"ASSURED RED COMMUNIST ENCROACHMENT ON THE VIRGIN ANTARCTIC - SENATOR McCARTHY DEMANDS ANSWERS...
Atomic Dawn: Tales Of Pseudoscientific Adventure.
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Arkalest
ELOP Stan In The Streets, Dromok Under The Sheets
"ASSURED RED COMMUNIST ENCROACHMENT ON THE VIRGIN ANTARCTIC - SENATOR McCARTHY DEMANDS ANSWERS, DENOUNCES MEMBERS OF PARLIAMENT AS MEMBERS OF THE "DINOSAUR CONSPIRACY." - ROCKETMEN PREPARED FOR MOBILIZATION"
I blinked as the brunette in front of me placed the newspaper back onto the mahogany table.
"So, uh, McCarthy is a nutbag. Color me surprised."
Hannah rolled her eyes before turning towards the third occupant of the room- Who was steepling his fingers together, hiding a half-smirk behind them as he nodded. He looked so small behind his massive desk, a thin, hunched figure who showed every single one of his years. Sometimes I idly wondered who was younger. The doctor? The desk? Maybe the building itself? You never know with those pesky Germans.
"That, my son, is indisputable. However, we wanted to bring something else to your attention."
Of course there was something else.
There always was something else, especially when Von Graff was involved. I shifted a bit, looking around the room- It was basically unchanged from the last time I had went in: The walls were still loaded with enough framed photos of the old man smiling in front of some set of ruins, or shaking hands with someone really important to make me acutely and keenly aware of how vast my ignorance of the scientific world was. "It has something to do with Antarctica, hasn't it?"
I placed my fingers on my chin, assuming a faux-contemplative posture. The good doctor's smirk grew into a full smile. Hannah crossed her arms, a stern expression etched on her face, a frown encapsulated by a cascade of brown hair.
"Oh, don't tell me. It involves Murray Station and the "nonexistent" fifteen tonnes of lizard mechanoid hidden in the fifth hangar- Which, if our friend is right- Is about to be trampled by several dozens of angry Russki walkers in full siege asset. Am I right, or am I right?"
The robot-butler chose that moment to shuffle in the room, his bronze and black carapace set ablaze by the orange sunbeams of the evening. My superior nodded to the machine as it placed a plate on the desk- Three teacups, smoldering. Sure, he was about to send me to my death in a god-forsaken hellhole infested by communists and god-knows-what else, but he knew how to be civil about it. "Domovoi" (Blame Hannah for the nickname) took place next to him, claw-like digits folded over his massive scaled chest. I had to suppress a shudder at the sight of its beetle-like head, the ruby-red sensors in stark contrast with the black matte on its insect head.
"Actually, no."
"Uh."
There always was something else.
Hannah handed me a brown envelope which looked like it had lived through infinitely better days- It barely felt like paper: A soggy, wet mess which felt more like a rag soaked in water than anything else. I raised my eyebrows, and Graff motioned for me to open it.
The first photo in the pile was, for the lack of a better term, a fucking mess. From the looks of it it had been snapped by a high altitude survey drone which was either being flown by a drunk, or under AA fire. It took me a good fifty seconds of contemplation to realize that no, the thing it depicted wasn't a giant eye- Just a massive crater, pockmarked with weirdly geometric shapes, such as hexagons, triangles and the like, their borders blurry and almost invisible against the white landscape.
"Is this some sort of Russian attempt at psychological warfare and landscaping at the same time?"
"The situation would be way better if that was the case." Hannah stepped forward, picking up her teacup.
"The Lamark Analysis Base noticed this anomaly three days ago, and they have kept the zone under constant surveillance ever since."
"So, uh, what did they detect, exactly? This doesn't look like a normal Dinosaur compound. It's too close to the surface if a "simple" explosion blew it o-" She raised a hand.
"It wasn't blown open. It simply appeared on their sensors. For more than two years nothing but snow and ice, and then POOF, a five-kilometer crater in the middle of nowhere. They've tried to see if the geosats registered any sort of explosion, but...Nothing. There has been some sort of energy release, since the thermals went wild...But then nothing. A brief heat spike after the crater formed, and then it cooled right back into the background temperature. That's why the place isn't swarming with Soviets. They would have needed something as accurate as Lamark's array to even notice that it had happened."
"How old is this photo?"
"It was taken two days ago by a surveillance airplane programmed to circle the site every two hours and snap and map." Her face darkened, her lips reduced to a thin line. Nothing good.
"Look at the others, Tom. Notice anything different?" I skimmed through the others, trying not to glare at Hannah. It was a pet-peeve of mine, the way she categorically refused to say anything out loud and clear. And as far as the photos went, they were mostly the same crater from different angles and altitudes, but...There was something off about them. I grabbed one which had probably been shoot from at least half a kilometer away from the border, and- And for the second time in the evening I found myself blinking in confusion.
"It's only me, or are those...forms...things less blurry? Is it the weather?"
"No." Ooooh boy.
"Look at the last one."
