Author's Note: Prompt is "an abandoned place" with Tech!

You've been here before...

"What is it?"

"A freighter,"

"Why is it just sitting there?"

Tech was silent for a moment, Hunter's question hanging in the air like the derelict ship that was drifting off their bow.

"Its engines appear to be damaged. And based on the damage to its hull, I doubt we'll find any survivors on board," Tech said, analyzing what he could gather with the long-range scanner.

Hunter let out a noncommittal hum.

"I'm certain I could ascertain more about it if we were to investigate-"

"We don't have time," the sergeant cut him off. "We're behind schedule as it is,"

A heavy thud indicated that Wrecker had been listening, and that he had set Gonky down to voice his opinion.

"Awh, come on, we've been doing boring missions forever. What if there's food on board?"

"It could be boobytrapped," Crosshair's voice materialized behind him.

"Yeah!" Wrecker, apparently, counted that as a positive. "It could be fun!"

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose briefly, before curling his fingers into a loose fist near his lips and Tech knew they had won him over before he even spoke.

"Alright, but only for a few hours."

Tech straightened up as he piloted them to the wreck, pleased with the opportunity to flex his skills. "I'll need less than half,"

Their sealed their helmets to their suits, allowing them to normalize while they adjusted other controls in anticipation of entering the dark vacuum outside. The newer suits came with better control over the magnetic strength of their boots, allowing them to walk with fairly little effort, but with enough sticking power to keep them from floating helplessly away. Tech tested his left and right boots before adjusting his goggles. His helmet design had been adjusted to compensate for the lenses, but it would mean the thin strips of skin above his cheeks and forehead would be exposed to the freezing temperatures. This meant that while Hunter had allotted them several hours, he would be limited to only an hour if he wanted to avoid permanent frostbite.

"Ready?" Hunter asked pointlessly.

"Yeah!" Wrecker's voice echoed in their coms.

Crosshair's irritated grunt followed.

Tech did his best to ignore all of it as the hatch hissed open and then they were staring across at the dead ship, nothing between them now but a few meters of empty space. It was easy to see just how scarred the hull was from this distance, and Tech felt something in his stomach turn cold.

Hunter and Crosshair went first, leaping across the distance effortlessly, loose cables in their hands. When their magnetic boots hit the other ship, they anchored the cables in, ensuring neither vessel would drift away.

No one had wanted to stay behind. Tech had been honestly surprised when Hunter hadn't grounded one of them to the pilot's seat.

A moment's calculation, and he leapt across with Wrecker.

He could hear Wrecker's heavy breathing in his helmet, and he didn't have to ask to know what was bothering him. It was the fear of so much nothing above and below them. Tech didn't understand it; he found being weightless in space a rather exhilarating sensation of freedom. But they landed just the same, and their squad switched on their helmet lights before heading into the pitch black of the freighter.

Their beams brought tight, uniform hallways and doors out of the darkness. Upon reaching the first in-tact airlock, Tech's mood improved. He knelt at the panel, feeding it just enough energy to open it, and then sealing it on the other side.

"Atmosphere?"

Tech took another scan, pleased with the improved reading. His face was cold, but the sensation was still painful and prickly. He wouldn't start to worry until it went numb.

"No, there must be another compromised section somewhere further in," he answered.

"Alright, it's helmets on for now." Hunter said, drawing his Deece and looking down the foreboding hallways. "Let's move."

They headed down the tight hallway in pairs. Tech's eyes flittered up and down the featureless walls restlessly. Something about this felt strangely familiar, as if he was reliving a dream.

"Why haven't pirates or scavengers picked up on this yet?" Hunter asked. "Even if it's empty, it's a big freighter. It would be worth a lot to someone,"

"It could be a trap," Crosshair said again.

"We've walked into worse," Wrecker shrugged off the concern.

"Unlikely," Tech answered the sniper. "There are no habitable systems in the immediate vicinity. The most probable scenario is that we are the first to find it…"

He had more to say, but that feeling swept over him again, and it was stronger this time. Like he had been here before, like they'd had this exact conversation before. Tech forced himself to take in a steadying breath, and as he did so, he felt the burning ache in his back and shoulders, as though he'd stayed up all night again. Maybe these missions were taking more out of him that he'd thought. He made a note on his datapad to do physicals on each of them when they got back to the Marauder.

They reached another bulkhead and this time it let out a hiss indicative of a less hostile environment inside. When Tech sealed it again, he answered Hunter before he could ask.

