The Icy Breach on Cephestus-7
A critical power failure forces Anton and Gideon into the raging blizzard of Cephestus-7. As they battle the elements and the failing infrastructure of Frostfall Ridge Station, old community stories resurface, and their bond deepens under the most extreme conditions.
INT. FROSTFALL RIDGE / COMMS DECK - NIGHT
SOUND of a high-stress ALARM KLAXON, coupled with the deep GROAN of stressed metal.
The room is frigid. Breath plumes in the air. Emergency lights cast long, dancing shadows.
GIDEON (20s), frantic, gestures at a flickering HOLO-SCREEN. It’s a chaotic storm of RED and AMBER diagnostic lines.
GIDEON
> It's failing, Anton. Everything. The secondary failsafe just went. We're running on emergency power, barely.
ANTON (50s), face etched by harsh winters, leans against a durasteel bulkhead. His worn jacket is thick. He watches the screen, impassive but sharp.
ANTON
> Which conduit, precisely? Not the primary, surely. That line was reinforced after the '07 breach. Cost old Captain Petrov his leg, remember?
GIDEON
> Conduit Beta-7. The one feeding the south-west atmospheric processors and part of the main thermal regulators. Not the primary, no, but close enough to make us all freeze solid if it goes.
Gideon swipes a gloved hand across the screen. A schematic appears, highlighting a ruptured section.
GIDEON
> (CONT'D)
> It’s completely iced over, a full rupture, according to the external sensors. We're losing atmospheric pressure in that sector, slowly, but steadily. If we don’t get out there… soon…
Anton straightens. The creak of his leather jacket is loud in the tense room.
ANTON
> The storm’s a white-out, lad. Visibility’s less than a metre. You know what Command Protocol dictates for external repairs during a Category Five blizzard.
GIDEON
> Protocol also dictates that a complete station collapse, resulting in the loss of all personnel and vital infrastructure, is to be avoided at all costs.
Gideon meets Anton's gaze, a fire in his eyes.
GIDEON
> (CONT'D)
> And 'soon' means within the next standard hour, or the entire south-west quad becomes an ice tomb. The automatic de-icers are failing. The sheer volume of ice is overwhelming them. We need to physically reach it, manually clear the rupture, and apply the emergency patch. I’ve prepped the repair kit. Someone has to go.
A heavy silence, broken only by the station’s GROAN.
Anton pushes off the bulkhead. His boots echo on the metal deck plates as he walks towards a set of gear lockers.
ANTON
> Then someone shall. You've been monitoring external pressures. What's the best approach, given the wind shear? That Beta-7 run is notoriously exposed.
GIDEON
> The old maintenance tunnels, they’re still technically viable.
Gideon taps the holo-display. A new schematic shows a narrow, winding path deep within the station's foundation.
GIDEON
> (CONT'D)
> Built by the first wave. Less direct, but sheltered for the first half-klick. It’ll bring us out closer to the conduit’s base. My father used to tell stories about those tunnels, how they had to blast them by hand, inch by frozen inch.
Anton pulls two heavy-duty EXPEDITION SUITS from a locker. They are stiff, imposing. He hands one to Gideon.
ANTON
> A stubborn lot, those first generation. Stubborn, but smart. Right. The tunnels it is. Let’s get kitted up. And Gideon, bring your multi-tool. And an extra power cell. We'll need everything.
INT. DECON CHAMBER - MOMENTS LATER
SOUND of pressurized nitrogen HISSING.
Anton and Gideon stand in their expedition suits. The air smells metallic, sterile.
Anton moves with practiced economy, checking the seals on his suit. The internal heating coils HUM to life.
Gideon is less fluid, fumbling with the latches on his helmet. His breath fogs the visor before the anti-fog system kicks in.
ANTON
> (O.S.)
> (filtered through comms)
> Are you… alright, Gideon?
GIDEON
> (filtered)
> Right as I can be, considering we’re about to walk into a gale that could strip durasteel, Anton. Just… been a while since I was outside during a proper Category Five.
Anton gives Gideon's shoulder a firm, encouraging pat.
ANTON
> (filtered)
> There's a first time for everything, lad. Stick close. Watch your footing. And don't look down.
A heavy inner hatch HISSES open, revealing a narrow, unlit passage beyond.
INT. MAINTENANCE TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS
Utter darkness.
Anton activates his suit lamp. The beam cuts a crisp path through the gloom, illuminating rough-hewn rock walls and tangled, disused conduits.
They step inside. The heavy hatch seals behind them with a definitive THUD.
