Artie considers Brighte's bright idea, "If we all get in a line behind the team leader and hold onto the clone in front of us we can at least stay together as we move blindly forward.  Always forward."

So basically, just conga line through the sector! Possibly the most ridiculous and treasonous idea yet.This sack of meat is definately not running on a solid state drive! What a crazy idea! On the other hand, at least with a conga line Artie won't stub his toes - he's clumsy enough. So he'll play along for now...

"Loyal team members will line up behind team leader, pending power repairs, and prepare to conga! Remember this was Brighte's idea! Loyalty officers are mandated by friend Computer to go last in a line, to watch out for treasons. Let's all be orderly while our leader attempts repairs."

Meanwhile if Ammpe can get those power conduits operational, it will be temporary proof of his loyalty. Temporary. But really, a clone fixing power conduits? Inefficient.

"Ammpe, wouldn't it be better if you got a robot-handy-fixer to fix that? We can all see, you can't fix stuff as well as a robot. We understand if you're not up to the task. We ceed to your judgement, though, team leader".

And this Blowz-R-UPP-2... very interesting. If anyone else talked like that, Artie would definately report them with his laser. But Blowz is funny. Of course, if Blowz 2 is was Artie thinks, Artie knows what to do.

In the meantime, while we await the power repair, or shuffle in conga formation, Artie recalls a happy song of joyful subservient obedience...

"Hello darkness our old friend, we'll fix the conduits again,

Because the prospect of a treason

Leaves a corpse, we know the reason

Friend Computer, power surges are your right!

we will not fight

we happily serve

in silence."

Sometimes Artie finds it difficult to gauge whether he is more happy or more loyal. Loyal, definately. And happy. Mostly loyal.

As requested Brighte will lift his fellow clone so as to avoid a look at the power.  He hands and knees.  'climb on, just watch where you step"

Brighte loyally allows himself to be used as a human stepstool while the Power Services clone cimbs on top to get a look at the power conduits. 

It would seem that if the darkness is possibly due to sabotage and treason, the sabatuer perhaps figured that someone may try to repair the damage.  Ammpe fumbles about in the dark, reaches for his hammer at his belt...

What happens next is difficult to explain due to the darkness.  There is a painfully bright discharge of energy, and both clones go toppling to the floor.  Ammpe groans and pulls himself to his feet, but Brighte makes no sounds whatsoever, and instead lies still on the ground.  A quick inspection (complete with fumbling around, tripping over Bright's leg, and fingers being jabbed in the wrong places) reveals that the HPD & MC clone is not breathing, nor does he have a pulse.  The acrid scent of burnt hair battles with the unsettlingly appetizing aroma of roasted meat here in the corridor. 

Once again, Friend Computer's voice chimes from the same crackly speaker somewhere in the ceiling.

"Attention, Troubleshooter team MAO-17859 Dot R-2. Sensors indicate that your team has sustained another regrettable casualty. Mission success relies upon a full strength team; please stand by as a replacement clone is activated and dispatched to your location.

Have an enjoyable day in Alpha Complex."

The speaker falls silent.

Again, it is roughly a ten minute delay before the same hidden door slides open, and Brighte-R-NNU-2 is force marched into the corridor by a Vulture Squad.  "What did you trobleshooters do to the lights?" one of the Vultures demands, though he does not bother to lilsten to replies.  Instead, they strip the dead clone, transfer his blongings to the replacement, and drag the corpse, feet first, thought the hidden door which again seals behind them. 

Once again, the full strength team stands in near total darkness.

"Why is it so dark in here?  Maybe someone should take a look at the power couplings and see if there is anything wrong.  I can be a stool if needed."  Brighte2 had a weird sense of de-ja-vu so a second but certainly it was just a glitch resulting from his rapid boot-up in order to join the team.  

It all happened so fast, as it always does. First with the lasers, then with the flash bang volt of electricity that claimed Brighte 1. On a scale of 1 to f***ed up, Steam had definitely seen worse deaths, though not so many that smelled like a luau. His own sizzling arm wasn't helping much.

He tried to clench his fist and make out the position of his teammates based on the small noises they made to pass the time. The brief 10 minutes it took for Brighte 2 to show up were the most blessedly silent Steam could remember. And then he was there again and they were all still in darkness.

"Why is it so dark in here?" Brighte asked, breaking the silence, "Maybe someone should take a look at the power couplings and see if there is anything wrong. I can be a stool if needed."

