The briefing for the simulation was about to wrap up.
Klaus:
That is all.
Greenwatch Squadron streaked across the quadrant in pursuit of their quarry. Another Marauder probe had again entered Hundeerde Space. The probe was fast and agile, clearly equipped with the ability to anticipate, react, and avoid its pursuers. Of all the recorded probe encounters so far, they did not appear to have any ability to fire back or make any other offensive manoeuvres.
Even so—
It was proving decidedly difficult to catch.
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Grounded from flying for one week.
Assigned a cleaning list of all the shared male ablution blocks — shipwide.
10 blocks in total.
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Lieutenant Lewis Vale (“Echo”), at just 17, would ordinarily have been too young to have joined the Hundeerde Space Defence and Communications Network; however, he was bright and intelligent. Bright enough to have passed all of the entry requirements by the time he was 15. The one and only requirement that he had not been able to meet was his age, normally set at 18. This had been taken care of by the one and only Hunde who could override the entry rule.
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❄️ Norðvik High Arctic Research Base: Day 7
The call came through on Rebecca’s phone early, the caller’s name flashing on the screen.
Sanna Korhonen.
Rebecca stepped aside from the main room and into the hall, the door easing shut behind her as she answered. It was the call she had been dreading.
Sanna’s voice was steady.
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❄️ Norðvik Hospital — Day 6
Inside Norðvik Hospital, the usual hum of its early morning routine carried through the corridors.
Staff arrived for their morning shifts, stopping by the coffee shop, hot drinks in hand to start their day. Institutional fluorescent lighting ran the length of the corridors as the cleaners mopped the floors, deploying a trail of wet floor signs as they went. Night shift handovers were well underway.
Eugene paused at the doorway, one hand resting briefly on the frame as he adjusted his mask. He pressed quickly at the bridge of his nose.
He took a breath and stepped inside.
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❄️ Nearing the summit of Vindskarð Pass — “The Wind Notch”
❄️ The Storm: Day 3
The wind had eased enough that the storm’s mood was a little more contemplative, as if assessing its next move. The climb out of Norðvik had been long and sustained. Visibility had opened enough to travel, but the terrain remained cloaked with fresh snow and deep wind-blown drifts.
The hunde in the lead would need to remain cautious, optimising for speed over safe arrival.
General Jake “Ice-pick” Husky, the Arctic Division Commander, had taken immediate and direct command of the rescue. Huxley was not only a well-respected Arctic expedition commander but he was also a personal friend. The two old war dogs, kriegshunde, shared a long and colourful history.
The sled dogs pulled smoothly, not too fast and not too slow. They had been moving like this for hours. The three teams steadily clocked off each waypoint, bringing them a little closer to their planned rest stop, a bivouac site where they would drop most of their heavier items, a small marked cache of vital supplies: shelter, food, and medical. The supplies would remain ready and waiting for their return to the lee of the pass. Following a brief rest during the darkest hours, the teams would soon crest the pass and then make the shorter, steeper, switchback descent into the glacial valley below.
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Thermal Array – 3: Research Drilling Station, High Arctic
❄️ The Storm: Day Two
The storm did not pass; instead, it strengthened.
Through the second day, severe katabatic winds drove down from the heights, pummelling every surface, every line, and every anchor point.
The tents flexed continuously under the sustained force, snapping back and forth against their anchors as fabric and seams strained to their limits.
Small tears had begun to appear in the outer shells, while snow drifted and built up along the sides and across the roofs, adding further weight and stress.
A sharp, whip-like crack sounded from just outside the main tent.
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Thermal Array – 3: Research Drilling Station, High Arctic
❄️ The Storm: Day One
At 06:03 precisely, it hit.
There was no polite prelude and there was no gentle build-up. The storm hit with a ferocity that no-one expected.
The first impact came not as a sound, but as force, roaring in like a freight train, a wall of moving air slamming into the camp hard enough to make the tents shudder violently against their anchors. The wind was immediately accompanied by thick snow, driven sideways in dense, blinding sheets.
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Screw Pile Developments 