The ship hovered silently above the ice shelf. It was a drone, sleek and black, shaped like a manta ray. It carried no weapons. It carried sensors. Thermal imaging. Magnetic resonance. Ground penetrating radar.
Inside the command center of the flagship Leviathan, Hales watched the screen. The coastline was a mess of white and grey. Ice and rock. But there was a anomaly. A spot of perfect cold.
"Explain," Hales said. He pointed to the blue dot on the map. It was nestled against the ridge. Surrounded by warm zones. Geothermal vents. But this spot was zero degrees. Perfectly insulated.
"Could be a shadow," the technician said. He was young. Nervous. Hales had eaten men like him for breakfast.
"Shadows don't last three days," Hales said. "And they don't pulse."
On the screen, the blue dot