Steam stepped in what he assumed was the second clone's direction, "That's how your first clone kicked it, Morale officer, though your first idea wasn't so bad."

He had no idea where Team Leader was anymore, but he turned in the darkness anyway, "Team Leader, I suggest we do as Brighte said before and all line up behind you, holding on to each other and head down the rest of the way together, sir. I'm comfortable leading the way too, if you want. I have experience in these exact situations."

While the absurd situation has been unfolding before him, Slipp wonders if this is real or if it's just the supplements. He eventually comes to the conclusion that it is, in fact, real and his team has managed to get yet another clone killed in less than 10 minutes.

After the new clone arrives and his team is yet again sitting in the dark with no bright ideas. Slipp decides to fumble around in the dark get a roll of gauze from the first aid kit coat it with his favorite hair grease and wrap it around the end of the barrel of his gun. Slipp then starts making lighter lighting noises and lights the improvised torch on fire.

Slipp is a resourceful clone, always thinking of out of the box solutions to everyday problems.  Today is no different.  No light?  Take some hair grease, some gauze, apply flame, and voila - one makeshift torch. 

The light produced by the torch is not amazing, but compared to the near pitch black of before, it is welcome, indeed. 

Fun fact - Rogg-R-MORE brand hair oil has a surprisingly high combustion temprature.  Is most situations, this might go overlooked.  R&D might be interested in this fact.  But in the field, when applied to the barrel of a laer pistol, the results are... interesting.

What is the difference in a Red and a Yellow or Green laser pistol?  Nothing whatsoever.  The difference comes in the barrel screwed in to the pistol body; the barrel is color coded for security clearance, and indicates the power of the laser.  The barrel is the actual ammo source for the weapon.

Since the ancient days of black gunpowder, humanity has often been reminded that ammunition and fire frequently fail to play nicely together.  Troubleshooter team MAO-17859 Dot R-2 finds themselves being given yet another reminder of this when the heat from the flame manages to destabalize Slipp's laser pistol.

One moment, all is well; another, the pistol begins a shrill beeping.  Seconds later, it explodes.

The force of the explosion knocks everyone within a roughly three meter radius (read: everyone) to the ground.  Brighte and Steam are able to immediately pick themselves up, while Ammpe, Artie, and Blowz find themselves stunned, having to spend a minute or two shaking their heads and trying to get their bearings.

Slipp - being the one actually holding the pistol - gets the worst of it.  Long after the others have regained thier feet, the PLC clone remains motionless on the ground.  He is stil breathing, he occasionally makes small sounds of pain, but the skin around his face, hand and arms is heavily charred and he does not appear to be in any hurry to regain consciousness. 

“Whoa!” Ammpe might have called out in the dark following the energy burst. Might have… had he not been so slow to speak… as it happened, the word escaped him only after he’d toppled from Brighte’s back and found himself lying on his own alongside the partially cooked step-stool clone. Groaning, Ammpe sits himself up and, trying to peer through the dark to assess the situation, once more, mutters; “Well… that didn’t go the way I had imagined it might.” The Power Services clone coughs and tries to fan away the surprisingly unappetizing stench of charred meat as he gets to his feet…

“Attention, Troubleshooter team MAO-17859 Dot R-2,” the Computer’s voice crackles from the speaker, “Sensors indicate that your team has sustained another regrettable casualty. Mission success relies upon a full strength team; please stand by as a replacement clone is activated and dispatched to your location.

Have an enjoyable day in Alpha Complex.”

…Beyond his words and those of the Computer, the next ten minutes passes in a silence as absolute as ever may have been possible in Alpha Complex. At the point where Ammpe had decided that he was actually enjoying the quiet, the same door from which Blowz-2 had emerged some short time ago opened and Brighte’s replacement clone was ushered into the corridor…

"What did you troubleshooters do to the lights?" one of the Vultures demand, not bothering to wait for, let alone listen to, any responses that might have been made. Instead, the Vulture Squad did what they were designed to do, scavenging the personal effects from the dead clone and transferring them to it’s replacement before disappearing back through the doorway from whence they came.

"Why is it so dark in here,” Brighte-R-NNU-2 queried once the Vultures were gone, “Maybe someone should take a look at the power couplings and see if there is anything wrong.  I can be a stool if needed." 

It was all Ammpe could do to stifle the chuckle that threatened to escape him, then, and, hopefully, any bit of it that might have escaped was masked or muffled by Steam’s response to Brighte2’s suggestion; “That's how your first clone kicked it, Morale officer, though your first idea wasn't so bad.

