Another equally forgotten research station.
Close enough, just a few slopes away. Yet it proves enough distance to put the crazed dogs off their chase.
The windows are drafty, the power dim and dying, but at least the air carries no stench of blood or decay.
Sonetto: Every room has been checked. There are no hidden enemies.
Vertin: Thank you, Sonetto. Let's take a rest before we set off again.
Sonetto: Timekeeper ...
Sonetto: According to the official map, the previous station we entered is called Shackleton Station. It's supposed to be the site of the largest scientific research operation in a 70-mile radius.
Sonetto: If even they fell victim to such a tragedy, it's hard to imagine any of the smaller stations surviving it.
Vertin: There must be a purpose behind these attacks.
Sonetto: Judging from the state of the corpses, the researchers were sacrificed for some kind of ritual.
Sonetto: If we assume that Manus Vindictae did this—
Nautika: There is no doubt. This was done by those Snow Monsters.
Nautika's muffled voice emerges from the corner. After their last encounter, she had been silent and still as if like a statue, but at last she begins to unpack jars and cans of food from her bag.
Sonetto: Then it's highly likely that this was all in service of the same "ritual" Mr. Aleph mentioned.
Ms. Radio: It's so cruel. What kind of ritual would require such a thing?
Sonetto: We have too little information to piece together the truth. But judging by this massacre, they need human sacrifices.
Vertin: Or perhaps, they're eliminating any "aliens"—in this case, humans—in the vicinity before they perform the ritual.
Sonetto: In any case, this shows how much this "ritual" means to them.
Vertin: Dr. Dores.
Sonetto: If Dr. Dores was in fact here, then we're on the right track.
Sonetto: According to Ms. Amundsen's map, we're not far at all from the central region. We must catch up with Dr. Dores before she enters Manus Vindictae territory.
Vertin: From the looks of the angle of the sun, we still have some time to catch up to her before it gets dark.
Nautika arranges the food by type and size, muttering under her breath.
Nautika: Mother Spirit, thank you for feeding us and for everything you provide.
Nautika: And, of course, thank you to Ms. Vertin and Ms. Sonetto for providing the food.
Their voices fall quiet for a time, replaced by the soft murmur of chewing and the slurp of canned food.
Sonetto: I'm glad to see you looking more calm.
Nautika: Sorry. I wasn't always like this.
She stammers out an apology that gathers into an explanation.
Nautika: I was ...
Nautika: They said I was like a fearless sled dog.
Sonetto: ...
Sonetto: Don't worry. I understand. We've all gone through things that have scarred us.
Nautika: ...
The incandescent lights flicker as if nodding in agreement.
Sonetto: Is it to do with what we saw in Shackleton Station?
Nautika: ...
She untangles her fingers with force.
Nautika: I know you need information, but there isn't much else I can tell you.
Nautika: Insanity, Snow Monsters, starvation ... Death just kept on coming. Friele told me to run, so I did. I ran all the way back the way we came.
Nautika: I ran fast, as fast as I could. But when I got to the station, everyone had either left or ... sigh
She stops, unable to continue.
Words aren't necessary to piece together the rest of her story.
Sonetto: I'm sorry.
Nautika shakes her head. Meeting Sonetto's gaze, she steels herself and tries again.
Nautika: I don't know if it's because of hyperventilation or that I hit my head, but there are some things I can't remember clearly.
Nautika: But that fear I felt—that fear still haunts me. I'm no longer as brave as I used to be.
Sonetto: Ms. Amundsen ...
Nautika: Back in my hometown, you're considered brave if you can tame a reindeer. We have a racing festival every year.
Nautika: Whoever wins the race serves as the voice of the Mother Spirit. They hear Her voice and beat its rhythm in praise of the sun, and the flag of our village is raised high into the sky to declare their victory.
Nautika: I was the best dog-and-reindeer trainer of my age. I always thought I would be the one to beat the drum one day.
Sonetto: ...
Nautika: But now, even my sled dogs are gone. They were so brave to venture all the way to Antarctica with me.
Nautika: I ...
Her eyes drop. The words still don't come.
Her fingers twist back together, untwist, then twist again.
Nautika: I'm not that girl anymore.
Vertin: ...
The air feels damp, damper than it has any right to be on this cold, dry continent.
Sonetto turns and pulls out a thick stack of documents meticulously organized, as always.
Sonetto: Ms. Amundsen, I thought you would like to see this.
Nautika: An expedition diary?
Nautika: Oh! Did you take all these from Shackleton Station?
Vertin: Yes. Due to the urgency of the situation, we were only able to grab a few documents.
Vertin: We thought you'd have liked to look through them, had we not encountered those rabid dogs, so we took what we could before we left.
Nautika: A Survey of the Antarctic Critter Biosphere, An Indexed Dictionary of Arcane Runes ... A Polar Guide to the Arcane Cultivation of Vegetables!
Nautika: Incredible! Fantastic! With this, we may finally master how to grow potatoes in polar regions!
Under the dim light, Nautika's face flushes red with emotion.
A long time passes before she realizes she's been lost in her reading.
She gathers each precious page, then looks up at her new teammates. There's a conflict burning in her eyes.
Nautika: Thank you. Thank you so much.
In the end, all she can manage is to repeat her thanks.
Vertin: It was worth the risk.
The scent of canned food lingers as each savors both the fullness of their bellies and the rare moment of peace.
Sonetto: ...
Vertin: What are you looking at, Sonetto?
Sonetto closes the door, looking very grave.
Sonetto: The sun doesn't seem to have moved at all since we last calculated the angle, Timekeeper.
Ms. Radio: Oh, is it the midnight sun? If only I had the eyes to see it.
Sonetto: Technically, it's autumn in Antarctica at the moment. Polar day only occurs in the summer months.
Vertin: Indeed. We've seen it rise and fall several times since we left from Tierra del Fuego.
Vertin: And even if it were the season for polar day, the solar angle would still vary.
Nautika's breathing once again picks up speed as their analysis progresses.
Nautika: No. No, it can't be.
Nautika: All these abnormal phenomena, the sun standing still in the sky, that aurora in the broad daylight—
*boom*
Nautika: Agh!
Ms. Radio: What? What's that sound?
Ms. Radio: Are we in an avalanche? No, it sounds like the screaming of critters.
Sonetto: Timekeeper, take a look at this.
They burst out from the station's door.
Weird creatures flap their wings in the cold wind, hissing desperately at the intruders.
Nautika: It's the Snow Monsters. Their flying beasts.
Sonetto: Ms. Amundsen, stay back.
COMBAT
With a piercing shriek, the Olitiau plummets from the sky.
And as if perfectly aligned, it lands square and heavy on their poor snowmobile.
Nautika: No, no, no, no, no.
She dashes out, desperate to save the vehicle teetering on the edge of destruction, only to be held back by her companions.
Sonetto: Don't—!
Flames shoot out first, followed by a screeching roar,
rising to its grand finale: a spectacular explosion.
The transmission tears free from the blast.
The snowmobile lies scattered across the white ice field, flames still licking over its spilled fuel tank.
Blinded by the smoke rising from the fire, they make out a glowing mass that brightens the endless daylight sky.
Nautika: No ...
Nautika: That was our only means of transportation.