This is real and not actually an odd joke. The South Pole will be my new workplace. Leading the way, the man which has since identified himself as Captain Moore takes a swift turn down an empty hallway. The walls open up on both sides with chairs and tables filling a good portion of the space ahead.
“Mess Hall,” Captain Moore quips upon glancing back.
It is empty—derelict rather, with not another soul in sight. Across the short bound on the opposite end stands a restroom.
“Make it quick,” the Captain gestures ahead, fishing out his datapad again, “I’ll get the pilots notified now.”
I proceed and voice an affirmation. “Got it.”
Out of all the possible destinations that crossed my mind, Antarctica stands out as one of the least likely candidates for someone like me. Whatever the reason is, it better be good enough to warrant my team’s presence—else I take it up with whoever is in-charge of the base.
‘One step at a time,’ I calmly tell myself.
First comes the hours long flight, then assess the situation groundside and determine the next course of action. If it is anything remotely similar to previous deployments, there won’t be any shut eye for me during the first day of orientation.
That, I’m not looking forward to.
====MacDill Military Air base, Restroom====
The air’s minty freshness is invigorating. Most the stars are hidden by a haze of clouds as a stormy rumble echoes in the distance. Captain Moore keeps up with the occasional query as he leads me closer to the airfield, opting for a leisurely pace to which I match.
“How’d you end up with the blues anyway? I didn’t think anyone from Fort Benning could hop their way to the Special Operations’ Group,” the Captain poses with a curious look.
“It’s a bit of luck and timing really,” I shrug, “a bit like job seeking actually. After basic, there was a try out for a couple of units, so I went with I think three. Most of what they tested was mental, and from what they told me I scored the highest on language acquisition.”
“When was that?” Captain Moore probes.
“Almost five years ago. So, roughly 2041. It’s how I got scouted when they started founded the ARSF. It was much easier back then when they really needed to fill the ranks,” I reminisce, fondly remembering all the advancements I made since signing those papers almost a lifetime ago.
Absolutely no regrets since then. Following a short interlude, Captain Moore indicates to the aircraft that sat in the middle of a lane, its navigation lights beating to a constant rhythm.
Ground crews, strangely enough are absent. Painted at the side is the familiar blue and white of the United Nations flag.
“She’s your ride—Sedna Pathfinder G10. Top of the line and one of the fastest I heard,” Captain highlights.
I raise my brows but ultimately decide against voicing any level of surprise. This is several steps above what I expected they would allocate for just one person.
"Good talk, anything else?" Captain Moore offers a hand.
“All good, and thanks for the help, Captain—appreciate it,” I shake his hand and take a step back.
I snap a salute. Captain Moore returns the gesture. “Good luck Lieutenant, whatever it is you’ll be doing,” he says as he drops the salute.
“We’ll see.”
Turning towards the Sedna, I briefly survey its exterior, sweeping from the front all the way to its rear. It definitely carries that look of prestige. Both its engines seem be to be housed within the superstructure of the wings itself and the swept back orientation of both meant it vaguely resembles a fighter jet, and less like a plane of a more commercial origin.
The door opens as I near it. Past the short flight of steps up, the interior flashes with a comfortable royal blue draped with a hazy atmosphere. Stranger still, no one stood on either side as I step into the aircraft. There is no crew other than the presumed Pilot, or two.
It is empty—suspiciously so.
I turn around, sighting the Captain looking up to issue a curt nod just as the door begins to slide close on its own accord.
“Attention Passenger, Attention Passenger,” a voice announces over the intercom, “welcome aboard the Sedna. Turn right from where you are, and you’ll bump right onto the lounge. Advise you choose a seat and strap in for the ascent. Once we’re levelled, I’ll let you know.”
I break out of the trance and follow the instructions, quickly heading to the supposed lounge. The area is complete with multiple tables, customized aviation seats for each one, and even a single flat-screen television taking up almost the entire length of the opposite wall.
