The data stream from the Aurora Research Institute pierced the tense darkness of Zero Station like a sudden, blinding light.
Wang Jing's fingers flew across the virtual keyboard, a fine sweat beading on his temples. On the terminal screen, the data packet from "Corona Borealis" was being deconstructed layer by layer, transforming into a waterfall of code and visualizations.
"Environmental monitoring data... unbelievably precise," he said, his voice dry with unmasked astonishment. "Their monitoring granularity of the Greenland ice sheet structure, atmospheric ionosphere, even subterranean heat flows, far surpasses any existing national-level agency. They predict... a super-large-scale ice storm is forming over the northeastern ice sheet, of an unprecedented energy level, expected to reach the Zero Station area in six hours."
A terrifying meteorological cloud map was projected onto the main screen—a massive, violently rotating white vortex, like a cold, giant eye opened by the ice sheet, crushing straight towards them.
Li Chenyuan's eyes sharpened instantly like blades: "How can they predict this so accurately? That in itself is a show of force. Notify everyone, reinforce external facilities immediately, prepare for extreme weather. We don't have time for guessing games."
"No! This precisely illustrates their value!" Lu Xingze retorted, his face almost pressed against another screen displaying the theoretical research summary provided by "Aurora." "Look at this! Their modeling of the correlation between geomagnetic pole shifts and global consciousness field disturbances... the approach is brilliant! This isn't Gu Yu's brand of control-obsessed madness; this is pure, ultimate scientific exploration! They are scholars, Chenyuan, explorers like us!"
"Explorers?" Li Chenyuan sneered. "Do explorers hide things in their first contact message?"
The conference room fell silent.
Wang Jing swallowed hard and manipulated the interface, calling up an anomalous beacon deeply encrypted, almost blended into the data's background noise. "He's right. They embedded... a highly concealed marker in the data packet. Not a virus, more like a... log fragment or a coordinate index that only reveals itself upon triggering."
All eyes focused on it.
"Can you crack it?" Su Xiaolan's weak voice came from the medical pod. She had propped herself up halfway, her face still pale but her gaze intently fixed on the screen.
"I'll try... need to bypass seventeen verifications... damn, this encryption is practically art..." Wang Jing concentrated utterly, a vein bulging on his forehead. Finally, the screen flickered, and a fragmentary piece of information popped up:
[…Corona Borealis stability critical… Energy core decay rate exceeds expectations… External scans detect multiple unidentified signal sources active in Sector-7… Recommend escalation to…]
The message cut off abruptly.
"Corona Borealis itself is in trouble?" Lu Xingze exclaimed.
"Sector-7? That's unclaimed ice field in international waters, how could there be unidentified signal sources? And multiple?" Li Chenyuan immediately sensed danger.
As everyone digested this startling discovery, Su Xiaolan spoke again softly, her brow slightly furrowed as if listening to a very distant sound: "They... are anxious. That marker... feels less like a scheme and more like... a message in a bottle they threw out in desperation. They are calling for help, in a way... perhaps only we can understand."
Her perception injected a note of human warmth into the cold data, making the situation even more complex.
"So, they show muscle while secretly asking for help?" Li Chenyuan summarized, his tone hardening further. "That only makes them less trustworthy to me. Desperation makes anyone unpredictable."
"But it might also be our only chance!" Wang Jing rarely raised his voice, pointing towards the seemingly eternal polar night outside the window. "The ice storm is coming! Communications could be down for days or even weeks after! We have two choices now: either risk establishing some form of contact with them before the storm hits, to gain more intel or even assistance; or, shut down all communications and ride out this storm alone in the dark, praying that unknown threat in 'Sector-7' doesn't come knocking!"
He proposed a compromise: "We don't reply about accepting their full data interface proposal. We only engage in a very limited, single data exchange—our non-core data on ancient climate shifts for their complete known intelligence on the 'unidentified signals in Sector-7'. This is both a probe and an exchange."
It was a high-stakes gamble. Trading a secret of the past for a warning about a future threat.
The deciding gaze ultimately fell on Su Xiaolan.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, feeling the faint yet tenacious resonance within her chest, and finally nodded: "Knowledge... shouldn't be used to isolate oneself. Tell them... we saw the 'message in a bottle'."
Zero Station's reply was succinct and shrewd:"Data received. Ice storm imminent. Offer 'Deep Cold Era Cyclone Data' in exchange for 'all current intelligence on Sector-7'. Channel will remain open for 30 minutes before storm severs comms."
The moment the message was sent, on Wang Jing's monitoring screen, the red leading edge representing the ice storm began swallowing the alerts from the outermost monitoring points. The countdown began.
And in the distant "Corona Borealis," Elena, Loki, and Sigurd wore complex expressions of shock and understanding upon seeing this reply.
The other party had not only fully understood their hint but had kicked the ball back in a bold and clever way.
"They are more perceptive, and more... daring, than we imagined," Elena said softly, her finger hovering over the reply key.
Loki, watching the deteriorating weather feeds from external monitors, nodded silently. Sigurd looked into the depths of the ice and whispered, "The storm sifts true allies. It is time to choose."
The two groups, separated by howling winds and endless ice, engaged in a silent, fate-determining data exchange within the rapidly diminishing time.
The countdown numbers on the screen, like an icy heartbeat, hammered against everyone's nerves.