The snow didn't crunch. It whispered.
Dane adjusted his grip on the right haptic bar and shifted weight slightly inside his rig. The exo-shell read the intention and rebalanced the mech's legs—quiet hydraulics adjusting to the uneven shelf. Class I frames weren't built for deep snow, but they were adaptable enough. Especially when the sync was clean.
Above him, the atmosphere roiled. Pale cloud sheets drifted fast under weak light. Winterhold's upper winds always moved like something was chasing them.
Across the open channel, Instructor Meros' voice barked through the squad comms. "Team Theta, confirm integrity. First maneuver circuit."
"Online," Tavi responded first.
"Confirmed," Serin followed. Crisp, exact.
Kael clicked in next, voice flat but steady. "Ready."
Dane toggled in. "Operational."
The other cadets—Vellin, Juno-Seven, Arrek, Hollen, Myr, and Cesta—all confirmed in sequence, their voices sharp but subdued. No one wanted to stand out during a surface drop. Not out here.
"Line advance. Maintain diamond formation. No idle sync chatter."
The unit moved.
Theta's march across the ice shelf was quiet but tense.
Their frames left shallow depressions in the frost—deliberate, lightweight steps calculated by the onboard terrain software. The chill seeped through even hardened frame insulation. Not enough to bite, just enough to remind you you weren't home.
Dane kept Kael on his left flank, slightly behind him.
Kael was off. Not sluggish. Not wrong. Just… listening too hard.
Twenty minutes in, they hit the drop site.
"Site markers detected," called Arrek from the rear line.
Tavi moved forward, her mech's slim build perfectly suited for sensor work. "Thermal's off," she said after a pause.
"How off?" Dane asked, already feeling the tension shift.
"Core temp reads seventy kelvin under the shelf." She recalibrated. "That's at least forty above baseline. Could be residual tech bleed."
"Movement?"
"None. No shifting mass. No surface fracture."
Dane toggled the channel. "Instructor, we've got sub-thermal irregularities. Site Three's sitting on heat."
"Define the cause."
"Could be industrial. Could be Concord relic."
Silence. Then: "Log it. Passive only. No breach. Mark coordinates and withdraw for scan team dispatch."
Tavi deployed a microdrill from her rig's underslung arm.
The probe whirred into the ice, sending live data to her wrist screen.
"Getting resistance. Soft density shift—this isn't a natural shelf," she said.
Dane turned slightly, scanning his squad. Most were waiting in alert posture, safeties on. Hollen and Cesta were checking flanks. Juno-Seven was running perimeter sweep. Professional. Disciplined. They wouldn't question orders unless someone above them did.
Kael hadn't moved.
Dane's eyes flicked to his friend's frame. Subtle posture shift—head tilted just a bit too long. Not scanning. Listening.
"You good, Kael?"
A pause.
"Yeah. Just a little interference."
That wasn't interference. It was something else.
Tavi's voice cut in again. "Drill tip just spiked. Temp jump. Seventy-eight. That's reactor-grade."
Dane moved fast, reaching his frame's manipulator arm to retract the probe.
As it came free, a faint vibration passed through the snow beneath them.
Only once.
Small. But enough for every mech in the unit to register the pulse.
"Did you feel that?" Myr asked across open channel.
"Geological?" Cesta added.
Tavi spoke slowly: "No tectonic record in this region. That was local."
Kael's voice came in low. "It's hollow."
Dane's rig turned toward him. "What?"
Kael's mech didn't move. His voice had changed—more like he was remembering than reporting.
"The pattern… it's not a fracture. It's door-locked. It's waiting."
No one responded.
Tavi's screen beeped sharply. A flatline.
The thermal signature disappeared.
The heat was gone.
~~
The pulse tent buzzed faintly under wind load, canvas shimmering with static from the ion shielding. Inside, a soft yellow lamp cast light across sleeping rigs and stripped sync suits. The squad was rotating rest cycles. Most were silent.
Dane sat near the entry vent, frame gloves in his lap. Kael lay stretched along the mat, staring at the ceiling insulation like it was going to open.
Tavi was typing quietly nearby, adjusting logs with her head tilted just off-axis.
"It's under there," Kael said.
No tension. No fear. Just certainty.
Tavi didn't glance up. "Thermal vanished. Your audio feed doesn't match your visual focus. You're reading anomalies into ice."
Kael turned his head slightly.
"I didn't see it."
Dane looked over. "Then what did you do?"
Kael blinked slowly.
"I heard it."