Dawn broke over the frozen wasteland in shades of grey and blue, the early light casting long shadows across snow-covered ridges. Arthur checked his M-99 Saber's thermal clip while Ludmilla studied her tactical display, charting routes through terrain that would kill an unaugmented human in minutes.
"Before we move out," Ludmilla said without looking up, "I need to know something, Commander."
Arthur glanced at her. Alice was still packing supplies near the cave's rear, humming softly to herself.
"The way you talk about Nikkes," Ludmilla continued, her tone flat and analytical. "This equality rhetoric. Is it performance? A manipulation technique to squeeze more combat effectiveness from your assets?"
"Assets," Arthur repeated, his jaw tightening.
"That's what Central Command calls us. What most commanders believe we are." Ludmilla finally looked at him, her eyes hard. "So I'm asking directly—do you actually think you can be friends with Nikkes? Or are you arrogant enough to believe your own propaganda?"
The accusation hung in the cold air. Arthur could have deflected, could have given a political answer. Instead, he met her gaze steadily.
"Anyone I consider a friend is my friend," he said. "Nikke, human, or otherwise. That's not arrogance. That's just reality."
"Reality," Ludmilla echoed skeptically. "The reality where humans command and Nikkes obey?"
"The reality where I fight beside people I trust, and they trust me in return." Arthur's goddesium hand flexed unconsciously. "I chose these prosthetics so I could stand on the same battlefield as my squad. Not behind them. Not above them. *With* them. If that offends Central Command's doctrine, I don't particularly care."
Something shifted in Ludmilla's expression. Not quite acceptance, but consideration.
"You really believe that," she said. Not a question.
"I do."
Ludmilla was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly. "Research Base Seventeen contains all the intelligence on Pilgrims you'll need. Surveillance data, contact protocols, behavioral analysis. If you can find your squad and reclaim that base from the Queen's forces, the information is yours."
"Appreciated," Arthur said. "What about your squad's situation?"
"Autonomous operations aren't sustainable forever. We survive, but that's not the same as living." Ludmilla shouldered her rifle. "I'm curious how strong the Nikkes you command actually are. Your reputation suggests excellence, but the north has a way of exposing weakness."
Arthur allowed himself a small smile. "They can take you on anytime. Though I suspect you'd all rather fight together than against each other."
Ludmilla's answering smile was sharp and approving. "Satisfactory answer, Commander."
"Ready!" Alice bounded over, her energy incongruous with the harsh environment. "All packed and good to go!"
Arthur turned to her, his expression softening. "Alice, about this Queen of Hearts. When we find my squad and secure the base, we're going to deal with her. I'll fight by your side, and together we'll take her down."
Alice's eyes widened, then lit up with fierce joy. "You promise? You really promise?"
"I promise."
Ludmilla made a sound that might have been laughter. "You sound like a cool movie villain making dramatic declarations."
"Better than sounding like a bureaucrat," Arthur countered.
"Fair point." Ludmilla checked her gear one final time. "Alright, Commander. Get ready to leave."
Alice, who had started to settle in for what Arthur now realized was a habitual nap watch, immediately perked up. "Oh! Right! Moving out!"
They emerged into the pale morning, the frozen landscape stretching endlessly in all directions. Ludmilla led them through terrain that seemed identical to Arthur's eyes but clearly held distinct markers for someone with her experience. They moved in tactical formation, weapons ready, scanning for both Raptures and survivors.
Two hours into the search, Arthur's Omni-Tool pinged. Heat signatures ahead—multiple, moving in coordinated patterns. His pulse quickened.
"Contact," he said quietly. "Northeast, three hundred meters."
Ludmilla confirmed on her display. "Five signatures. Nikke thermal profiles."
They crested a ridge, and Arthur saw them. Team Bravo, weapons raised, moving in defensive formation across the snowfield. Relief hit him like a physical blow.
"Rapi!" he called out.
Her head snapped toward him. For one frozen moment, their eyes met across the distance. Then she was running, her tactical discipline forgotten, and Arthur found himself moving too, his prosthetic legs carrying him across the snow faster than any human should move.
They collided in the middle, Arthur's arms wrapping around her as she pressed against him, her fingers clutching his uniform.
"You're alive," Rapi breathed. "I thought—when the snow took you—"
"I'm here," Arthur said into her hair. "I'm okay."
"How touching," V drawled as the rest of Team Bravo approached. "Fearless leader emerges from an avalanche for an emotional reunion. Very cinematic."
Ocean's smile was gentle but amused. "Should we give them a moment? They seem... occupied."
Rapi pulled back, her cheeks flushing pink. Then her golden eyes fixed on Ludmilla and Alice, narrowing slightly. "Commander. You've made new acquaintances."
The emphasis on 'acquaintances' wasn't subtle. Arthur recognized the territorial assessment immediately.
"Squad Unlimited," he introduced. "Ludmilla and Alice. They pulled me out of the snow."
"How fortunate," Rapi said, her professional mask sliding into place even as she remained very close to Arthur's side. "We're grateful for your assistance."
Miranda was studying the newcomers with tactical interest. "Autonomous operations? Impressive survival record for—"
The snow beneath Ocean erupted.
Massive pincers emerged, segmented chitin reflecting pale light. The Rapture was enormous, its body a grotesque fusion of crab and spider, limbs spreading ten meters across. More burst from concealment around them—an ambush, perfectly coordinated.