"This area does appear to be intact," he said, and pointed his datapad at the weak indication of a power source. "I believe the control room is up head,"

Wrecker popped his helmet up, letting it rest on his forehead for a moment before replacing it. Tech would have scolded him; they all needed to be better about leaving their helmets on in unfamiliar environments, but he noticed the heavy lines under Wrecker's eyes, and decided to leave it alone. They were all tired.

Wait, were they? They had all had adequate time for rest on the journey back. But as Tech rolled his shoulders and neck again, he definitely felt exhaustion creeping into his muscles. He needed to make a note to check all of their vitals later.

"What is all this?" Hunter's voice shook him out of his thoughts.

He followed his squad to the center of a large room that dipped in the center, several concentric levels of control stations centering around one display table. The room was trashed, but a pattern was easily visible in the chaos; the burn scars of blaster bolts painted the walls and the exploded remains of some of the computers told the story of a mutiny.

But then, where are all the bodies?

"What?" Tech asked, his ears ringing.

"I said, do you think you can get the engines started back up? We should bring this thing in if we can,"

"I can try," he said, opening one of the small, narrow drawers at the station he was standing beside and grabbing the spanner tool. "Go try to start up the main controls. I'm going to try to see which power couplings I can bypass to reroute power,"

Hunter's gaze lingered on him for a moment, his head twitching. Tech couldn't see his expression, but he knew his sergeant well enough to read him in any situation; they were both confused about how Tech knew the spanner tool was there.

He held the tool as another cold wash of familiarity overtook him, igniting all of his synapses in a painful flash of memory. Tech recalled searching several drawers before he found the spanner, discussing the possible scenarios with Hunter. But he couldn't have remembered that, because that wasn't what happened.

By the way Hunter continued to face him, head slightly cocked, Tech got the impression he was experiencing something similar.

"I believe we are being affected by something this freighter is carrying," Tech theorized, seizing upon the most likely scenario he could think up in those few seconds. "We should try to reactivate the main systems to download any data about what is was carrying and where it was going, and then we should leave as quickly as possible to minimize exposure,"

Tech expected Wrecker's complaint or Crosshair's snippy comment, but neither came. Their coms were so quiet that he had to look up just to make sure they hadn't disappeared. They were both standing over a most-destroyed console, but weren't speaking.

"Alright," Hunter's voice was firm in his ears. "Let's hurry, then."

He set off towards the main computer with the others, and Tech wasted no time in dropping down to the console in front of him. He searched for an access panel, sliding his gloved hand over the metal, but then recognized the configuration and adjusted to lie down on his back and slide underneath.

The panel popped lose easily and he moved to set it aside, but something caught his eye. On the inside support of the console, there was scribbled message. It was rough, spidery handwriting made with a sharp metal tool. A cold sweat broke out over his skin, his hair standing on end.

It was his handwriting.

He reached out, his hand trembled. Fingers brushed the shallow scratches as he read each word.

They have trapped us here. They are feeding on us each time we repeat the loop. DON'T turn the power on. DON'T let the loop repeat.

"Tech?" Hunter's voice was grounding in his helmet, but it wasn't enough.

His mind was racing, his breathing shallow and rapid. What was happening here? Who had trapped them? And what loop was the message talking about? The memories? Like a puzzle falling into place, Tech felt his eyes widen involuntarily.

"Hunter," he rasped, attempting to be as calm as possible. "Listen to me. We have to-"

"Nevermind, Tech! The power is working!" Wrecker's voice sent ice spiking through his veins.

"No! Don't turn it on! Don't touch anything!"

But it was too late. An electric hum filled his ears, and a light so bright that even squeezing his eyes shut under the console didn't block it out. He tasted metal, the sensation flooding his mouth and nose, and it was accompanied by an unidentifiable but intense pain. It was almost as though his body and mind were being crushed, like someone had cracked open his head and was attempting to juice his brain. He might have screamed, but before he could gather his thoughts, it all vanished. The sound, the pain, the light.

"Wha…what?"

"I said, what is it?"

"Oh," Tech touched his forehead, trying to remember what he had just been thinking about. "A freighter,"

"Why is it just sitting there?"

"It…its engines appear to be damaged. I'm certain I could ascertain more about it if we were to investigate-"

"…Yes?" Hunter asked when Tech stopped abruptly for no apparent reason.

"I'm sorry, I must be tired," he tried to shake the exhaustion away, looking at the strangely compelling scans. "I believe we should investigate further."

"Right."