I had to repress a murmur of surprise. Jagged purple lines covered the grey surface of the various forms, now bigger and more defined. It was impossible to mistake them for anything else but artificial structures- And if I squinted, I could see some small lines at the base, jet-black cracks in the snow...
"Those things have been growing, Tom."
Graff cleared his throat. "Of course, my son." He said, placing his hands on his lap.
"You do realize what this mean?
I blinked as the brunette in front of me placed the newspaper back onto the mahogany table.
"So, uh, McCarthy is a nutbag. Color me surprised."
Hannah rolled her eyes before turning towards the third occupant of the room- Who was steepling his fingers together, hiding a half-smirk behind them as he nodded. He looked so small behind his massive desk, a thin, hunched figure who showed every single one of his years. Sometimes I idly wondered who was younger. The doctor? The desk? Maybe the building itself? You never know with those pesky Germans.
"That, my son, is indisputable. However, we wanted to bring something else to your attention."
Of course there was something else.
There always was something else, especially when Von Graff was involved. I shifted a bit, looking around the room- It was basically unchanged from the last time I had went in: The walls were still loaded with enough framed photos of the old man smiling in front of some set of ruins, or shaking hands with someone really important to make me acutely and keenly aware of how vast my ignorance of the scientific world was. "It has something to do with Antarctica, hasn't it?"
I placed my fingers on my chin, assuming a faux-contemplative posture. The good doctor's smirk grew into a full smile. Hannah crossed her arms, a stern expression etched on her face, a frown encapsulated by a cascade of brown hair.
"Oh, don't tell me. It involves Murray Station and the "nonexistent" fifteen tonnes of lizard mechanoid hidden in the fifth hangar- Which, if our friend is right- Is about to be trampled by several dozens of angry Russki walkers in full siege asset. Am I right, or am I right?"
The robot-butler chose that moment to shuffle in the room, his bronze and black carapace set ablaze by the orange sunbeams of the evening. My superior nodded to the machine as it placed a plate on the desk- Three teacups, smoldering. Sure, he was about to send me to my death in a god-forsaken hellhole infested by communists and god-knows-what else, but he knew how to be civil about it. "Domovoi" (Blame Hannah for the nickname) took place next to him, claw-like digits folded over his massive scaled chest. I had to suppress a shudder at the sight of its beetle-like head, the ruby-red sensors in stark contrast with the black matte on its insect head.
"Actually, no."
"Uh."
There always was something else.
Hannah handed me a brown envelope which looked like it had lived through infinitely better days- It barely felt like paper: A soggy, wet mess which felt more like a rag soaked in water than anything else. I raised my eyebrows, and Graff motioned for me to open it.
The first photo in the pile was, for the lack of a better term, a fucking mess. From the looks of it it had been snapped by a high altitude survey drone which was either being flown by a drunk, or under AA fire. It took me a good fifty seconds of contemplation to realize that no, the thing it depicted wasn't a giant eye- Just a massive crater, pockmarked with weirdly geometric shapes, such as hexagons, triangles and the like, their borders blurry and almost invisible against the white landscape.
"Is this some sort of Russian attempt at psychological warfare and landscaping at the same time?"
"The situation would be way better if that was the case." Hannah stepped forward, picking up her teacup.
"The Lamark Analysis Base noticed this anomaly three days ago, and they have kept the zone under constant surveillance ever since."
"So, uh, what did they detect, exactly? This doesn't look like a normal Dinosaur compound. It's too close to the surface if a "simple" explosion blew it o-" She raised a hand.
"It wasn't blown open. It simply appeared on their sensors. For more than two years nothing but snow and ice, and then POOF, a five-kilometer crater in the middle of nowhere. They've tried to see if the geosats registered any sort of explosion, but...Nothing. There has been some sort of energy release, since the thermals went wild...But then nothing. A brief heat spike after the crater formed, and then it cooled right back into the background temperature. That's why the place isn't swarming with Soviets. They would have needed something as accurate as Lamark's array to even notice that it had happened."
"How old is this photo?"
"It was taken two days ago by a surveillance airplane programmed to circle the site every two hours and snap and map." Her face darkened, her lips reduced to a thin line. Nothing good.
"Look at the others, Tom. Notice anything different?" I skimmed through the others, trying not to glare at Hannah. It was a pet-peeve of mine, the way she categorically refused to say anything out loud and clear. And as far as the photos went, they were mostly the same crater from different angles and altitudes, but...There was something off about them. I grabbed one which had probably been shoot from at least half a kilometer away from the border, and- And for the second time in the evening I found myself blinking in confusion.
"It's only me, or are those...forms...things less blurry? Is it the weather?"
"No." Ooooh boy.
"Look at the last one."
I had to repress a murmur of surprise. Jagged purple lines covered the grey surface of the various forms, now bigger and more defined. It was impossible to mistake them for anything else but artificial structures- And if I squinted, I could see some small lines at the base, jet-black cracks in the snow...
"Those things have been growing, Tom."
Graff cleared his throat. "Of course, my son." He said, placing his hands on his lap.
"You do realize what this mean?
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