Calista crouched beside the pigpen and reached in to feel the temperature inside the brooder, her brows tightly furrowed.
Despite everything they had done, the cold was still seeping in.
"What are the survival odds for these newborn piglets?" Calista asked Tommy as he walked over.
Tommy took off his hat, damp from his breath and already rimmed with frost, wiped his face, and looked grim. "It's hard to say, Miss Norton. The temperature's too low. They're too small, their fat layer's too thin, and they lose body heat very easily.
All we can do is try our best. Add thicker bedding, make sure the sow has enough food and warm water so she can produce enough milk.
The rest is up to them."
There was not much optimism in his voice.
Just then, Ming came stumbling through the wind and snow with a cloth-covered basket on her arm. Her glasses fogged over almost instantly.
"Calista! Tommy! Sarah!" Ming panted, lifting the cloth from the basket. Inside were several wooden buckets giving off faint wisps of steam.
"I... I made a broth with ginger, cinnamon twigs, and some dried herbs I saved earlier, the kind with warming properties.
It probably tastes awful, but if we give some to the weaker animals, maybe... maybe it can help drive out some of the cold and strengthen their resistance a little."
It was an attempt rooted in ancient Eastern wisdom. With medicine precious and veterinary supplies nearly impossible to come by, any natural method that might work was worth trying.
Mrs. Howard immediately supported the idea. "Good thinking! Ming, start by giving a little to the weaker sheep and cattle, and to the sow too!"
Calista looked at the tension and expectation in Ming's eyes, then nodded. "Do it. If you need any herbs, write them down and give the list to Ellie."
She watched as Ming and Sarah carefully used wooden spoons to mix the warm, strongly herbal broth into the livestock troughs, and a faint trace of hope rose in her heart.
...
Outside, Elena stood beside Black Bear Creek, watching more and more ice floes drift across the water, and sighed helplessly.
Construction on the second phase of the hydroelectric project had come to a complete halt.
The low temperature made concrete work impossible, and even metal tools stuck to the hand like blocks of ice. Working outdoors for too long brought a serious risk of frostbite.
The diversion channel excavation site, once full of promise, was now covered in a thin layer of snow and looked especially bleak.
"Professor, what do we do next? We can't just sit around waiting, can we?" Kevin asked, rubbing his nearly frozen fingers.
"Move indoors!" Elena ordered decisively, pulling the team back to the temporary wooden cabin at Blackberry Ranch that served as both office and living quarters.
A small iron stove burned inside the cabin. It was not much warmer than outside, but at least it kept out the biting wind.
"Aleksei, Ben, take people and do a full inventory of all our construction materials. Make a more detailed phased construction flowchart, and mark every temperature-sensitive step that has to be prioritized once spring comes!"
"Kevin, you and I will recalculate the efficiency model for the turbine blades under different low temperatures and water flow speeds. We need the data for the worst-case scenario!"
"When Ming gets back, she'll help calculate how the water flow in the diversion channel changes under partial icing and full freezing, along with any ice-breaking or insulation plans we might need!"
She spread the blueprints and calculation tools across the crude table.
The cold had forced outdoor work to stop, but it also gave them valuable time for deeper theoretical design and problem analysis.
In the hangar at Blackberry Ranch, Oliver was leading his newly formed, still inexperienced ground crew in a silent but crucial battle against the cold.
The internal structures of those aircraft were extremely sensitive to low temperatures.
"Focus on checking every hydraulic line joint! Make sure the seals don't turn brittle and fail because of the cold, and check whether the fluid has started to thicken!"
"Insulate the battery packs. Use every insulating material you can find. Foam, old quilts, anything. Wrap them carefully!"
"Move the landing gear and rotor hinge points. See if anything's frozen in place. Watch yourselves!"
Oliver's voice echoed through the empty hangar, edged with obvious anxiety.
He personally demonstrated each step, guiding Allen Miller and three other newcomers as they carefully used preheated blowers to slowly warm key components, then maintained them with special low-temperature lubricant.
"Oliver, this bottle of hydraulic fluid seems... off. It barely flows." One of the rookies held up a bottle and reported nervously.
Oliver hurried over, dipped a finger in, and found that the fluid was indeed unusually thick.
"Damn it! We're almost out of low-temperature-grade fluid. This is the regular kind. It'll congeal in the cold."
His brows drew together. "Write it down and report it to Rickson. Aviation hydraulic fluid and antifreeze are top-priority search items. These things can save lives!"
The ground crew was still short-handed, and everyone was working beyond their limits.
Allen Miller's professional background proved critical. He quickly understood Oliver's instructions and could lead the rookies through them.
But the bitter cold greatly reduced their efficiency. Even a simple maintenance step demanded far more time and effort.
Meanwhile, in the stable beside the main buildings of Rock Fortress, the atmosphere was just as tense.
Nine precious horses were kept there.
The people responsible for caring for them were Kent, a National Guard soldier who already had some experience raising horses and had now been urgently assigned here to help keep them warm, and Mikey, a mercenary who had volunteered to help.
"Hang that roll of straw matting over the doorway. We can't let the wind blow straight in!" Kent shouted.
He was straining to secure the heavy curtain woven from dry grass across the stable entrance.
It would block part of the cold wind while still allowing some ventilation.
Inside the stable, several horses stamped uneasily, breathing out thick white clouds.
They had already been covered with whatever they could find: old canvas, thick blankets, even patched-together tarps, all carefully tied over their backs with rope so their movement would not be restricted.
"Easy, I'll give you more dry straw!" Mikey kept carrying in armfuls of dry straw and spreading it thickly beneath each horse, forming a warm "carpet."
From time to time, he patted the neck of a slightly restless black horse and murmured softly to calm it.
Kent carefully checked each horse's hooves to make sure no snow or ice had packed in, preventing frostbite and lameness.
"Pay special attention to their water. Check it constantly. It can't be allowed to freeze!" Kent reminded them as he broke the thin layer of ice that had just formed in the trough and replaced it with slightly warm clean water brought from the kitchen.
In the corner of the stable, a small charcoal brazier provided limited heat. It was not enough to keep the whole place warm.
Its main purpose was to keep the trough from freezing and raise the temperature just a little.
Everyone was working at full speed to fight the cold.