Team Leader,” Steam continued through the dark, “I suggest we do as Brighte said before and all line up behind you, holding on to each other and head down the rest of the way together, sir. I'm comfortable leading the way too, if you want. I have experience in these exact situations.”

Ammpe nodded and, perhaps, sighed at the recommendation. “I suppose so,” he drawled, “checking the power conduits didn’t seem to help, at all, did it? All we can do, then, is carry on as you suggest.” He fumbled in the dark for a moment, checking to make sure that his hammer and other gear were all still in place, then continued. “Steam, as you have said that you have experience in these situations, I accept your volunteering to lead us to the designated briefing point. I’ll follow behind you and everyone else line up behind me. Let’s hope we have no further delays.”

“Steam," Team Leader began, "as you have said that you have experience in these situations, I accept your volunteering to lead us to the designated briefing point. I’ll follow behind you and everyone else line up behind me. Let’s hope we have no further delays.”

Steam nodded in the darkness, "Alright, you heard him. Everyone grab the shoulder of someone near you. I'll make my way to the front and we'll continue without anymore de-"

BOOM!

This time it's Slipp's face he sees as the hallway lights up once again an the entire team is taken to the ground once more. Steam shakes his head, becoming already too used to this s*** and jumped up in a rage, his arm growing more pained by the second.

"Is anyone down?! Someone check on that idiot that blew his face off! No one else try lighting anything, rewiring anything, doing anything else that's gonna get us all killed! If Slipp isn't dead, get him up and let's get out of this Friend Computer foresaken hallway. Friend Computer is counting on us team, let's move!"

Brighte checked on Slipped.  It seemed he was burnt behind usefulness.  His continued service to friend Computer was unlikely.  "He is going to require a system reset before we continue' .  There is a momentary flash of light.

Slipp is not dead - not yet, at least.  However, he is not conscious, and his wounds are extensive.  Without serious medical attention, it's a matter of "when" he will die as opposed to "if".

Brighte kneels by the incapacitated clone's side. In a calm, detached manner, the HPD & MC clone pronounces "he is going to require a system reset before we continue."  He then places his laser pistol against Slipp's charred forehead (which requires a little probing in the darkness, as well as a finger gouge to the fallen clone's eye), then pulls the trigger.

Slipp convulses once as the pistol opens a neat hole through the front and back of his head, then lies perfectly still.

Yet again, Friend Computer's voice chimes from the same crackly speaker somewhere in the ceiling back in the hall behind you.

"Attention, Troubleshooter team MAO-17859 Dot R-2. Sensors indicate that your team has sustained yet another regrettable casualty. Mission success relies upon a full strength team; please stand by as a replacement clone is activated and dispatched to your location.

Your team is advised to use extra caution in your ongoing activities, as your mission has obviously attracted the attention of commie traitors or mutant saboteurs who are desperate to see you fail.  Be happy, as the importance of your mission to Alpha Complex is further proven by how desperately the enemy clearly wishes to see you fail.  Isn't it nice to be part of something so important?

Have an enjoyable day in Alpha Complex."

Once more, it is roughly a ten minute delay before the same hidden door slides open, and Slipp-R-YEE-2 is force marched into the corridor by a Vulture Squad.  "You worms are really good at this," one of the Vultures sneers to the chuckles of his buddies. They strip the dead clone, transfer his belongings to the replacement, and drag the corpse, feet first, thought the hidden door.  Before it seals seals behind them, the Vulture laughs.  "You guys may want to see if they need help scrubing the food vats.  You might live longer!"

Once again, the full strength team stands in near total darkness, though they have now covered a good fifty to a hundred feet of corridor.

Brighte2 wiped a bit of what was Slipee of his cheek and hosted his laser pistol.  Then he waited for the now familiar announcement and arrival of the culture team and replacement clone.  " He would have slowed is down and compromised the mission; things only a traitor would do.  We all know he would not have wanted to be a traitor.  Now that he has been rebooted he can one more serve friend Computer in full capacity.  It seems someone does not want us to see where we are going.  Maybe Computer wants to make sure we are not exposed to things that would make us question it's wisdom.  It would seem that the conga line might be our best hope." Brighte2 grabbed the shoulder of the nearest companion.  He then broke into a morale raising conga song.  "Day-o, Dayaa-o, daylight gone and me wanna go on."

Brighte certainly seemed to be one of the more efficient members of their team, despite how loud he was.

