Northeastern Greenland, the heart of the ice sheet.
Beneath millennia-old ice layers lay structures not formed by nature. This was not Zero Station's mythically grand hall; instead, it exuded a resilient, utilitarian quality—the Corona Borealis outpost of the Aurora Research Institute was more like a stubborn beetle embedded in the ice, powered by geothermal energy and limited fusion reactors.
Inside the control room, the air carried the crisp scent of cooled metal. Dr. Elena Roth withdrew her fingers from the neural interface terminal, faint arc burns stark against her pale skin. She let out a slow breath, her voice trembling slightly with exhaustion:
"Signal sent. Energy signature confirmed… It is indeed the primary Anchor from Zero Station. Her frequency… immensely powerful, yet wildly chaotic—like a perpetual energy storm."
"Powerful and chaotic usually means uncontrollable and high-risk," replied Loki Thorsen, former Nordic Alliance Special Tactics Commander and now security chief of Corona Borealis. His knuckles remained white on the railgun's handguard, sharp eyes scanning every monitor feed. "We know nothing of their current status or intentions. Elena, are you certain this isn't another meticulously designed trap? Like 'Gu Yu'?"
From the shadows in the corner, the large, imposing figure of Sigurd Kapralik slowly raised his head. An engineer, geologist, and inheritor of Inuit shamanic traditions, he spoke in a voice low as grinding ice:
"Ancient songs have long warned: awakening the sleeping ice giant will inevitably bring an avalanche that devours all. Zero Station was never a friend or foe—it is the storm itself, woven from nature and ancient technology. And we have just sent an invitation into the eye of that storm."
His words cast a brief silence over the control room, broken only by the low hum of equipment and the eternal howl of wind outside. The three of them, the core of the Aurora Research Institute here, embodied three different wills: Elena's pure thirst for knowledge, Loki's absolute insistence on risk control, and Sigurd's profound reverence for natural law. This internal tension was as palpable as the external uncertainty.
"Precisely because it's unknown, we must make contact," Elena insisted, pulling up a set of complex sonic and geomagnetic data. "You've all monitored the violent fluctuations in the global consciousness field over the past seventy-two hours. The collapse pattern of the Psi network wasn't random; it followed some kind of 'Return' protocol we cannot yet comprehend. This proves a fundamental change occurred within Zero Station, not mere destruction. We need to know what it is. This touches the very reason for the Corona Borealis outpost's existence—and for the Institute as a whole: to observe, to understand, and, if necessary, to guide."
Just then, the main console emitted a soft yet distinct chime.
"They've replied," Elena's voice tightened.
The message was brief, heavily encrypted, but its underlying structure shared roots with their own Atlantean syntax:
"Zero Station confirms receipt. Local Anchor requires stabilization. State your purpose and the meaning of 'Aurora'."
Loki immediately turned to the signal analysis panel. "Source confirmed, Zero Station. No detectable spoofing. But they admitted a weakness—'Anchor instability.' That could be sincerity… or bait."
Sigurd closed his eyes, fingers brushing the console's metal surface as if reading hidden vibrations. "Words are like ice: smooth on the surface, yet fissures spread beneath. They are full of vigilance, but also… utterly exhausted. The Navigator's—Su Xiaolan's—soul-light flickers unsteadily."
Elena worked the interface swiftly. "They're asking our 'meaning.' This is both a probe and an opportunity. We must answer in a way that shows value without revealing too much." She looked at the other two. "Proposal: send Protocol 7. Share non-critical environmental data, demonstrate our unique grasp of 'Custodian Mode,' and extend another invitation for limited data-layer interfacing. It's the first step to building trust."
Loki was silent for several seconds, then finally nodded. "Agreed. But we embed the highest-level monitoring protocol. The moment they attempt traceback or decryption, we'll know—and sever the link immediately." Security was always the first priority.
Sigurd also nodded slowly. "Ancient wisdom says: to measure the water's depth, one must first cast a stone. Let our stone carry both respect and caution."
Elena drew a deep breath and reconnected to the interface port. This time, she wove their consensus into a complex data stream: real-time monitoring data on Greenland ice sheet stability from Corona Borealis; a summary of their research on the link between geomagnetic poles and the consciousness field; and a carefully crafted proposal for establishing a secure data exchange channel.
Message sent.
Wordless, the three in the control room turned their gazes to the thick blast-proof viewports, beyond which lay only eternal polar night and endless ice. They had just cast a stone weighted with knowledge, vigilance, and ancient prophecy into unfathomable darkness.
Now, they too waited for an echo.