To simply call it a lounge would be an understatement. All this luxury seems almost wasted over someone like me. But I will take what’s given to me. I choose the seat that is adjacent a nice-looking sofa, eying the latter as a bed in an hour or so.
I collect my thoughts and settle in. It is just me and the world of imagination, until I finally arrive at the South Pole—at Cygnus. As the Sedna ramps up speed, so did my anticipation.
The hours have never felt longer than it did now.
====six hours later=====
-0532 Military Hours
- Ross Ice Shelf Eastern Border
Out of nowhere, there was a sudden painful squeeze in both ears. I jolt awake and bring myself up from the sofa. The lounge is still draped in that same ambient blue, though with a distinctly fainter intensity. Everything is muffled.
I pinch my nose and yawn to equalize myself, feeling both ears pop. The discomfort vanishes and the roaring drone of the Sedna’s engines returns in full force, sounding louder than ever.
A quick glance down reveals that the morning is still in its infancy. The watch reads 0537 hours, but now that number has lost its relevance being this far away from home.
Getting onto my feet, it dawns on me that this will be the first time I set foot on Antarctica. No matter what I would be doing there, there will be at least one thing crossed off the bucket list.
Leaning to the side, I look out through the porthole, seeing only a weak tint of sunlight shimmering over the horizon. A sea of endless white lay below, stretching in all directions. Both smooth plains and sharp ridges litter the topography. Those are evident even at this altitude.
Things here are peaceful—and timeless. It was not yet affected by mankind’s influence. At the top of my head, I could only think of a few other places that still held this level of natural preservation. This is a nice change, for once.
This entire desolate, snow-covered wasteland is about to become my office for the foreseeable future. There was no indication of civilization just yet. The aircraft’s descent is gradual, and the ground slowly approaches.
The thin cloud layer rises up, offering a better view of the landscape below. It is all ice for miles around. Much of the sun’s light was confined to the horizon and the sky is still dark enough that it could be considered night.
If there were any bases below, it would be hard to pick them out against the darkness and monotonous shades of ice. All the more reason to be suspicious of the team’s deployment.
All of us have answered the call. We will see soon enough if our presence is warranted.
I sit back down and waited, getting another fill from the coffee dispenser on the table. The taste is somewhat acceptable—something at least decent to keep me occupied for the final stretch.
======
Past the porthole, the smooth plains of ice transitions onto a dark strip. Signs of human habitation soon follow with lights, stout buildings, and other permanent fixtures filling the scenery.
This has to be Cygnus station—my new home for however long they need me. It seems well developed, definitely more than I expected. But why go through all the troubles to build something like this all the way out here?
The question lingers as the Sedna taxis to a stop on the strip. Overhead the pilots issue the greenlight to take off the seat belts to which I immediately did.
"Time for answers," I murmur, taking one last look out the porthole before exiting the lounge. From there I wait by the door, anticipating the bitter rush of cold to come seeping in.
Better that than the sweltering heat I suppose.
======
With a sharp hiss, the hinges disengage, and the door slides open. A sudden gust breaks right through the initial gap. The ambient temperature quickly plummets as I squint past the bitter cold, peering into an otherworldly sea of endless snow.
Several buildings and a handful of human silhouettes dotted the landscape. The constant howling of the winds are just as unrelenting as the cold as I step out the aircraft. With only a shirt and a thin jacket I scrounged up as recommendation by the Pilot, the temperature quickly sends me into a tremble.
Braving the cold, I take my first steps off the plane, and onto the cushioning snow. Around me the peculiar sight of a well-developed runway further solidifies the notion that this is more than just a simple Antarctic station.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
There is definitely a reason for all this, that will be the question to tackle once I get my bearings set.
To the distant sides of the sole runway are multiple buildings—more like prefabricated structures partially embedded into the snow. An initial survey puts their numbers at around twenty. Quite a respectable size given how remote this place is from the rest of civilization.
Through the mild blizzard, three human shaped silhouettes stood several metres away, just beyond range of the Sedna’s hazy interior lights. I step towards the small crowd, quickly noting the suspicious jutting of rifles from their hands.