SILENCE. Only the FAINT HUM of their suits and the CRUNCH of their boots on gravel.
Faded PICTOGRAMS are spray-painted on the rock walls—stylized drills, pickaxes.
GIDEON
> (filtered, echoing slightly)
> My dad used to say these tunnels were their way of claiming this rock. Every metre gained was a victory against Cephestus-7.
ANTON
> (filtered)
> Aye. They weren't just building a station; they were laying the foundation for a home. We stand on the shoulders of giants, Gideon, in these very tunnels.
They navigate the twisting, claustrophobic passage. Anton leads, his larger frame pushing through tight spots, occasionally reaching back to guide Gideon.
Ahead, a faint, harsh glow becomes visible.
ANTON
> (filtered)
> That'll be the breach. Hold up.
EXT. FROSTFALL RIDGE / CONDUIT BETA-7 - CONTINUOUS
SOUND of a DEAFENING, HOWLING BLIZZARD.
The tunnel hatch opens into a blinding maelstrom of white. The wind is a physical force, tearing at them.
Visibility is zero. The light from their suit lamps is swallowed by swirling snow.
Gideon stumbles, his knee hitting fractured ice with a muffled CLANG.
ANTON
> (roaring over the wind)
> Hold!
Anton reaches back, his gloved hand finding Gideon’s arm, gripping it tight.
ANTON
> (CONT'D)
> Steady yourself! We move by feel!
Through the whiteout, a monstrous shape emerges. Conduit Beta-7, thick as a cargo transport, is now a grotesque sculpture of ice.
CLOSE ON a rupture in the conduit. Jagged, crystalline teeth of ice burst outwards. A thin, silvery-green VAPOR escapes, hissing into the gale. The cold is a palpable, physical presence.
GIDEON
> (filtered, breathless)
> My God… It’s worse than the diagnostics suggested. This isn’t just an emergency patch, Anton. This is a battle.
Anton pulls a heavy-duty ICE CHISEL from his pack.
ANTON
> (filtered)
> Aye. A battle. We start by clearing this ice. Carefully.
They begin the punishing work. Every swing of the chisel sends shards of ice flying. Gideon uses his MULTI-TOOL, its concentrated thermal blast melting stubborn sections with a high-pitched WHINE.
A violent GUST OF WIND, stronger than before, slams into them.
Anton braces, digging his boot-spikes into the ice.
Gideon, caught mid-swing, is torn from the conduit. He is airborne, held only by the safety tether clipped to Anton’s belt.
ANTON
> (a raw, animal roar)
> GIDEON!
With a grunt of pure adrenaline, Anton YANKS hard on the tether. Gideon SLAMS back against the pipe, coughing.
GIDEON
> (gasping)
> Bloody hell… Close one. Thank you.
ANTON
> No time for apologies, lad. Just focus.
They work with renewed, seamless precision. As Anton hammers away a final, stubborn section of ice... something is revealed beneath.
Not the corrugation of the conduit. Deliberately carved, intricate GLYPHS and SYMBOLS, etched into the foundation stone itself.
ANTON
> Hold, Gideon. Look at this.
He brushes away more ice. Gideon moves closer, shining his lamp on the discovery.
GIDEON
> What in the… This isn't standard Colonial script. It looks… older.
ANTON
> It is older. My grandmother… she used to talk about the 'Founders' Marks'. A ward against the planet's wrath. Thought it was just a myth.
Gideon stares at the pattern.
GIDEON
> A blessing? Or something more practical? This pattern… it almost looks like a circuit diagram.
He pulls up his multi-tool, switching it to a low-frequency scanner. The scanner emits a faint HUM.
CLOSE ON the scanner's display. It pulses with a soft, green light, indicating a hidden pathway beneath the conduit.
GIDEON
> (CONT'D)
> There's… there's another channel here. Running parallel to Beta-7, but deeper. Not on any of our current schematics.
A jolt of realization hits Anton.
ANTON
> A backup network the first generation built. Pride in their work, they called it. 'Leaving a stronger foundation for those who follow'.
They work quickly, applying the emergency patch to Beta-7. The vapor ceases its escape.
Gideon uses his multi-tool to carefully peel back a section of the outer conduit casing near the glyphs.
He reveals a small, recessed ACCESS PANEL, hidden behind crystalline growth. It HUMS faintly with power.
A low, resonant THRUMMING begins, felt through the conduit itself. The hum is getting stronger.
Anton reaches out, his gloved hand hovering over the panel.
ANTON
> This wasn’t in any of the archives. This… this changes things, Gideon. This changes everything.
