Journey North.

Narrator: Eight hours later four chinooks approached the Eisenhower's flight deck. Three of them carried personnel and the fourth carried equipment. Sarah had boarded the Eisenhower ready for there arrival. Fiona had return to Hydra to take command in Sarah's absence. The first Chinook touched down and started to disgorge the personnel.

Narrator: The Chinooks' rotors whipped dust-devils across Eisenhower's corpse-like deck as Sarah stood silhouetted against the setting sun. The lead investigator emerged – Dr. Aris Thorne, biohazard suit gleaming like obsidian beneath rotor wash. His team fanned out with Geiger counters and spectral scanners.

Narrator: Thorne's gloved hand gripped Sarah's forearm – not a greeting, but a biometric sensor taking pulse and temperature. "Captain Roberts," his voice buzzed through helmet speakers. "My condolences on Griggs." Behind him, a containment team rolled cryo-tanks toward the galley freezer.

Dr Thorne: Thorne gestured to Griggs' uniform in the isolation bay image on his tablet. "The UV-reactive welts..." *He zoomed in on the spiralling patterns.* "They match Chernobyl's 'liquidator lesions' – but Chernobyl didn't *vaporize* people." His scanner suddenly screamed – not radiation, but tracing the fractal geometry in Griggs' frostbite scars. "Captain, did she mention *cold*... or *darkness*?"

Capt Sarah Roberts: Sarah's breath fogged her visor. *Griggs' final whisper – 'not cold, Captain... empty' – echoed.* "She said the freezer felt... *hollow*." She kicked a deck plate; the *clang* scattered dust-devils. "Your scans picking up residual traces? The reactor's uranium didn't just vanish."

Dr Thorne: "It is possible that cold stops whatever attacked the crew and also maybe darkness. However we still do know why it reduces males to dust and takes the females. We will have to examine the uniforms."

Capt Sarah Roberts: Sarah led Thorne toward the galley freezer, her boots crunching through dust-that-was-sailors. *Cold stopped this?* The thought ignited hope – perhaps they could fight this. As they reached the freezer door, she noticed something new: frost patterns spiralling like those blue welts on Griggs' skin. "Doctor... look at the ice formations."

Dr Thorne: Thorne's scanner whined as he traced the frost fractals. "*Self-replicating crystal lattice,*" he muttered, breath fogging his visor. A tech scraped samples into cryo-vials that instantly frosted over. "Captain, this isn't natural ice. It's... *structured*. Like technology frozen mid-assembly."

Capt Sarah Roberts: Sarah kicked the freezer doorframe, steel clanging through the silent galley. "Structure implies intelligence." *Griggs' final word – 'empty' – suddenly felt like a warning.*

Dr Thorne: Thorne's scanner pulsed crimson as he aimed it at the fractal frost. "Captain... this lattice?" His voice cracked. "It's identical to Commander Griggs' subcutaneous patterns. Her welts weren't frostbite. They were infection vectors.*"

Capt Sarah Roberts: Sarah recoiled from the freezer door, icy dread slithering down her spine. *Infection vectors. Transmission.* "Seal this compartment," she snapped at Thorne's team. "Now." Through her comms, static hissed as she hailed Hydra. "Fiona? Lock down medical bay quarantine protocols. Whatever took Griggs... it's airborne."

Dr Thorne: Thorne jammed a cryo-probe into the fractal frost, his scanner screaming as blue light pulsed through the lattice. "Not airborne, Captain," he rasped, watching ice crystals reform instantly. "It’s *catalytic*. Triggered by specific EM frequencies." He pointed his device at the reactor log page Sarah held – the black stain shimmered like oil on water. "*That’s* the carrier wave. The good news is it is not contagious we cannot catch it from touching out surroundings. I believe this is a man made infection that has to be directed.

Capt Sarah Roberts: Sarah stared at the pulsing stain on the log page, Thorne's revelation slicing through her dread. *Catalytic. Directed.* She tapped her comm. "Gina? Run deep-spectrum analysis on all radio logs from Eisenhower's final hours. Hunt for anomalous frequencies." Outside, the Chinooks' rotors thumped like a dying heart. "Doctor, if this is weaponized... who targets only men and nuclear fuel?"