Raising a hand to stave off the worst of the Antarctic weather, I stop just as they begin to approach me. “Who’s there?” I yell, squinting but failing to identify anything more than their dark figures and weapons.
“Who else?” One of them shouts through the mild blizzard and closes the last few steps to reach me.
I perk up with a smile. It looks like the team is already here and has been for some time now.
James places an arm on my shoulder as he leans in. “We didn’t think you’d reach in such short notice. The full briefing’s just been confirmed for the next hour,” the operative explains.
“My gear?” I ask, in turn leaning into his helmet.
James thumbs to the rear. “Safe inside the Cygnus armoury. It’s not been touched since we sealed it for transfer.”
"Awesome, thanks," I say while sweeping left to right, once more surveying the station’s general layout.
James leads me towards the rest of our team, and we all proceed deeper into the station.
"So, what can we expect?" I hastily ask, eager to know the circumstances of our deployment.
Douglas shakes his head and answers, "Plenty to sink your teeth into, so I’ll start from day one,” he says, and fills me in as we went.
======
Ten minutes in, and all I felt is a wave of confusion at what is being told. It sounded improbable and outright absurd, yet the proof is glaring through the harsh blizzard roughly a kilometre away from the station proper.
The anomaly shimmered with a brilliant constellation of colours, almost hauntingly flaunting its presence as though it had a life of its own. Its light was a beacon and outshone all sources of light beneath the Antarctic night sky.
Just beyond that is supposedly an entire world. It is habitable, almost a mirror of Earth, but wildly different in a million subtle ways. An opportunity of a lifetime as most of the researchers have said. Irresistible, but also incredibly dangerous.
“Still hard to believe it,” Robert interjects as we proceed through the stout buildings. A pair of UN troops round a corner, clad in proper winter clothing.
The one of them glances over me and stops, the other in turn doing the same. “You Lieutenant Simmons?” one of them asks, to which I nod.
The same trooper continues while directing his attention onto me. “Folks up top are preparing for a full briefing for you guys. In case don’t know yet Lieutenant, you four have the honour of being permanently stationed Rift-side. Lots of crazy new discoveries going on over there supposedly, so consider yourselves lucky.”
“From what I’ve heard, they’ve also been stretching themselves thin out there,” Douglas intones. “Not looking forward to meeting whoever’s running the show over there.”
James nudges him, probably working up a grin behind his helmet. “We get to finally see what’s got them so worked up,” he quips, barely keeping his excitement under wraps.
“Plenty of interesting rumours spilling out every day. Hard to tell which ones are actually real though,” the UN soldier shakes his head. “Anyways we’re here to escort you to where you’re needed.”
I step in and gesture at myself once the man concludes. “Thanks, but there’s no need. Once I swing by the armoury and pop on my gear, I’ll register myself with S1. Then we’ll be on our way to the briefing.”
“We know where to go,” Douglas adds with a raised finger at our intended direction.
“Okay then, but if there’s anything you folks need, feel free to swing by H5. That’s the building with the mess hall—plenty of guys to shoot your questions if it comes down to it.” Both sentries then step aside and proceed with their patrol.
The trip to the armoury only takes several minutes and soon enough, I am alone and surveying each piece of my equipment contained within the duffle bag. Each one is neatly arranged according to a standardized layout agreed upon by the team. It was a layout I knew just as well as the back of my hand.
Quickly dressing down, I don a simple set of grey fatigues and start putting on the distinctive pieces of armour plating that has long since defined the look of all members of the Special Operations’ Group since its inception.
Deep grey intermingled with black. At the centre of the chest piece stood the symbol of the United Nations, engraved in white and no bigger than the palm of my hand. There is always that flutter of pride within every time I look at it.
Next is the helmet. I spent a good portion of my job behind the visor, so much that the helmet is akin to a second face. I put it on and feel an immediate sense of comfort and familiarity. It feels just right to be looking at the world through a polarized visor.