"Crab variants!" Ludmilla's rifle was up and firing. "They burrow! Watch the ground!"
Arthur's Saber barked, enhanced rounds punching through armored shell. Beside him, Rapi's rifle sang its staccato rhythm, each shot precise and devastating. V's Mantis Blades deployed with a mechanical shriek as she launched herself at the nearest Rapture, katana flashing.
Flower's SMG chattered, suppressing a Rapture trying to flank Miranda, who responded with biotic-enhanced shots that shattered joints and sensory arrays. Ocean's rocket launcher painted the sky with fire, the explosion sending chunks of frozen Rapture across the battlefield.
"Delta formation!" Arthur commanded. "Don't let them separate us!"
Team Bravo moved like water, each member covering angles and creating overlapping fields of fire. Alice laughed with manic joy as she engaged, her movements surprisingly savage. Ludmilla fought with cold efficiency, decades of autonomous survival evident in every economical motion.
Arthur caught a Rapture with his Omni-Blade, the energy field carving through its neural core. Another tried to grab him from behind—Rapi was there, her rifle barrel pressed against its central processor before she fired.
"Thanks," Arthur said.
"Always," she replied.
The last Rapture fell to a combined assault from V and Alice, blades and bullets finding critical systems simultaneously. Silence returned to the snowfield, broken only by settling debris and heavy breathing.
"Everyone okay?" Arthur scanned his squad. Superficial damage, nothing critical.
"Intact," Miranda confirmed. "Though my thermal regulator took a hit. I'll need maintenance soon."
"That was fun!" Alice chirped. "You guys fight really well together!"
"They're adequate," Ludmilla said, which from her tone was high praise. "Commander, we should move before more arrive. The Queen's forces hunt in waves."
Arthur nodded, gathering both squads. "Brief version: Research Base Seventeen contains the Pilgrim intelligence we need. Ludmilla and Alice have been monitoring it. The plan is to reclaim it from hostile forces."
"Stealth approach?" Flower asked.
Ludmilla shook her head. "Not an option. The Queen has surveillance covering all approaches. Everything that enters or leaves gets tracked. We go in loud, or we don't go in at all."
"Full frontal assault then," Rapi said, her tactical mind already working. "What's the defensive composition?"
"Mixed Rapture forces, heavy on cold-adapted variants. Fortified positions. And potentially the Queen of Hearts herself, if we make enough noise." Ludmilla pulled up a holographic map. "The base has three entry points, but only the main gate offers proper cover for approach."
Arthur studied the terrain. "We'll need to move fast once we commit. Hit hard, secure the data, and extract before we're overwhelmed."
"Sounds like my kind of party," V said, checking her blade's edge.
Ocean raised a hand. "Question. This Queen—she's Tyrant-class?"
"Confirmed," Ludmilla said. "Which is why we've avoided direct confrontation."
"Our commander has a habit of killing those," Miranda observed. "Four confirmed terminations."
Ludmilla's eyebrows rose fractionally. "Four? The reports weren't exaggerated then."
"Reports never capture the reality," Rapi said quietly, her eyes on Arthur. "But we'll handle whatever comes."
***
Halfway across the world, in the warm, bustling commercial district of the Ark, Rupee was having a very different crisis.
"This is a disaster," she moaned, face-down on the conference table in the Talentum office. "A complete, unmitigated disaster."
Yan, elegant and composed as always, sipped her tea. "You're the one who declared yourself 'going steady' with the Commander on a live broadcast. What exactly did you expect?"
"I don't know! The question caught me off-guard! Ingrid was sitting right there!" Rupee lifted her head, her perfectly styled hair now slightly disheveled. "He doesn't even *know* yet! He's on some frozen mission with no communication!"
Dolla leaned back in her chair, smirking. "Your stream's viewership tripled overnight. From a business perspective, this is excellent publicity."
"From a personal perspective, I'm going to die of embarrassment before he even gets back!"
"You could always visit his penthouse," Yan suggested mildly. "Explain the situation to Anne and his other squad members."
Rupee paled. "Face Scarlet? And Lyra? And Nyx? Have you *met* them? They're terrifying! Scarlet probably sleeps with a gun under her pillow!"
"She does," Dolla confirmed. "I saw it during the fashion consultation."
"Not helping!"
Yan and Dolla exchanged amused glances. Despite Talentum's relatively recent entry into the streaming market—Rupee's impulse project from a few months ago—the show had exploded in popularity. Partly due to Rupee's genuine enthusiasm, partly due to the novelty of a Nikke-focused shopping program, but mostly because of moments exactly like this.
"You're overthinking," Yan said. "Commander Cousland treats Nikkes with respect. He's not going to be angry."
"But what if he thinks I'm presumptuous? Or manipulative? Or—"
"Or he might be flattered," Dolla interrupted. "You're beautiful, successful, and clearly interested. From what we know of his... expansive social circle, he's not opposed to additional connections."
Rupee buried her face in her hands. "I can't believe I'm getting relationship advice from my business partners."
"Neither can we," Yan said cheerfully. "But here we are. Now, shall we review the marketing data from the broadcast, or would you prefer to continue panicking?"
"Panicking," Rupee muttered. "Definitely panicking."