They trudge upward through the deep snow.
Nautika: Great Mother Spirit ...
Nautika: I'm almost there. Just-Just a little farther.
Unsteady and fresh snowpack makes it nearly impossible to keep a steady footing.
Each step comes with a wobble as she rebalances herself.
Nautika: Traveling on foot was never a good choice for an expedition. Evil Snow Monsters!
Nautika: First sled dogs, then mad critters. grunt
Her ice ax slams deep into the packed snow.
Nautika: And now endless daylight. Endless glaring sun.
Nautika: Is all this because of that ritual? What the heck are those Snow Monsters trying to do?
Vertin: ...
Sonetto: Ms. Amundsen, how long until we reach the ruins?
Nautika: I don't know. I-I don't know.
Nautika: Careful. Something's coming.
A low, thunderous rumble vibrates the ground beneath their boots.
Sonetto: An earthquake?
Nautika: No, no, no, no, no, not an earthquake. Lower your body. Whatever you do, don't lose your footing.
The black substance surging beneath the ice shatters the frozen layers, erupting out over a distant ridge.
The creeping darkness spreads downhill, fracturing the earth as it advances toward the cluster of research stations.
Sled Dog: Woof ...
The polar wind carries faint, helpless howls from the same sled dogs that had chased them yesterday.
Nautika: The sled dogs, they're smart. They avoided the cracks very intelligently.
Nautika murmurs under her breath, unable to hide her concern.
Vertin: ...
Vertin: Nautika, you're a capable reindeer-and-dog trainer, right?
Nautika: ...?
Nautika: Oh, no-no. I-I really don't think that's a good idea. They tried to kill us yesterday.
Her protests die on her lips until, finally, she swallows up her remaining objections.
Nautika: W-Well, maybe I can give it a try. They might still have some sense.
On hands and knees, she scrambles up the slope.
Nautika: But it's been a while since I last gave any orders. W-What if they don't listen to me?
Vertin: Come on, Nautika. Time to "hit the drum."
Her eyes widen, then she nods.
Nautika: gulp You're right.
A long, clear whistle pierces the air from Nautika's chapped and cold lips as she waves her arms wildly.
In the distance, the frenzied sled dogs take notice and gradually quiet.
Nautika: Hike!
She sweeps her arm backward in a grand gesture.
Chaotic snow-scrabbling sounds carry from afar, the long-unruly dog team now stirring to command.
Nautika: You can do this, Nautika. Try again.
Nautika: Hike!
A pause hangs thick in the air.
The sound of barking dogs gets nearer as approaching paws churn the snow into a rushing tide of powder.
Nautika: Haw! Easy!
Nautika presses her palms downward.
Nautika: Get ready, everyone!
Her legs are shaking, but her eyes glitter with exhilaration.
Sonetto: Timekeeper, are we really going to do this?
The dog team is nearly upon them, still half-wild as they speed forward. Yet in a single swinging motion, Nautika pulls herself up and over the top of the lead sled dog.
Ms. Radio rustles, nearly tumbling from her perch.
Ms. Radio: Oh, holy mother of—What are we doing?
Sonetto: I-I have no idea.
Nautika: Straight ahead. Straight ahead! Hahaha!
The dogs charge downslope without hesitation, ignoring any potential pitfalls that may be hidden in the mist.
Nautika: Oh—Oh, right.
Nautika: Pet them around the head and neck. That will help you bond with them.
Vertin: I suppose that makes sense.
Fingers brush over a sled dog's head, coarse yet soft fur slipping between them.
Vertin: I hope Ulrich has come across friends as reliable as these.
Nautika presses low, burying her face in the soft fur behind the dog's neck.
Nautika: I did it. I did it.
Nautika: These are the biggest sled dogs I've ever seen.
Soldier I: Lieutenant, we have spotted a suspicious unit.
Moldir grabs the intercom and pulls it close, listening for messages cutting through the whiteout.
Soldier I: A schooner has come ashore due east. It appears to be alone.
Moldir: Team One and Two, come with me. Team Three, stay and keep watch.
With mutual trust, the disciplined soldiers move in perfect and silent synchronization, slipping behind a natural barrier near the ice shelf.
