Standing on the ice breaker’s upper deck, Lex observes the pulsating rhythm of the Northern Lights as they dance across the arctic sky. A familiar voice cuts through her brooding. Miller, Sebastian in tow.
“Ah, it’s in the upper atmosphere,” Miller intones.
Sebastian skirts around Dr. Miller, in order to come up on Lex’s left side. He offers Lex a shy smile before gazing up at the sky.
“Streams of protons and electrons from the sun. They’re being deflected by Earth’s magnetic field. Resulting in a solar radiation storm."
Lex briefly peers over at Miller, who stands to her right. With a thin smile, she returns her attention to the heavens.
“Shackleton called Antarctica the last great journey left to man,” Lex says, cluing Miller in that she isn’t just a pretty face. There’s a brain in that pretty little head too. “It’s the one place left in the world that no one owns. It’s completely free.”
Sebastian bows his head in silent agreement, his lips drawn in to form a shy smile.
“Me—I’m partial to the penguins,” Lex quips.
The trio share a brief laugh before thick silence falls over them again. Miller's brow creases and he lowers his voice seductively, drawing an uncharacteristically annoyed scowl from Sebastian.
“I wish you’d reconsider coming with us, Lex. Don’t make me pull out pictures of my kids again,” Dr. Miller jokes.
“Your kids aren’t that cute,” Lex retorts with a wily smile.
“What about pictures of other people’s kids?” Sebastian cuts in.
Lex averts her gaze and inhales deeply. She reluctantly locks eyes with Sebastian. The archeologist stares back without hesitation, pale green orbs gleaming with unspoken joy and emotion.
“Want my advice?” Lex asks.
“Sure.”
“Stay on the boat,” Lex says, all hilarity gone from her manner and tone.
Miller draws his face into the front of his coat, trying desperately to protect his nose from the bitter cold. He peers questioningly at Lex. Sebastian refuses to be dissuaded from his pursuit.
“Let me ask you something. Do we stand a better chance of surviving with you…Or with the number two guide?”
Lex’s expression becomes one of surprise and foreboding.
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October 10, 2004
Somewhere near the orbit of Mars
Ta’dnu Clan Mothership
The three chosen unblooded lie asleep in their stasis chambers, resting up for the coming hunt. On the forward view screen, Earth gradually comes into view. Glowing red lights along the corridor, and on the walls, wink on. Gas hisses from vents along the floor.
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On a lower deck, three masks rest on metallic stations, information downloading into each one. At the center of the elaborate room, a holographic image of a pyramid shimmers into view. Symbols attach themselves to the pyramid and other graphics scroll by in quick succession. Once a large red triangle appears, the targeting system locks on. A blast of blue energy erupts from the front of the mothership. The energy blast strikes the Earth at a perfect 30-degree angle. Its target, the pyramid nestled safely under the snow in Sector 14.
No human eyes are around to see the brilliance and ingenuity at work. However, several penguins scatter from the site, chattering as they make their departure. There has been no human activity here for many years. The violent disturbance of the flightless birds’ peace has them greatly unsettled. Many seek shelter away from the human settlement. While other, braver birds, simply move further away from the common areas.
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Reaching the summit above what was once the Razorback Point Whaling Station, Quinn motions for his men to come in close and for the other expedition members to hang back.
“Conners,” Quinn yells over the noise of snowplows and heavy machinery.
A rail thin man, with dark brown hair, saunters over to where Quinn stands. The two drillers share a brief exchange. Weyland muscles his way forward and studies the abandoned camp below.
The expedition team forms a semi-circle around the summit’s rim. Retrieving her flare gun, Lex shoots a flare up into the air, illuminating the surrounding perimeter in bright white light.
“It’s an abandoned whaling station,” Lex informs the team. “According to your satellites, Mr. Weyland…The pyramid is located directly beneath it.”
The team carefully makes their way down to the station and everyone spreads out. Max signals to the big man—Quinn.
“We’ll use this place as a base camp,” Max instructs. “Mr. Quinn, commence drilling operations as soon as possible.”
“I’m on it,” Quinn says with a head nod. “Okay, guys. Let’s get moving.”
Lex and Miller go off in one direction, while Sebastian goes in another. The lone archaeologist wanders toward the rear of the camp. Cautiously making his way up a decrepit staircase, Sebastian squints to see through the surrounding darkness. His pale green eyes land on something which defies anything his rational mind can accept. He calls to the other expedition members at the top of his lungs, attempting to be heard over the howling wind.
“Hey! Over here! You all need to see this!”
Quinn and several others race toward the sound of the distressed expert’s voice. They stop short when they observe the giant hole which has grabbed the man’s undivided attention.
“Can you believe that?” Sebastian coos.
Quinn tosses a flare into the borehole, allowing everyone in attendance to view the hollowed out interior. The flare falls so far into the hole that it completely disappears. Drill Boss Quinn squats at the rim of the hole and whistles loudly.
“This is unbelievable. It’s drilled at a perfect thirty-degree angle,” Quinn informs the group, particularly Weyland.
“How far does it go down?” Lex questions.
“All the way down to the pyramid,” Weyland says, agitation in his voice. The aging gentleman releases a deep sigh before continuing. He studies a set of thermal images being downloaded to his laptop via satellite. “There it is. Clear as day. But at the same time yesterday…Nothing.”
“How was it done?” Miller inquires, leaning in close.
“Some kind of advanced thermal equipment. Incredibly powerful,” Quinn says with a touch of awe.
“Like yours?” Weyland demands in a suspicious tone.
“What we have doesn’t even come close to being able to bore a hole this size in less than twenty-four hours,” Quinn explains. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m telling you, Mr. Weyland. There’s isn’t a team…Or a machine…In the world that could have done this.”
Weyland is not convinced. He glowers at his lead driller with a cruel uncertainty.
“The only way to know for sure is to go down there and find out.”
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On the yautja mothership, the three warriors are now fully awake. Each of the chosen briefly tests their weapons for efficacy. Satisfied with the results, they claim their masks from the metal stations. Celtic turns to Scar and Chopper respectively.
“Now the hunt will begin,” Celtic intones. “Do not let yourselves be distracted. Do not show weakness or fear. We have been chosen for a great honor. May we make our clan and our brethren proud!”
Each yautja nods to the others respectfully and issues a soft growl. Celtic’s words are strong and true. There is no room for fear on a hunt. Striding in perfect unison, down a corridor illuminated by bright red columns of light, the three hunters make their way to the transport pods which will carry them to the planet below.