"We restore main power first," Chen decided, stepping back from the damaged console. "If we're working in the dark with failing systems, everything becomes harder. We get the station online, then communications will be simple."
"Agreed," Sergei said, already moving toward the door. "Engineering control is in maintenance sector. Below main hub, near drilling platform access. I helped design power distribution here."
Marcus didn't look thrilled. "That means going deeper into the station. Farther from the exit."
"It means doing this properly," Chen countered, shrugging the communications relay back onto their shoulder. "We need lights, heat, and computer access to understand what happened here. Thirty minutes to restore power, then we're back here with full systems."
Nora picked up the damaged laptop, tucking it under her arm. "I want to try accessing this once we have power. There might be logs, research data..."
The four of them filed back into the corridor. The wet footprints they'd seen earlier were still visible in the main hub, but now Chen noticed something that made their skin crawl: they didn't just lead from the residential quarters. They continued past, toward the maintenance sector. Toward exactly where they were heading.
And the prints were barefoot. Human-sized, but the toes were spread too wide, the arch flattened, as if whatever made them was walking wrong.
"Marcus," Chen said quietly, pointing.
He saw them. His jaw tightened. "Stay alert. Safeties off."
The maintenance sector entrance was down a steep metal staircase. Their boots clanged against the steps, the sound echoing in ways that seemed to come from above and below simultaneously. The temperature dropped further as they descended—their breath came in thick clouds now.
The walls here were utilitarian—exposed pipes, cable runs, metal grating. This was the functional skeleton of the station, the guts that kept everything running. It was also claustrophobic, with the ceiling barely seven feet high and the corridor width forcing them into pairs.
Halfway down, they passed a junction box. Someone had torn it open, the metal door hanging on one hinge. The wiring inside looked... wrong. Not cut or damaged, but rearranged. Serpentine patterns that no electrician would create.
"Sergei?" Chen asked.
He stopped, examining it with a frown. "This does nothing. Wiring now goes nowhere. Someone spent time doing this. Hours, maybe. But why?" He looked at Chen, and there was something in his eyes they hadn't seen before: fear. "My people—Sami elders—they tell stories of things in old ice. Things that should not be disturbed. They make patterns. Wrong patterns. Not human thinking."
"Sergei—" Marcus started.
"I am engineer. I believe in science. But I also believe in respecting what my ancestors knew." He closed the junction box carefully, almost reverently. "They said this place was cursed. That hunters went missing here, long ago. That something sleeps beneath."
Before anyone could respond, the lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then they went out completely.
Chen's world became absolute darkness.
Someone gasped—Nora, Chen thought. They heard the metallic click of Marcus activating his rifle's tactical light, and a beam cut through the black, casting harsh shadows that seemed to move on their own.
"Everyone stay calm," Chen said, though their heart was hammering. They pulled out their own flashlight. "Sergei, how far to engineering?"
"Fifty meters. End of this corridor, then left."
The flashlight beams created narrow tunnels of light in the oppressive dark. As they moved forward, Chen became aware of a sound: a rhythmic creaking, like metal flexing. It was coming from the walls, from the ceiling, from everywhere and nowhere.
Then they heard it.
Footsteps. Running. Getting closer.
"Contact!" Marcus shouted, swinging his light and rifle toward the sound.
A figure lurched out of the darkness ahead—human-shaped but moving strangely, jerking and twitching. It was wearing a tattered research parka, hood up, face hidden in shadow.
"FREEZE!" Marcus's command echoed.
The figure stopped. Stood perfectly still. Too still—no breathing, no movement at all.
In the combined beams of their flashlights, Chen could see the parka was stained with something dark. The hands hanging at its sides were wrong—fingers too long, or too many, they couldn't quite tell in the uncertain light.
"Hello?" Nora called out, her voice shaking. "We're here to help. Are you from the Polaris crew?"
The figure's head tilted. Slowly. Unnaturally. Like someone learning how necks work.
Then it spoke, and the voice was all wrong—layered, multiple tones at once, some high, some impossibly low:
"Don't. Go. Down."
The words hung in the freezing air. Chen's hand tightened on their flashlight. Marcus's finger moved to his trigger. Sergei whispered something in Russian that might have been a prayer.
The figure stood there, perfectly motionless, backlit by their beams. Waiting.