming to rest only a foot away from my widened eyes as A tiny pillar of smoke twirled in the cold air like A smoke signal. The pillar was starkly visible in the beam of my worklight, like moonlight cast on a plume rising from the side of a lonely mountain. I clicked off my worklight as I fought to control my breathing, mentally making myself as small as I could imagine.

Have you ever tried not to breathe when you think someone can hear you do it? It's difficult. Very, very difficult. Fortunately my runs in the tunnels meant I had some practice.

I kept a hand clamped firmly over my mouth to block any escaping noise as I slowly, achingly rolled over and pushed myself up with one arm.

First milestone achieved: I was now on my feet.

"It's easy enough to find, Pete," Perc said, "The problem is I needed you to confirm nobody went in there. With nowhere else to go, that's about the last place he could've used."

Pete probably rolled his eyes, "How's he even going to get in? It's sealed ain't it?"

"Not all," Perc said, "Only the ones connected to Substation Twenty."

"Why Twenty?" Pete asked, voicing what I also wanted to know.

"You remember that one guy who disappeared, what was his name? Phillip? Herbert?"

"Nah, before my time. I did hear about the tunnels being sealed off because of someone. What happened?"

"Maintenance tech a few years back found some sort of breach, nobody would tell us what, but the word was he screwed up and got himself killed."

"Huh. Well what the hell's down there then?"

"Dunno, and I don't care," Perc said neutrally, "Far as we're concerned, what's behind that door could be filled with liquid copper and I'd still stay the hell away from it."

Pete's voice was suddenly energetic, "Copper?! You really think there's copper down there?!"

There was a pause as I imagined Perc now glaring at Pete in disbelief. "It's marked as a Hazard Five," he said flatly.

"Yeah? So?"

"Five means no air. Nothing down there except Crawler drones and death."

"What about the liquid copper?!"

"Was that seriously all you took from what I said? They said never go anywhere near Substation Twenty and we're right at a junction. You'd have to be an idiot to try."

"I heard you, but I care more about getting Scrit. Tell me about the copper."

"Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"You're an idiot."

Any snarky response Pete might have had was cut short. A trio of crawlers made their way around the bend; Right on schedule.

Hastily sealing my hood, I triggered the door mechanism, which thankfully, and mutely, slid closed. Regardless of what kind of people Perc and Pete might be, I didn't want to risk any future confrontations. It was an easy decision to separate Pete and Perc from a potentially gruesome death. For one...It would've given away my position; Never mind the risks for people habitating in the Pods above.

Given enough time? I wondered how many people the trio of Crawler Drones could kill before someone managed to shut them down. I wasn't even sure if someone had thought to keep the little murder-bots from leaving the confines of the tunnels. One would hope, except I'd seen the way Corpo Coders worked. Branch's corpse was the biggest indicator. Whomever had done the work? Hadn't cared about limits...

Whew.

Yet another random chain of thoughts I wasn't sure I wanted to go down. Quite the trend tonight.

I watched silently as the Crawlers milled about, eventually losing interest as the atmospheric balance returned to deep-tunnel norms. I kept a safe distance as the three turned back; One on the ground, and two on either side of the walls as they took a left and disappeared.

It was the same direction as Branch's remains, and the one I'd originally taken when I'd first gained access to the tunnels. I eyed the wall morosely as something peeked out from the dull greyish hue coating the tunnel walls on that side.

Through the trailed dots of a Crawler's passing, previously obscured by a thick layer of dust and grime, were white lines contrasting along a reddish brown backdrop. I reached out a tentative hand, wiping away the veil of time from a thin metal sheet as my eyes goggled at what I'd missed.

It was a map.

Mounted on the wall and nearly as tall as the ceiling was a fully outlined, descriptively labeled maintenance diagram which showed the tunnels, and connections to nearby junctions. I must've passed by here at least four different times, entirely oblivious to the map's existence as I'd struggled to clear the hurdles of surviving. When I'd first entered the maintenance tunnels, there were a number of obvious pressures forcing my hand to the paths I'd eventually taken.

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I toggled a scan using my optical implant's interface as I poured over the image, hovering my vision over a section labeled SS21a. My eyes, much like my feet, were naturally drawn along a line representing the junction corridor as it merged directly into another hub. I fought the urge not to sigh heavily as I read the label: SS20a.