Dr Thorne: Thorne scraped fractal ice into a vial, watching it regrow instantly like crystalline mold. "Gender-selectivity suggests tailored biotech – Cold War experiments gone feral." His scanner chirped suddenly, projecting a hologram: Griggs' welts overlapping with Eisenhower's frost patterns. "Captain, these formations? They're *receivers*. Waiting for activation." He pointed to the black stain. "*That's* the trigger. Burn it. Now."

Narrator: Sarah flicked her lighter beneath the contaminated log page – but the sludge burned as the paper burnt to nothing.

Pty Officer Gina Carr: "Skipper we are picking twenty contacts heading towards Eisenhower's position. They are the ocean going tugs coming to two the fleet back to Subic."

Narrator: The tugs had been instructed not to use any electrical messaging. They had to rely on old tech meaning lights and morse.

Capt Sarah Roberts: Sarah's binoculars sliced through twilight haze as the tug fleet approached – sixty nautical miles out and closing fast. "Gina? Confirm those contacts aren't emitting – EM silence protocol stands." *Her knuckles whitened against the cold steel railing.* If Thorne was right about EM triggers, one stray radio pulse could turn Eisenhower into a slaughterhouse again.

Dr Thorne: "Captain those tugs cannot be allowed to take the carrier group to Subic. It is to warm they need to be taken to the Artic where there is minimal chance of EM trigger and it is cold to hold the infection in check."

Capt Sarah Roberts: Sarah's comm crackled to life – "Fiona take Hydra away from the fleet over the horizon. Then send a message to Admiral Cain. 1) Infection triggered by EM signals. 2) Cold seems to slow or halt infection. 3) Infection seems to be made made and directed. 4) Subic is to warm to being the fleet. 5) Fleet will be towed to Artic where the cold climate will help curtail the infection.

Commander Fiona White: Fiona's voice snapped through the speaker, tight with tension. "*Aye Captain – Hydra diving now.*"

Narrator: Hydra slipped beneath the waves like a ghost, leaving Sarah alone on Eisenhower's haunted flight deck with Thorne's team. The tug fleet crept closer through the dusk, their navigation lights winking like malevolent eyes against the violet horizon. Sarah gripped the rail, tasting salt and ozone – and beneath it, the metallic tang of dread. Somewhere the relief crew had started a generator which supplied the Eisenhower with some power for lights.

Narrator: Meanwhile one hundred miles away Hydra raised its EM mast and fired off the message to Admiral Cain.

Narrator: Admiral Cain paced Subic Bay's war room, Sarah's transmission scrolling crimson across tactical screens. She drafted a message addressed to Sarah that she would have to take command of the decision making as EM messages would not be possible. It was sent to Hydra and when the message was acknowledge she called her staff to get information on cold war experiments.

Commander Fiona White: Fiona scanned Hydra's depth gauges as the message arrived – *260 meters below thermal layers, EM mast retracting*. She punched coordinates into the nav computer, icy dread pooling in her gut. "Helm, plot course for Arctic ice shelf coordinates Whiskey-Seven." The sub tilted downward, pressure hull groaning like a wounded beast.

Narrator: Up on the bridge of the Eisenhower Sarah watched as the tugs took position one pulling at the head and one at the stern pushing and acting as a rudder. An ensign came up to Sarah and handed her a message that had been transcribed from morse code. The message was from Fiona.

Capt Sarah Roberts: Sarah unfolded the damp paper, Fiona's morse transcription stark against seawater stains: *"Admiral Cain confirms. Fleet diverted to Arctic. Hydra shadowing you at periscope depth. Thorne's team found something."* Her gaze snapped to the galley deck below – Thorne’s UV lamps cast jagged blue shadows through portholes. *Catalytic receivers. Waiting.* She crumpled the message. "Ensign, relay to tugs: maintain EM silence. One spark..." Her voice trailed off as distant ice groaned against the hull.