With an anchor's splash, the schooner drifts up against the icy shore.
Moldir: Target presents as unarmed, but we can't rule anything out yet.
Moldir: Team One, follow me.
Moldir: Team Two, stand by at Bunker A2. Keep your eyes on the coast. We don't want to be caught unaware if they send reinforcements.
Her hand held over her firearm, Moldir leads the infantry squad forward in measured strides.
Blinded by the whiteout, the schooner's passengers march themselves obliviously into the waiting ambush.
???: Sea sickness, whiteout, and judging by the trembling compass pointer, something's messing with the magnetic field here.
???: Boss, you're probably the least suitable person in the world to be doing this mission.
???: Shoot. I can already hear my silicon dioxide crackling.
???: Find a windproof bunker. I need to reapply the hydrophobic and cold-resistant coatings.
Moldir: Now!
Muzzles snap up in unison, all aimed at the Awakened and his guard.
???: ...!
Moldir: Sergeant Frekhtman, take two soldiers with you and search the schooner for any other threats.
At her signal, three armed soldiers advance through the swirling snow.
Moldir: You are under arrest.
An ID badge hangs conspicuously on the chest of the figure before them.
Moldir: Laplace researcher.
The ferrofluid inside his head morphs through multiple shapes at blinding speed.
Ulrich: That uniform ... Are you from Zeno? There must have been a mix-up. We have the official approval of the St. Pavlov Foundation.
After a prolonged silence, the guard interrupts his testimony.
Guard: Boss, I've seen their faces hanging in the Hall of Merit. So, unless they're ghosts ...
Guard: We've just stumbled upon the rebels.
Moldir closes her eyes briefly, as if avoiding a particular word.
Moldir: What is your purpose here?
Ulrich raises his right hand to the white mist, his left remaining in his pocket.
Ulrich: It's none of your business. All you need to know is that we're not a threat to you.
Guard: We came here alone, no backup.
A voice comes over the intercom.
Intercom: Lieutenant, the schooner is cleared. Only an unarmed sailor on board. The outpost confirmed that they haven't spotted any other ship.
Moldir: ...
Ulrich: Lower your gun, Lieutenant. We're not a threat.
Ulrich: We're just here to play a tune.
Moldir: A poor excuse, researcher.
Moldir: Please head back to where you came from. Now is not the best time to play sing-song in Antarctica.
Ulrich: I'm not leaving.
The Awakened raises his left hand, a grenade gripped within it—the pin already loose—the pressure of his fingers on the lever all that stands between the striker and the fuse.
Soldiers: !!!
Moldir: Fall back!
Moldir barks her squad back and advances alone, her firearm held high and steady.
Moldir: Calm down, sir. You're a researcher. Perhaps you should stick to the pursuit of knowledge and leave the explosives handling to me.
She locks onto the tiny silver lettering stamped on the grenade.
Moldir: ...
Moldir: RGD5-72-85-128-TTK-006.
Moldir: I know the owner of this grenade.
Moldir: After the first "Storm," all Zeno equipment was codified under a particular numbering system and distributed among the platoons.
Moldir: But the number on this grenade belongs to someone special. Someone in an independent team.
Moldir: Someone who has a unique code on all her equipment, including her famous Su-01ве flying device.
Moldir: A Slav.
Moldir: So, you've been in contact with Team Timekeeper.
Ulrich: And what if I have?
From the swirling pace of his ferrofluid, it's clear he's taken the question badly.
Ulrich: So the weapon that was supposed to protect me is the very thing that gave me away. How ironic!
With a wave, Moldir signals her squad to hold position while she holsters her gun, then grasps the grenade with one hand.
Ulrich: Are you out of your minds? This is a real grenade, you know. Powerful as 200 grams of TNT.
Moldir: Что было, то и будет.
The pin whips back into place. The spring retracts. Everything resets to its factory-new state.
Ulrich: Your arcane skill?
She offers no explanation as she wrenches the now-harmless grenade from Ulrich's grip.
Moldir: For the last time, what is your purpose here?
Is it about the Timekeeper, about Vertin?