I take a deep breath, feeling ready to take on the world—this, and the other one. Walking out, I tighten the remainder of my straps and regroup with the rest of my team. Grabbing an assault rifle and its accompanying ammunition on the way out, I set a hard pace and find my team loitering near the entrance, taking shelter from the worst of the Antarctic weather.
"I’m done, so where’s the registration?” I sound out.
Douglas waves me off. “No need actually, already submitted our names as a team, you included. We can skip right to the briefing which will be on Ops.”
I raise both brows. “Are we cleared though?”
Douglas nods. “They told me they want us Rift-side as soon as possible. For sure it’s something serious.”
"I see, then let's get to it." I muse, setting off through the facility.
The bitter cold worked its way through me as I walked. Cygnus presented itself as a quiet and unassuming clandestine station. Sparse lights littered the surface, confined only to the entrances of each building.
This is the edge of civilization, and any amount of surface activity is limited to the occasional patrol of a few soldiers along the perimeter. The howling winds are bitter and relentless. As ice crept along the visor’s edge, the thrill of that first mission pushes out the passing discomfort from the cold.
We brave through the weather until we stumble across the tallest of the prefabricated buildings. Though it barely amounted to a height of six metres.
I look up to its highest point, noting the UN flag cresting along the edge fluttering defiantly against the Antarctic winds.
"This is Ops?" I ask, waiting for someone to give me an affirmation.
Robert steps up to me and gestures to the building with a nod. “Yeah, Cygnus HQ. The brains of the entire operation, here and Rift-side.”
Two soldiers stand by the entrance. I take the lead and approach them fully expecting to be challenged to a few questions before being given the green light.
One of the soldiers steps up and beams a torch in our direction, physically blocking our way as he poses a simple question.
“Full roster now?” the soldier asks, initially blinding me with the flash of light.
“I’m here, that makes four of us,” I answer.
“You guys are slated for Rift-side Ops,” the man gestures past the door, “briefings take place down on the basement. Staff officers are standing by for your arrival.”
Both soldiers step aside and urge us through the small entrance. Things inside are warmer, though not by much. A few staff, clad in thick jackets note our arrival and quickly direct us through the building’s tight interior, citing that things are urgent across the Rift.
“What’s the deal anyway?” James asks with a hint of annoyance present in his tone. We stop at the end of a dark hallway where an elevator stood. Frost stubbornly clung onto every nook and cranny, even the floor itself is lined with a thin layer of ice.
“Missing explorers, a whole team failed to report back over twenty-four hours ago. I don’t know the specifics, but my colleagues can give you more on this,” one of the staff officers answers just as the lift opens.
The woman gestures ahead. “Please go ahead,” she says.
“Sounds like quite the scare on the other side,” Douglas muses as he steps onto the lift, making room for the rest of us to settle inside. It is an uncomfortable squeeze, further exacerbated as the doors close and I am left to my own thoughts.
The lift quietly hums as it brings us deeper into the ground. Finally, it stops with a sudden jerk and the doors open with a resounding chime. Ahead, is a significantly darker corridor. Dim yellow lights, haphazardly fixed above provided the only means of illumination as I move ahead, searching for directional signs that could lead me to the team’s destination.
A few uniformed officers sat in one room, only briefly looking up as I pass before sinking back to their respective terminals.
“Hey that should be it,” James points left at the next junction, probing the room with his head leaning past the partially opened door.
He pulls back and gestures at all of us. “This is it.”
Finally. I push into the room and feel the presence of my team rush in with me as a few uniformed officers stand up to greet us.
“Lieutenant Simmons, fireteam Desert,” I address the officers on behalf of the team.
Switching to me, one of the officers offers a hand to which I take with a firm grasp. “Glad you can join us in such short notice. I understand we owe you folks some answers regarding the nature of our operations here.”
I look around, finding all three of my companions silently agreeing with the man’s opening statement.
“Unfortunately, now’s not the time for that. I’m here to get you up to speed on the situation Rift-side in the quickest time possible,” the man sits back down and introduces himself, “I’m Clarke Jefferson—acting head of Cygnus security.”