Gideon looks from the glowing panel to Anton. The howling wind seems to fade into the background. All that matters is the quiet, resonant hum beneath their feet—a pulse from the past, reawakening.
SOUND of a high-stress ALARM KLAXON, coupled with the deep GROAN of stressed metal.
The room is frigid. Breath plumes in the air. Emergency lights cast long, dancing shadows.
GIDEON (20s), frantic, gestures at a flickering HOLO-SCREEN. It’s a chaotic storm of RED and AMBER diagnostic lines.
GIDEON
> It's failing, Anton. Everything. The secondary failsafe just went. We're running on emergency power, barely.
ANTON (50s), face etched by harsh winters, leans against a durasteel bulkhead. His worn jacket is thick. He watches the screen, impassive but sharp.
ANTON
> Which conduit, precisely? Not the primary, surely. That line was reinforced after the '07 breach. Cost old Captain Petrov his leg, remember?
GIDEON
> Conduit Beta-7. The one feeding the south-west atmospheric processors and part of the main thermal regulators. Not the primary, no, but close enough to make us all freeze solid if it goes.
Gideon swipes a gloved hand across the screen. A schematic appears, highlighting a ruptured section.
GIDEON
> (CONT'D)
> It’s completely iced over, a full rupture, according to the external sensors. We're losing atmospheric pressure in that sector, slowly, but steadily. If we don’t get out there… soon…
Anton straightens. The creak of his leather jacket is loud in the tense room.
ANTON
> The storm’s a white-out, lad. Visibility’s less than a metre. You know what Command Protocol dictates for external repairs during a Category Five blizzard.
GIDEON
> Protocol also dictates that a complete station collapse, resulting in the loss of all personnel and vital infrastructure, is to be avoided at all costs.
Gideon meets Anton's gaze, a fire in his eyes.
GIDEON
> (CONT'D)
> And 'soon' means within the next standard hour, or the entire south-west quad becomes an ice tomb. The automatic de-icers are failing. The sheer volume of ice is overwhelming them. We need to physically reach it, manually clear the rupture, and apply the emergency patch. I’ve prepped the repair kit. Someone has to go.
A heavy silence, broken only by the station’s GROAN.
Anton pushes off the bulkhead. His boots echo on the metal deck plates as he walks towards a set of gear lockers.
ANTON
> Then someone shall. You've been monitoring external pressures. What's the best approach, given the wind shear? That Beta-7 run is notoriously exposed.
GIDEON
> The old maintenance tunnels, they’re still technically viable.
Gideon taps the holo-display. A new schematic shows a narrow, winding path deep within the station's foundation.
GIDEON
> (CONT'D)
> Built by the first wave. Less direct, but sheltered for the first half-klick. It’ll bring us out closer to the conduit’s base. My father used to tell stories about those tunnels, how they had to blast them by hand, inch by frozen inch.
Anton pulls two heavy-duty EXPEDITION SUITS from a locker. They are stiff, imposing. He hands one to Gideon.
ANTON
> A stubborn lot, those first generation. Stubborn, but smart. Right. The tunnels it is. Let’s get kitted up. And Gideon, bring your multi-tool. And an extra power cell. We'll need everything.
INT. DECON CHAMBER - MOMENTS LATER
SOUND of pressurized nitrogen HISSING.
Anton and Gideon stand in their expedition suits. The air smells metallic, sterile.
Anton moves with practiced economy, checking the seals on his suit. The internal heating coils HUM to life.
Gideon is less fluid, fumbling with the latches on his helmet. His breath fogs the visor before the anti-fog system kicks in.
ANTON
> (O.S.)
> (filtered through comms)
> Are you… alright, Gideon?
GIDEON
> (filtered)
> Right as I can be, considering we’re about to walk into a gale that could strip durasteel, Anton. Just… been a while since I was outside during a proper Category Five.
Anton gives Gideon's shoulder a firm, encouraging pat.
ANTON
> (filtered)
> There's a first time for everything, lad. Stick close. Watch your footing. And don't look down.
A heavy inner hatch HISSES open, revealing a narrow, unlit passage beyond.
INT. MAINTENANCE TUNNEL - CONTINUOUS
Utter darkness.
Anton activates his suit lamp. The beam cuts a crisp path through the gloom, illuminating rough-hewn rock walls and tangled, disused conduits.
They step inside. The heavy hatch seals behind them with a definitive THUD.
SILENCE. Only the FAINT HUM of their suits and the CRUNCH of their boots on gravel.
Faded PICTOGRAMS are spray-painted on the rock walls—stylized drills, pickaxes.
