Krzysztof took the stairs three at a time, fear lending him wings. He still had his weapon with him but it was as much use as a club at this point. He slammed into walls, banging off them while he took sharp turns, gulping in lungs of air to keep his legs pumping onward. He could hear screams and garbled transmissions over the radionet but right now they weren't his concern. Living was. He was panting by the time he reached the officer. Cover their six? Krzy wanted to keep running until he'd reached the first ship off this rock. Mechanically he checked the weapon again, bracing its heftier weight while Krakova led the retreat.