Concerned, Lena decided to follow Finn into the narrow fathomless pit. With the pistol in one hand, she climbed the first rungs, but before she made it far enough to spot Finn's light, the hatch made a piercing cry and slowly shut above her head. 

Lena rushed back up, nearly slipped and fell, but with her extended arm, she reached the top and forced the pistol between the locks and prevented Arrakis from closing the door completely. An arduous effort allowed her to push the door open, to watch Arrakis jump on Chione. 

Lena was too electrified to take even just one breath and immediately aligned Arrakis' position with the front sight of the gun. Her aim was spot on, and she was not reluctant to kink her finger that lay against the trigger. 

Her eyes had slammed and secured before she heard an acute clicking noise, in replacement for the awaited raucous shot.

Arrakis paused to laugh at her. "I failed to mention: It only had three bullets."

Lena held snow in her gloves and shaped it into a ball. It hit his neck, but apart from an unpleasant jiggle, it showed no effect on him. Arrakis used his heel to strike Chione's ribs with force. She made a wretched cry but stood more frozen than an icicle.

"Move! You useless jackass!"

"I failed to mention," said Lena and came toward Arrakis, "she won't let a random person ride her. Especially not one who kicks her!"

Lena threw the pistol away and pulled Arrakis down to drop into the high snow. He landed softly but wailed in pain. His metallic leg was caught in the stirrup of the saddle, keeping it elevated, stretched, and twisted.

"I'll murder you!" He said and wanted to scream, but he nearly fainted after rolling over to face Lena.

"If I were you, I'd consider not swearing death-threats to the only person that can help you on this very isolated mountain."

"I don't need your help," he said and almost bit his tongue off, trying to reach the welded flat piece that served as a foot.

"This is amusing," said Lena, thinking it was something Arrakis would say if the situation were flipped.

"Get me down!"

"Alright, I will," she crouched and brought her lips closer to his less threatening face. "After I check on my friend in the bunker." He attempted to punch her, but she seized his fist and held on to it. "I wouldn't." Then she let go. He did not strike again.

His breaths were ephemeral. He camouflaged any emotion he may have felt with a quite neutral impression, and without moving his jaw, he said, "Please——take it off."

"Hold in there," she giggled. "See what I did there? Oh, now why are you so serious? Your cheeks are glowing red like a hotplate. Maybe you need to cool off." Brave and childish, she buried his chest in the snow. "We wouldn't want your cold, dead heart to suddenly start pumping, would we?"

"Who's the sadist now?" he responded.

Puffed up with conceit, she climbed down the ladder and discovered Finn not far from it. He was staring at the small circle of the illuminated floor and talked to him, but like voices in the wind, her subtle sounds found his ears only partially. Excluding the two, the bunker was deserted of life.

"Finn? Where are the people?"

He gave her no indication that he could hear her at all.

The room was large, and filled with vacant space. 

Some objects lay scattered around, from luggage, clothes, and kids' toys, to empty glasses of burned down-candles, opened yet unfinished cans of food, and read books next to written letters. 

Lena walked with caution not to step on any items, and investigated and searched for an explanation of what happened to the owners of those things. Nothing led her to understand where the missing passengers could have gone, she did, however, find a stack of blueprints, representing complex designs titled New Space Station next to some tools and papers. 

She looked at one of the folders lying near it and viewed sketched designs of weapon systems and detailed information about a group referred to as Asgard.

"I was so sure. So sure they would be here. But I am failing once again," Finn murmured to himself as Lena walked to another corner of the bunker. 

She accidentally stepped on a single torn page from the journal aside. It was a letter addressed to Arrakis, but whoever had written it, or anticipated to write it, never finished. Its first sentences were hardly complete and looked rather scribbled than composed with a draft. 

In a low voice, Lena read it to herself, "Arrakis, I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me. I wish I could say it in person, but we are forced to leave and hide somewhere else. I don't have much time, they are already taking people out—" More it did not say. 

Lena continued the walk and picked up a small photograph. It was crumpled up with faded colors beneath the scratches on a glossy surface. Its two very symmetrical folds indicated that it had been sitting in a wallet or pocket. Those folds intersected at the photo's center point, right between the two faces of a smiling couple. 

They were in love, Lena saw it by the way they were looking at each other. So pure and saintly. She was sitting on his lap, and like yin and yang, they contrasted each other in perfect harmony. Behind his glasses sat dreamy brown eyes, on a face paler than that of the moon, and his hair was a mess of star-beam golden curls. His curls appeared to have a natural glow when compared to her black hair. Despite the great volume on her head, not a single strand was out of place. From the roots, all the way to the splitless ends at her bosom, it was flawless, as flawless as her sun-kissed espresso skin. 

The ruffles of her red summer dress reached down to her crossed ankles, and the yellow flower print matched her kitten heels.

Her eyes were fixed on the golden ring that hugged her skinny finger. It complimented the glitter on her polished nails. Meanwhile, his joyful eyes were fixed on her puffy cherry-red lips. His lips, however, were a slim crescent moon; each end could almost touch his protruding ears. What gave him all the more sympathetic appearance was his hooked nose that carried those rimless, round glasses.

Lena turned the photograph and noticed on the stained paper a message in smudged blue ink.

"My dear angel, as my hand must let you go, my heart will hold on tightly. Forever, I will love you as I loved you then. Robby."

"So sure. I was so sure, so certain," Finn mumbled in quiet tongues. "I would have bet my heart and soul, so sure was I. So—so wrong. Where was I wrong?"

"They were here," said Lena. Having walked one great round, she stood behind Finn again. "And it seems they left in a hurry. Don't you think?" His whispers had ceased but he still remained silent. "Finn?"

"Did you say Robby?"

"What?—Yes."

He snatched the photograph out of her hand and stared open-mouthed at the man in the white polo shirt. At the wall, against which the couple was sitting, hung a framed diploma. It was undecipherable, however, for a scratch spanned right above its writing. What truly caught Finn's eyes was the handmade watch on the man's wrist. It was unmistakable. 

Finn read the note on the back, and at the signature name, his eyes long dwelled.

"I know this man," he said. "Robby. He lives in my city. I used to read his blog a lot, where he claimed that his wife never died on A154."

"This photo belongs to his wife. That means—"

"He was right! His wife was here! Whether the passengers are alive or not, it is undeniable that the black hole was a huge lie."