My fingers press against the cold skin, searching for a pulse before pulling away. There's nothing.
Tide Shaper's eyes glisten with pain, and Muse Omen gnaws on her lower lip, turning her gaze away. The weight of the frozen bodies presses in on the group. The pilots of our Voyager—caught too late, frozen alive by the ice storm's merciless grip.
I close my eyes for a brief moment, sending a silent prayer to the Sun, a fleeting hope that it reaches something beyond the void. Then I turn back, walking toward the rest of the team.
Akira had already scouted the area. The massive tree before us—a gnarled, frost-crusted sentinel—was perfect for a makeshift base. Its roots rose just enough to create a hollow underneath, a small shelter from the ice-laden wind and relentless ice storms. Beneath it, we could settle for the night, shielded from the worst of the Expanse's wrath.
As Salients, we had no need for warmth, as the exosuit would take care of all body regulations. The only immediate concerns were food and water. Thankfully, water could be found anywhere on the Frostveil Expanse. Food, though? Surviving was hard enough for Salients, let alone wildlife.
I crouch down, ducking under the roots of the tree before spotting Akira sitting to the side, running calculations on her arm.
I sit down beside her, gazing at the numbers on the screen. "Running hypothetical scenarios is just going to mess up your head." I tell the girl softly, patting her head with a hand. Her metal eyes blink before she sets down her arm and closes the calculations.
"I'm gathering data." She replies, letting out a soft huff, fingers playing with the hem of her dress. Silently, I'm grateful for the fact that she's a cyborg. I didn't have to worry about food or keeping her warm. My eyes flick to the other Salients. Blade Psalm is sitting close to his human Liaison, their arms brushing, his exosuit glowing from the heat being shared.
Muse Omen is in the same boat, her suit pulsing softly as she warms the body of a young human boy, who, like Akira, has cyborg parts, but only on his legs, nowhere else.
Tide Shaper, Petal Bloom, and Lingering Touch all have alien Liaison's. I recognize the races immediately. Tide Shaper sits beside a Lumivan, a native to Orin-Kai and an amphibious alien. Petal Bloom speaks to a Fangvine, native to Thessalyth, while Lingering Touch has a younger-looking Mistling in his arms.
Although aliens, like humans, required food to function, they only needed it periodically, which would help lessen the load.
After a few more seconds, I speak up.
"We'll need to go out in groups," I say, meeting each of the other Salients' eyes. "Food is the highest priority."
Blade Psalm and Muse Omen are the first to nod.
"I'll take food," Blade Psalm says, his voice hoarse. It was the first time he'd spoken since boarding the Voyager.
"I'll go with you," Muse Omen adds quickly. The younger Salient sits up straighter as she speaks, eager to prove herself.
I nod before turning toward the others.
"Lingering Touch and I will scout the surrounding area."
Petal Bloom rises to her feet before I can continue.
"Then Tide Shaper's with me. We'll look for relics, abandoned structures, or signs of Echo activity."
The plan is simple. Efficient.
Yet before anyone can move, Blade Psalm speaks again.
"Why?"
My gaze shifts to him.
His expression is hard, arms folded across his chest as he looks around our makeshift shelter.
"The Voyager is gone," he says. "The pilots are dead. We don't know how long this storm will last."
His eyes briefly flick toward the cluster of Liaisons beneath the roots.
"Our mission can wait."
Petal Bloom's jaw tightens.
"Our mission is the reason we're here."
"Our mission won't matter if people start dying."
"Salients don't die from missing a meal."
Blade Psalm shakes his head.
"Our Liaisons do."
Silence settles beneath the tree.
The wind howls through the frozen branches overhead, carrying sheets of ice across the endless white landscape.
For a moment, nobody has an answer.
Petal Bloom eventually folds her arms.
"If Command wanted us extracted, they'd have contacted us already."
"And if they can't?" Blade Psalm counters.
"They've lost contact before."
"They've never lost contact for this long."
The argument threatens to continue before Tide Shaper suddenly speaks.
"Doesn't this feel strange?"
The younger Salient is staring toward the storm.
Everyone follows her gaze.
"What does?" Muse Omen asks.
"The storm."
Tide Shaper hesitates.
"The timing."
Nobody responds immediately.
"This might be just an odd coincidence, but we entered Frostveil airspace, and then suddenly a storm appears strong enough to take down a Voyager? Maybe it's normal here, but..."
She trails off.
"But what?" asks Lingering Touch.
"It felt like it was waiting for us."
A few of the others exchange uncertain glances.
Blade Psalm lets out a short breath.
"It's Frostveil. Storms happen."
"Not like that," Tide Shaper insists.
"The pilots said it appeared out of nowhere."
My attention shifts toward Akira.
The small cyborg has gone completely still. At first, I think she's simply listening, but then her eyes flash blue. A second later, they flicker red.
Then blue again.
A familiar feeling settles in my stomach.
Something is wrong.
"Akira?"
She doesn't answer.
Instead, a holographic display unfolds from her wrist. Numbers flood the projection, atmospheric readings and flight data scrolling faster than I can process. The others gather closer as the calculations continue.
Finally, Akira speaks.
"Correction."
The single word causes everyone to fall silent.
The hologram shifts, transforming into a three-dimensional map of Frostveil Expanse. A blue spiral appears above the terrain, marking the storm's position. Another point highlights the Voyager's flight path.
"The storm did not move toward us."
A frown pulls at my brow.
"What?"
Akira zooms in.
"The storm remained stationary."
The holographic map rotates.
For a few seconds, nobody speaks.
Then realization slowly settles over the group.
The storm hadn't chased us.
The Voyager had flown into it.
My eyes narrow.
"Explain."
"The Voyager altered course fourteen minutes before impact," Akira says. "Unknown atmospheric interference affected navigation systems."
The display fills with more calculations. Probability percentages. Wind patterns. Energy readings. One after another, they appear before being dismissed.
Each result is rejected.
Each possibility ruled out.
Finally, a red marker appears at the center of the storm.
The atmosphere beneath the tree changes instantly.
"What is that?" Tide Shaper asks quietly.
Akira's gaze remains fixed on the display.
"No known atmospheric origin."
Blade Psalm stares at the projection.
"That's impossible."
Akira shakes her head.
"No."
The red marker pulses. A strange energy signature spreads outward from its center. My chest tightens.
"Unknown Echo signature detected."
Nobody moves.
Nobody speaks.
Unknown.
Not Salient.
Not Swarm.
Unknown.
Beside me, Eidolon falls completely silent.
For the first time since the crash, I can't feel its amusement or hunger pressing against the back of my mind.
Only attention.
Focused entirely on the red marker hovering above Akira's wrist.
Then a single thought drifts through our connection.
Soft.
Uneasy.
Almost afraid.
"I know that signal."