The Arctic wind bites into the bones. An old research ship plows through chunks of ice, surrounded by countless icebergs, battered by a relentless white storm. Inside, four figures sit silently, their mouths tightly shut. Tania, Yasmin, Victor, and Kane.
They are not wearing uniforms. There are no ranks on their clothes. They are just the remnants of a team that has lost everything. They lost their leader, Captain Andreas.
Yasmin stares intently at the small radar screen on the command table. “The signal appears every night at the same time,” she says softly. “The frequency is the same as the Promotheus Device, but the tone is like—”
“—a heartbeat,” Tania interrupted. Her voice sounded hoarse. “I know. I’ve heard it in my dreams every night.”
“You know about something like that?” Victo