Perc said they were given specific instructions to avoid Substation Twenty at all costs. The irony wasn't lost on me when I realized the way I'd taken proved to be the ONLY way into the SS20's loop, and all other paths either led away, or to other sections.

Of course I would've chosen the side the drones were on. Great job Price. Fan. Flicking. Tastic.

I pondered for a moment as the scan completed, studying the lines leading rightward as I mentally visualized the Stack lanes I often used from memory. Moving along to the next substation would be advantageous, as there were many cross lanes between the location of my Pod and where the next junction ended.

I nodded to myself, shifting over to be on the move. I'd finally obtained my first, full grasp of a position since I'd arrived. Of the Crawler Drones? Their number became fewer and fewer the further I travelled away from my original junction. In this manner, I came across more of the Drones working as proper maintenance units rather than the much scarier Hunter-Killers as packs of duos and trios gave way to the sounds of clicking, deeper within the sub tunnel side passages.

Armed with a renewed sense of confidence, and the comforting image of the maintenance schematic, I passed a total number of six sub tunnels with nary a Crawler drone in sight.

I hadn't liked being surprised when Perc yelled at Pete. The doorway being opened when I'd been caught entirely unaware, and the danger of making a noise when the smoke hit my lungs, highlighted a very pressing need for future risk assessments.

Information was important. The more information I could gather without alerting anyone outside, the less risk I would be exposed to.

If only I could hear where people were above, I'd be able to...

To...

I stopped. The tunnel was quiet, but not silent. What sounds I could hear, were irregular and differing. It was almost like I was in the belly of some great vessel, with booted feet on a far-off deck as the waves shifted, making rocking berms creak and moan in the wind.

I glanced up, eyeing the feedlines.

At the previous doorway I'd gauged activity by the amount of noise making it down into the tunnels from above. I couldn't decipher much as I attempted to mine vital information from the reverberations, but there was something there; Something familiar.

A tiny thought solidified into a full blown idea as I glanced at the contact point on the doorway and my gloved hand.

"They almost sound like...malfunctions," I said to myself quietly.

I lifted my hand and touched it to one of the feedlines. I gasped in shock as data flooded my interface. Data which my suit's processing unit was busy converting empirically for my perusal.

Servomech housings!

I made a fist with my other hand and grinned. I could've cried in joy.

Autonomously Powered Servomech Housing Modules; More often known as "Servohousings", were one of the hardest to diagnose components when I first began doing shifts at the Port. The housings were a collection of sensors, actuators, pumps, controllers and power feeds working in unison to provide locomotion for lumbering Power Loaders.

Without getting too technical, I'd taken my youthful experience with contact data-point sensors and expanded it toward...modifying some functions of the Outeralls which were no longer enabled.

In short, I was able to make the gloved contact points into data collectors.

Why was this important?

When I'd first arrived, if a Servohousing went "Bad", it was a big ordeal. A bad Servohousing meant entire sections of components had to be stripped, replaced, recalibrated and recertified before a unit could be brought back to a certified working status. In most cases this could take hours, if not days, as people scrabbled to isolate malfunctioning systems. It meant entire teams would have to gut out sections. At the time, there was just no way to tell what parts of a Housing might have broken without having to fully take one apart.

Enter: The modifications.

With only a slight change to an Outerall's sensor diagnostics mode, and a bypass to re-enable the connected audio-pressure sensors located in a suit's gloved fingertip. A very consistent way to get data could be made available.

Such a method could let one learn how to "feel out" malfunctions in a machine as it operated: Quick and ticky might mean something bad within the mechanical portions of the mechanism; Weak and tappy a potential power, feed, or hydroblockage issue. There was an endless checklist stored in my implant of conditions such as these.

It still wasn't the point I was making.

No, the real point was it didn't have to just work on Servohousings. The data scrolling across my view was just the thing I needed as the suit's Systems Control Unit did the work of converting the taps, clanks and vibrations into a simple audiograph.

It was now a trivial action to get a sense of how many people might be above. I just needed to test the feedlines.

I wasted no time once I'd gained this new testing method.

Four passages, including the one I'd done my first test in, were quickly graded as "Too hot". Clear as a hot pan filled with sizzling bacon, the feedlines were practically buzzing to the touch. There was far too much activity to deem those doorways safe.

