 conviction that knowledge was more than power—it was survival.

As Jordan began to extract what data they could from the terminal, the first comprehensible communication from the depths of Dulce in far too long crackled through: an automated distress marker, looping endlessly without further context. It was a revelation, one that reverberated through the group, confirming their fears and igniting an even greater need to press on.

Watching Jordan's dogged determination, Alex witnessed the minor transformation in his colleague unfold—a shift from doubt to action, a sliver of belief in the possibilities beyond their rational understanding. This forge of resolve amidst the alien echoes of Dulce not only bonded them closer as a team but compelled them forward with a sharpened edge of responsibility to the truth, wherever it would lead.

As they collected their findings and regrouped, the base around them imperceptibly changed, the air charged with the vibration of secrets poised on the brink of revelation. And in that charged silence, the group moved on, each now carrying pieces of a puzzle that would soon converge into a picture of galactic significance.

\*

In the chill of the cramped server room, the hum of machinery was the backbone to a symphony of data streams coursing through the air. Dr. Jordan Hayes, nerves alight with the mission's mounting unknowns, patched into the last known coordinates of the unsent distress broadcast they had uncovered. They were so close to the core now – to the truth behind the blackout – it was almost tangible.

Beside them stood Agent Alex Mercer, ever the soldier, yet with eyes that betrayed an intellect craving to understand the murk beneath the surface. "Any progress, Dr. Hayes?" Alex queried, his voice betraying a subtle urgency.

"Getting there," Jordan replied, fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Whoever sent this was cut off mid-transmission. It's as if Dulce itself swallowed the message whole."

Taylor Cruz closed in, their frame casting a long shadow over the duo, evoking an almost palpable wall between them and the forward momentum of their mission. "Time is against us," Taylor intoned, more statement than threat. "What we uncover here determines our next course of action."

Alex acknowledged Taylor with a brisk nod, his stance firm. Yet inwardly, the tightening grip he felt from Taylor's words couldn't throttle the swell of his own investigative instinct. His soldier's obedience had begun to war with the advocate's zeal for unveiling the dark heart of Dulce's secrets. 

And then, the unexpected occurred. The screens flashed in unison, spilling a discordant stream of symbols and images that defied immediate analysis. Jordan's breath caught – this was the response they had been fishing for, an alien communication protocol resonating just at the edge of human comprehension.

Each member of the team felt it: a shift in the room’s very atmosphere, like a veil being drawn from their perception. Alex and Jordan stood still