After Captain Edgars changed into his combat fatigues, he joined Lacey and the others at the hole-riddled chamber. Edgars soon realized he hadn't noticed the peculiar trait of the room through the tiny video feed earlier. The farther across the fifty-yard space, the more the ceiling curved toward the floor. It also narrowed. By the halfway point, the ceiling tapered from twenty feet to ten. By the three-quarter mark, it was four or five, and the last quarter of the stretch, less than two—requiring them to crawl to the exit. The result was that of a pyramid on its side. All they needed was to get to the apex.

"You read my mind, Brain." The captain stepped next to the team's technology expert and peered down. "How long?"

Brain's fingers screwed the propellers onto struts that ran to the electric motors of the drones. He assembled the last of the four miniature devices, each small enough to cup in his hand. "Ready now, sir."

"Excellent. Get 'em in the air." The captain flashed a smile at Simon, mind deep in gold and jewels. "You see, Mr. Jonassen? Nothing to worry about. We can handle this."

The drone feed was amazing. Instead of four unique streams, the drones flew as a unit and their images appeared as one, stitched together, a perpetual panoramic perspective. Brain worked the controls on a compact tablet computer outfitted with two low-profile joysticks, a pair of levers, and a red button. Above the button, scrawled in permanent marker, was one word.

BOOM.

Captain Edgars greenlighted the use of quite a few gadgets for their mission, many packed with C4 explosive. He just hoped his latitude didn't come back to bite him in the ass.

The electric motors buzzed like a nest of angry hornets. Controlling one of the drones meant control of the group, and the breadth of their camera range made it possible to peer into two, sometimes three holes at a time. Brain slid the lever forward, inching the drones ahead.

"Mapping on and functioning."

Slow but rich in detail, the drones rendered a map of the route as it flew, tracking the safe passage forward. The pattern of the holes on the ceiling and floor made it impossible not to pass over or under one at many junctures.

The drone squadron made it almost a quarter of the way across before the microphone picked up a deep gushing and the cameras recorded a flash.

When the portside drone passed under a hole in the ceiling, a murky liquid sprayed down. The force was almost enough to cause it to crash, but the device maintained flight, if not with a little wobble.

But the drone began to smoke. The rugged carbon fiber bubbled and blistered. One of the propellers flung off and spun into a pit on the floor.

Three drones remained.

"What's going on, Brain? Status."

The technology guru never took his eyes off the screen. "Looks like acid, sir. It checks out with the warning in the antechamber when we entered." His squad adjusted formation on their own, creating an equilateral triangle.

Since the trap was on the left side of the chamber, Brain steered his drones slightly right. The next sprung trap came at the halfway point. This time a geyser of acid shot up from a hole in the floor and scored a direct hit.

Power fritzing on and off, the wounded drone smoked and melted. It crashed as dramatically as the first, but this time all four propellers broke off.

Two drones left and still half the distance to go.

A third was lost where the ceiling closed within a few feet of the floor. From the shortened distance, the drone was throttled by the spray and smashed to the floor. Plastic liquified and the motor stopped running. When the last propeller stopped, the drone's engines blew apart one by one.

Captain Edgars winced with every pop and spark, but the explosions were too small to detonate the C4. Besides, Brain hadn't armed any of the drones. His button that told a steel pin to jab the explosive and send an electric current to the payload remained unlit.

"We've still got one," Brain reassured the captain.

It closed in on the final stretch, slowly passing over the holes above and below.

"We're almost there," Lacey said, standing behind Brain for a better view of the screen.

Napalm cracked his knuckles. "Good. I was starting to get bored." He caressed the hoses that snaked around his body to the twin yellow tanks on his back marked with red skulls and labeled flammable.

To Captain Edgars' delight, the drone made it to the other side unscathed.

The tablet finished rendering the map and beeped.

"Now, we just follow the safe path." Edgars leered at Brain. "You're on a roll, Brain. Why don't you lead us across?"

The team spent the next twenty minutes circumventing the boobytrapped chamber. When Simon and Captain Edgars crossed last, Brain sent an information packet to Digger.

//: [safe route across]

Digger acknowledged the message with a Thumbs Up emoji.

He followed up on the radio. "Thanks for remembering me, B-dog."

Edgars cycled his feed to Digger's.

Digger had a good amount of debris pulled from the shaft, but he was far from finishing the job. The video feed showed a jam up in the throat, and Digger was leaning in with a short pry bar, probing for a loose opportunity to trigger more of the material down so he could haul it aside.

"Looks like you're making progress." The captain grunted his approval. "Pick up the pace. When we return with the loot, I don't want to stick around waiting for the elevator."

"Copy that, sir."

The success in crossing the boobytrap was short-lived.

Digger's video flickered and his audio cut in and out. "Sir ... something ... here. It's ..."

A dark shadow washed between Digger, and the bioluminescent life in the water.

Captain Edgars shook his head. "Why can't I catch a break?"

"... moving ... huge! ... oh, sh—"

Digger's radio cut to static. His video terminated.

The captain looked to each of his men and stopped on Rex. "Tag, you're it." Edgars patted him on the back. "Suit back up and get down there. Standard contact. Check-in every five minutes and when you reach Digger."

"Sir, yessir!"

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