"Day-o, Dayaa-o, daylight gone and me wanna go on," Brighte jingled near him.

They had hardly moved. What an inefficient team. No, if Steam had learned anything from his time in the armed forces serving Friend Computer, it was that even the greatest, most valiant team could be taken down by inefficient leadership. And inefficiency was an enemy to Friend Computer.

With the new Slipp ready to go, Steam turned toward what was either their leader, or a wall, "Team Leader, under your command we have efficiently moved about fifty feet in the last half hour. We are keeping Friend Computer waiting. I revoke my request to lead in order to allow you to do your best job from where you belong, in the front."

Steam held his arms out and pat around everyone until he finally got to their leader. He put a large, meaty hand on Team Leader's shoulder and helped guide him forward, waiting for everyone else to latch on to the person in front of them.

"Whaddya say Team Leader? You gonna lead us out of this or waste more of Friend Computer's time?"

Blowz picked himself up from the floor after the explosion.  He wanted to look around, but in the darkness all he could really do was to adjust his wonderful red hat.  He had been worried as he was knocked flat that it might be damaged, but luckily his skull inside of it had helped it keep its shape when it slammed into the side of the tunnel.  That was one tough hat!  He shook his head a bit to clear the cobwebs.  

Cobwebs!  Dirt, that would be treason!  But no, they were gone quickly as his head cleared.  He watched, well listened really, as the others dealt with the near-dead-now-dead clone.  Another delay.  Then he heard Steam offer back the lead position.  But he had previously taken the lead.  This was odd behavior.  Was he a qualified leader or wasn't he?  Did he think he should be the leader and want to take the leadership position from their computer-appointed leader?  

Blowz2 moved up behind Steam in the darkness and whispered so that nobody else could hear.  "You vant zu be Leaderz, eh?  All uv uz kan be zu leader in the dark.  Evervon in ze party is equal.  No leaderz.  Put Steam in front he says."  He hummed a few bars of the classic Kazachok so quietly even Steam might not have heard.  "Da.  I knowz du.  I knowz."  He stepped back and stayed behind Steam in the dark.  

“Attention, Troubleshooter team MAO-17859 Dot R-2. Sensors indicate that your team has sustained yet another regrettable casualty…”

Ammpe had heard those words enough in the past half an hour that he was all but certain they had become laser-etched into his brain. A bad choice of analogy, there, he decided, watching as the Vultures appeared, yet again, to claim a fallen clone and replace it with another.

“You worms are really good at this,” one of the Vultures sneered in the dark, “You guys may want to see if they need help scrubbing the food vats.  You might live longer!”

Ammpe just shook his head as the Vulture Squad and their chuckling disappeared behind the door, again. They’re not entirely wrong, he sighed, though the way things are going, scrubbing the food vats might just end with one of us becoming food. So… there’s that…

“It seems someone does not want us to see where we are going,” Brighte-2’s voice interrupted Ammpe’s plodding thoughts, “Maybe Computer wants to make sure we are not exposed to things that would make us question it's wisdom.  It would seem that the conga line might be our best hope.”

Ammpe was about to agree but, before he could form the words to do so, Brighte burst into song again. “Day-o, Dayaa-o, daylight gone and me wanna go on!” The tune hurt his head as much as the interruption of his yet unspoken reply. Ammpe rubbed at his temples, took a deep breath, and made to say something, again, but…

“Team Leader, under your command we have efficiently moved about fifty feet in the last half hour,” it was Steam, this time, who interrupted the words that hadn’t quite made it to Ammpe’s lips, “We are keeping Friend Computer waiting. I revoke my request to lead in order to allow you to do your best job from where you belong, in the front.”

“Okay, okay,” Ammpe grumbled as he felt a hand come to light on his shoulder, “I was…”

"Whaddya say Team Leader,” Steam pressed, again, interrupting Ammpe’s progress toward finishing a sentence, “You gonna lead us out of this or waste more of Friend Computer's time?”

“I’m gonn…”

The buzzing of a whisper in the darkened corridor interrupted him, then, and a buzzing in his brain, too. His face felt hot and, he was sure, had there been any light to show it, his visage was certainly as red as his clearance level. “Everyone SHUT UP!!! We ALL would like to go on and do as Friend Computer has asked but it seems that you lot can’t keep from getting yourselves killed long enough for us to get ANYWHERE!!! So, yes! I will lead as I have been asked… everyone line up, hand on the shoulder in front of you and NOWHERE ELSE!!! No talking! Just walking! Let’s move!”