I quickly moved on.

A weight pressed on the back of my mind, a welling panic, as I tested two more exits, and eliminated them as options as well.

I was fighting down a trill of frantic fear when I finally came across a doorway where the activity levels were lower. Out of the dozens of pathways I'd tried within range, none were silent, but this one was relatively quiet and cool in comparison.

I was getting desperate. Almost out of air.

I decided to take the risk.

Approaching the inner side of the doorway, practically a twin of the one I'd used to enter the tunnel system, I pressed my hand against the metallic surface of the door, focusing hard to pick out any noises which might indicate someone would be on the other side.

Nothing.

Realizing I was finally out of air, spots flashed before my eyes and I extended my index finger quickly, reciting the magic words like a wizard chanting an incantation to enter an underground kingdom's hidden doorway.

There was a moment, as I stood there, where I imagined the door wouldn't open.

I was wrong.

The door cycled smoothly, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I released the hood from it's collar. Taking in what I hoped would be my last, air-starved breath in the near future, I finally sighed.

I'd made it.

The cold air pressed against my face as I breathed calmly, and deeply.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

My original plan had been to draw attention to myself before ducking back into the tunnel to pull a double back. The plan now sounded less appetizing as I took a few minutes to savor the breeze on my cheek and caught yet another whiff of myself; If anything, the fresh air made the smell worse.

Tucking the hood beneath the metallic collar around my neck, I checked my interface's chronometer and frowned. After my hours (plural) long voyage into the pits, I wasn't very enthusiastic to go back down there, but it was time to put the plan into effect.

I glanced upward, keeping a keen eye for anyone looking out, but didn't see anyone in the immediate area.

There was nobody. All was quiet.

Taking one final look around, I figured, "To hell with it" and made a mad dash for another stack across the lane, weaving back and forth in a wild attempt to get as many eyes on me as possible.

Still nobody.

Well shit.

I reached the lower floor of the next Stack, panting heavily, having only succeeded in giving myself a side stitch as I propped my hands on my hips as my breath came out in ragged gasps.

What kind of trick is this?! I asked myself as I tried not to vomit, Maybe running after all that oxygen deprivation wasn't such a great idea...

It took more than a few minutes to get my breathing back under control. Long enough to figure I'd somehow succeeded in throwing off the Goons before I'd needed to double back.

I guess the tunnels weren't a waste of time after all. How bout that?

Once I felt better, or at least no longer feeling like I wanted to puke, I carefully picked my way between Stacks, still keeping a wary eye out for lookouts. On random whim, I made the odd turn here or there, trying to make sure I stayed on pathways which had surfaces which didn’t leave boot prints.

At one point I had to make a slight detour, having come across another group of Security Personnel questioning someone I couldn’t get a full view of. They were dead center in the intersection, directly between me and my planned heading. Figuring caution was better than my curiosity on what was going on, I backtracked, choosing a different avenue to bypass the event entirely; You know, just to be safe.

The precautions I took were rewarded a short while later. A series of shouts, followed by the sound of heavily booted feet tromping and clomping southward, met my ears as I tried to plaster myself to a wall. I remained unmolested as they passed, managing to keep myself from view as I heard the chatter of voices above.

The Goons were tracking the new, unknown quarry as they signaled furiously to each other across the way.

In the distance, additional shouting in the area Rat-Face and his personal team of Goons had taken station. By the sounds of it, whomever Security had tried to question had taken a run for it. The two groups were now baying at each other, pressing so the runner would be herded between them.

The sounds travelled along, away from my newly chosen position and the heading I wanted to travel. I crouched. Motionless as I strained to hear. The thunder rumbled harder as the noises moved further and further away, leaving me in relative silence.

Sweaty, tired, and very...very hungry, I chose to take advantage of the breathing space the unidentified runner had unwittingly gifted me. I took extra care at junctions, slowing down to avoid just popping right out into open areas where I could be easily spotted as I hustled along.

The coast, as they say, still appeared clear. The further from my former home I traveled, the more confident I was my little Fox-Run ruse had worked. At least for now? I was alone, though it was still too soon to pat myself on the back.

Checking nearby navigation marks on the side of the walkways, I began wandering until I reached the stack I needed.

It was time to call in a favor.