In which the Potato spirit is once again tested.


    “What is that droning noise?” Whispered Paul Feathers to his potato brothers, as the three cautiously made their way through the hallways beyond the Lab in search for the xeno crew, now that the station seemed to be dying. Their first objectives had been the hospital bay and the culture exchange rooms, their most familiar spots outside Potato Base, but everywhere so far was empty and abandoned, and that only brought more attention to every unsettling thing, like the itty bitty noise crawling all around them.


    “I-Ishink…” Said Cecil Noodle shivering somewhat, the air and the floor tagteaming to drain his bodyheat little by little. “I-itishshe…e-electrishity…That’shleft.”


    Alistair Kibbles and Paul were supporting their serpentine brother by the arms, keeping close to relay some of their warm to him, but while the Dorarizin’s fur was a great cold insulator and the Karnakian’s feathers were adequate substitute, they were not great heat radiators. As his bodyheat entered mild hypothermia levels, his mind began to wander in confusion, rendering his senses numb and feeling dream-like.


    And then, a most intriguing effect was triggered inside him: a memory.


    Ξ”Disoriented, Mr. Vohs? Perfectly normal…Just follow the Q line back to Q1 and you will return to your room safely…”Ξ


    It disappeared as quick as it happened, but its familiar feeling was left lingering long enough for Cecil to act on it. “Q-Q line…” He pointed with a shivering claw towards the wall, surprising his brothers as his eyes seemed lost. “Fo-follow…Q l-line.”


    Alistair and Paul looked at the wall and noticed a series of colored lines like this:


    ------P3<------>P4------


    ------Q5<------>Q6------


    ------R1<------>R2------


    Though it had been years since they required to follow the lines (which were at every main connecting hallway and room), deep down they knew their significance; so they exchanged brief steeled glances, nodded once, then marched their way through with Cecil in tow to find help together.


    “Hang in there, bro. We’ll find them. Everything will be fine.” Said Paul, courage and hope taking over to fight against the cold and stiff air around them. Alistair shared his sentiments, his rekindled passion also boosting his bodyheat for the sake of his fallen brother, who could barely keep his head up in between shivers.


    The trio followed “Q6” since that was their direction from the beginning (and Cecil didn’t specify that before losing grasp of his surroundings), and they got as far as “Q11” before they reached a fork in their path that lead to three new options: two for their level and one for above. Since the third one required to enter a smoler space, it was ignored, so that left two.


    “Which is Q line?” Said Paul looking around at the empty place, breathing harder and feeling exhausted and cold.


    “(There’s…no more.).” Ninjutsued Alistair, juggling Broball in his claw so he could gesture since his other arm was busy holding Cecil. Alistair had the best endurance of the three, and with his fur staving off the cold, he only showed signs of mild exhertion despite the decreasing oxygen in the environment.


    Then, Cecil stopped shivering and went limp.


    “Bro!” Paul caught his head before it hit the floor. “Don’t fall asleep, bro!”


    “hmm…” Cecil tried to regain his stance, but keeping himself awake was heavy enough that he couldn’t lift himself up. Paul felt what had to be done, and without a word, he put Cecil’s head over his soft-yet-strong feathered long neck, letting Cecil save some strength.


    Alistair realized he couldn’t keep holding onto Broball then and there. If something else happened (and it would happen), he needed his other claw free. So, he swiftly opened his jumpsuit and stuffed Broball by his belly, closing his jumpsuit just enough, much to Paul’s perplexion. The two exchanged looks for a second, before Paul gave him a thumbs-up.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    “What to do now?” Thought Paul, trying to take the lead in Cecil’s absence. He looked around for clues when a thought-no, a memory crossed his mind.


    Ξ”How did you get here first?”


    “I just went right all the way. I mean, if it’s not right then it’s wrong, right?”


    “Harr harr. Just get to work…”Ξ


    “Worth a shot.” Thought Paul, nodding to himself. “Alistair.” He looked at his brother and gestured to the path on their right. “Do you sense anything from that way?”


    Alistair moved closer to that particular path and begun to sniff away and listen, feeling what little airflow was coming from there with the latest news. “(Zero activity. Left about 2 hours ago.)” Ninjutsued Alistair after a moment.


    Paul could confirm (to some degree) his wolf brother’s conclusion, so… “Check the left one now.” And Alistair did as told.


    “(Zero activity. Left about hour and a half ago).”


    “That’s our way then.” Said Paul with a steeled look, and the three set off on their new path. “If you got no right, then use what’s left.” Thought the Karnakian with a meek hopeful smile, remembering another thing about himself.


    Now they were following the “M line” which took them to “J line” as they relied on Alistair’s keen tracking senses to determine which path had the most recent xeno presence. “At some point we will cross paths.” Thought Paul with exhausted hope, fighting against his own weight to (sluggishly) keep pace with his brother while carrying the now unconscious Jornissian on their shoulders.


    Alistair knew Paul was getting slower, so he slowed down to remain in sync with him as much as possible, but now he was beginning to feel the effects of the cold and slow suffocation, to the point that the flashing emergency lights were giving him a slight headache.


    CLANK There was a quake across the station, and the trio went crashing against the walls of the hallway. CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK The quakes hammered #DX192.


    Then, after a KOREEEK, the air pressure shifted.


    Alistair remained kneeling on the floor for a moment, catching his breath. The sudden hit didn’t hurt him (though it damaged the wall), but the shift in the air left him slightly disoriented. “(Are you-)” Ninjutsued to his brother before immediately realizing Paul was now unconscious too.


    Alistair panicked with cold shock.


    “No.” Thought the Dorarizin, struggling to carry Paul on his back alongside Cecil. “NO.” But he tripped under their combined weight, his claws digging into the floor.


    He knew he couldn’t do this alone, he didn’t consider himself strong enough without their encouragement. Cecil always had a good plan they could pitch in if needed, and Paul was good at improvising on the fly. What did he had to offer? Just muscle, plain muscle. And even that was failing him now.


    He began hyperventilating, which only robbed him of what little precious oxygen remained.


    Ξ”Alistair…Alistair!”Ξ An echo was brought forward by the hand of Death.


    ΞKeep running, son! The goal is right there! Carry the ball! Carry the ball!”Ξ


    Carry the ball…


    Yes.


    It’s always been about carrying the ball.


    Alistair glanced at Broball (who was still tuckered safely inside his jumpsuit) and Broball glanced back.


    “Carry the ball.”


    His panic was cut short, hyperventilation gone, focus through the roof.


    Alistair took a deep breath, then…


    GRAAAAWR!


    He unleashed one last howl of defiance, crawling forward in all fours to carry the unconscious bodies of his brothers more efficiently on his back. If Death wanted their souls so much, he would have to take the ball from him first.


    SURE. Said the Grim Reaper.


    And Alistair fell on top of Broball upon crawling just a dozen feet away.


    “No…No.” Thought Alistair, anguished by the reality that shouting your only remaining breath away in an oxygen deprived environment was not exactly a self-sustaining tactic (regardless of how empowering it could be). He was pinned to the floor by the combined weight of his brothers.


    But even so, in his last conscious moment, he smiled.


    Alistair smiled a smile of acknowledgement because he fought to the bitter end. And, tell me, is that not what his brothers would have wished from him?


    “[Alistair…Paul…Cecil…]”


    He could hear the angels calling for them now, and he whined a short bittersweet awoo to let them know they were there, and to let them know they should take him first, for he still hoped his brothers could be saved in spite of his failure.


    The last Potato lost consciousness.