I listen closely as images crop up on the room’s projector—scenes from the other world which has been tentatively named as ‘New Eden’ in official reports.
Clarke highlights a particular image featuring a dense thicket of vegetation, pointing out several people clad in full biological hazmat-type suits posing for the camera. “Expedition six,” he comments with a finger pointed at the image.
“So you know, our core mission is exploration and geological surveying of the immediate ten or so kilometres around our Rift-side base of operations. Recently, it’s been expanded to include anthropological studies which the folks in that image are part of.”
Douglas perks up. “Meaning what?”
Clarke and the rest of his staff glance at each other. “There’s… we’ve got direct, irrefutable evidence that New Eden is an inhabited world. To put it bluntly, we’ve got indigenous folks.”
The stunning revelation makes me pause. I carefully mull over the staff officer’s words and slowly get back my bearings.
One of the other officers feigns a cough to gain our attention. “As of right now, it has been more than thirty hours since Expedition six failed to report in. We suspect indigenous involvement,” the woman says.
I shake my head. “Quite the reveal,” I pause and look to my companions for input. All three are still too stunned to give anything more than a returning glance.
Taking the reins, I stand up and move the topic forward. “So we’re to investigate their last known pos’, and report our findings back. Is that correct?”
Clarke nods. “Yes, though you will report to the management on the other side, not here. We’ve cleared your fireteam to proceed through the Rift and begin deployment as soon as possible.”
“Sounds good.” At that, the team stands up and the meeting concludes.
Upon exiting the Cygnus headquarters, a snow rover is waiting for us just outside. I take the front adjacent the driver waiting for the rest to hop aboard.
“Last in,” Robert calls out.
“Go,” I tap the driver on his shoulder and he speeds off towards the Rift.
“First time?” The driver quips, keeping his attention locked ahead.
“First day,” I answer with a chuckle.
“You guys have a lot to look forward to on the other side. I’ve yet to see someone who didn’t enjoy their stay in New Eden,” the driver discloses, later reminiscing about his earlier days from well over a month ago.
The rover’s treads sinks onto the smooth ice, churning up flakes behind as it reaches cruising speed. I look up and spot the incredible myriad of stars above, seeing the heavens in its full, unmasked glory without any pollution in the way.
Right at the centre, there is even the milky way present amidst the cosmic sea of stars. It is still morning, yet the winter period meant Cygnus will be experiencing constant darkness for the next several months. I would not be seeing the sun for the foreseeable future—on Earth at least.
This is unlike anything I have ever come across.
Soon enough, the rover grinds to a halt just a couple of metres from where the Rift stood. This is the new reality we will all be working with. Colours flashed and danced across its surface in constant waves, rippling in all directions like an otherworldly aurora.
It is massive, and spherical with its bottom half partially embedded into the ice. Service cables sunk onto it on one side—most likely power and communications wires. It is incredibly beautiful, breathtaking, and the sole reason for the team’s deployment this far south.
"Everyone ready?" I ask.
James brushes his hand into the anomaly as he looks back. “So, we just walk right in?”
“Pretty much. It’s like a flat road,” the rover driver informs, “Just make sure you head straight, and squint your eyes—because it’s really bright inside.”
“Sounds good,” I turn around and make a short gesture for the team to form up. “We’re set, let’s go.”
We close in on the anomaly’s outer edge, positioning ourselves right on the marker that indicated the supposed entry. We soon pass its event horizon, becoming surrounded by an intense display of fluorescent waves, forming into a wedge and set off slowly into the Rift.
The services cables runs parallel to our advance. I use it as reference while keeping a steady pace. The ground is still solid, yet had an almost ungainly feel to it.
The whole process is unnerving. But this is just the beginning. I innately understood that I will have to get used to a lot of new things.
Whatever associated challenges will come with it, I will face it head on—part and parcel of the job.
===End===
Ready And Waiting, We Shall Succeed.
- Unnamed member of the United Nations African Regional Security Force
Established in 2041.