GIDEON
> (filtered, echoing slightly)
> My dad used to say these tunnels were their way of claiming this rock. Every metre gained was a victory against Cephestus-7.
ANTON
> (filtered)
> Aye. They weren't just building a station; they were laying the foundation for a home. We stand on the shoulders of giants, Gideon, in these very tunnels.
They navigate the twisting, claustrophobic passage. Anton leads, his larger frame pushing through tight spots, occasionally reaching back to guide Gideon.
Ahead, a faint, harsh glow becomes visible.
ANTON
> (filtered)
> That'll be the breach. Hold up.
EXT. FROSTFALL RIDGE / CONDUIT BETA-7 - CONTINUOUS
SOUND of a DEAFENING, HOWLING BLIZZARD.
The tunnel hatch opens into a blinding maelstrom of white. The wind is a physical force, tearing at them.
Visibility is zero. The light from their suit lamps is swallowed by swirling snow.
Gideon stumbles, his knee hitting fractured ice with a muffled CLANG.
ANTON
> (roaring over the wind)
> Hold!
Anton reaches back, his gloved hand finding Gideon’s arm, gripping it tight.
ANTON
> (CONT'D)
> Steady yourself! We move by feel!
Through the whiteout, a monstrous shape emerges. Conduit Beta-7, thick as a cargo transport, is now a grotesque sculpture of ice.
CLOSE ON a rupture in the conduit. Jagged, crystalline teeth of ice burst outwards. A thin, silvery-green VAPOR escapes, hissing into the gale. The cold is a palpable, physical presence.
GIDEON
> (filtered, breathless)
> My God… It’s worse than the diagnostics suggested. This isn’t just an emergency patch, Anton. This is a battle.
Anton pulls a heavy-duty ICE CHISEL from his pack.
ANTON
> (filtered)
> Aye. A battle. We start by clearing this ice. Carefully.
They begin the punishing work. Every swing of the chisel sends shards of ice flying. Gideon uses his MULTI-TOOL, its concentrated thermal blast melting stubborn sections with a high-pitched WHINE.
A violent GUST OF WIND, stronger than before, slams into them.
Anton braces, digging his boot-spikes into the ice.
Gideon, caught mid-swing, is torn from the conduit. He is airborne, held only by the safety tether clipped to Anton’s belt.
ANTON
> (a raw, animal roar)
> GIDEON!
With a grunt of pure adrenaline, Anton YANKS hard on the tether. Gideon SLAMS back against the pipe, coughing.
GIDEON
> (gasping)
> Bloody hell… Close one. Thank you.
ANTON
> No time for apologies, lad. Just focus.
They work with renewed, seamless precision. As Anton hammers away a final, stubborn section of ice... something is revealed beneath.
Not the corrugation of the conduit. Deliberately carved, intricate GLYPHS and SYMBOLS, etched into the foundation stone itself.
ANTON
> Hold, Gideon. Look at this.
He brushes away more ice. Gideon moves closer, shining his lamp on the discovery.
GIDEON
> What in the… This isn't standard Colonial script. It looks… older.
ANTON
> It is older. My grandmother… she used to talk about the 'Founders' Marks'. A ward against the planet's wrath. Thought it was just a myth.
Gideon stares at the pattern.
GIDEON
> A blessing? Or something more practical? This pattern… it almost looks like a circuit diagram.
He pulls up his multi-tool, switching it to a low-frequency scanner. The scanner emits a faint HUM.
CLOSE ON the scanner's display. It pulses with a soft, green light, indicating a hidden pathway beneath the conduit.
GIDEON
> (CONT'D)
> There's… there's another channel here. Running parallel to Beta-7, but deeper. Not on any of our current schematics.
A jolt of realization hits Anton.
ANTON
> A backup network the first generation built. Pride in their work, they called it. 'Leaving a stronger foundation for those who follow'.
They work quickly, applying the emergency patch to Beta-7. The vapor ceases its escape.
Gideon uses his multi-tool to carefully peel back a section of the outer conduit casing near the glyphs.
He reveals a small, recessed ACCESS PANEL, hidden behind crystalline growth. It HUMS faintly with power.
A low, resonant THRUMMING begins, felt through the conduit itself. The hum is getting stronger.
Anton reaches out, his gloved hand hovering over the panel.
ANTON
> This wasn’t in any of the archives. This… this changes things, Gideon. This changes everything.
Gideon looks from the glowing panel to Anton. The howling wind seems to fade into the background. All that matters is the quiet, resonant hum beneath their feet—a pulse from the past, reawakening.