~~~(POV: Julian D. Winters)~~~

~~~(Location: The Situation Room, Washington DC, West Virginia)~~~

~~~(Date, Time, Year: March 15th, 5:45 AM EST, 2022)~~~

~~~(Current Age: 53 Years)~~~

Mr. President enters the room with a sour look on his relatively young-looking face. We received the report 45 minutes ago. Chilean and Australian research bases located in the Antarctic have reported an unknown signal.

"How far beneath the ice do we know this object is? These reports can't be right."

"They're right, Kenneth. There is an object emitting a signal 1.8 kilometers below the ice. We'll get a detailed report on how long it's been down there based on the ice surrounding it."

"That's no help at all. What we need to find out concerns National Security. Is this some weapon or spy technology from a foreign power?"

"Jesus, John. Even if a country would spend tremendous money to complete such an operation, what's the point of revealing what they're up to with the signals."

Generals, Admirals, and Heads of Office are arguing around the table. My focus is on the pictures in my hands. It's an object 3.8 kilometers long and 1.4 to 1.9 kilometers wide. A height that's estimated to be 1.4 kilometers.

I've never been one to conclude with images and first reports. However, this problem will only get worse. The Australian government has already begun to publish its findings.

Only a matter of time before the civilian population finds out what's going on in the Antarctic.

"It says here that the signal is being broadcasted at -81.253865 Latitude and 80.734111 Longitude. That puts it deeper into the Antarctic continent than anything known. Equipment won't last long out there in those temperatures."

Jeffrey points out to everyone what I noticed too. The below-freezing temperatures would cause near-catastrophic failure for any mechanical or electrical systems.

The object we're looking at is a little over a mile under the ice. I can only assume how cold it is where the object is located. It's unbelievable. We'd never know it was down there if not for the signal it's releasing.

The X-Ray scans from the satellites are the only thing giving us a look at the object.

"General Winters, as Chairman of the Joint Cheifs, I'd like to know in your professional opinion what we're dealing with here."

As Mr. President speaks, the entire room quiets down. President Nick A. Marshall is a man that's never served in the military. Most of us would hate that, but the 40-year-old man has proven to listen to us.

To use our advice and help us, help him. Most Presidents never do that. Let alone one that didn't serve in the military. It's taken about a year, but he's since gained our respect.

"Mr. President, Sir. I feel as though it'd be presumptuous of me to suggest anything. Given the circumstances."

The underlying subject this has brought us is forcing something we're not ready for. The chaos in the world today isn't ready for what I think is under the ice in the Antarctic.

"It seems we agree then, Mr. Chairmen."

He looks to the front of the room, where several screens are for looking at data, documents, reports, and information. Sitting at his seat next to me. The Whitehouse Chief of Staff has been quiet this whole time.

"Ben, what do you think of this?"

My eyes look at the man sitting directly across from me. The same person that helped President Marshall get elected. His closest friend and confidant.

He looks up from the paper, and I see the eyes of a soldier that doesn't know what to do. Benjamin T. Jones served in the armed forces. Making Captain in the Air Force. He's a 43-year-old that looks 33.

"I'm in agreement with General Winters, Sir. Until we know what we're dealing with, this should be our top priority, Mr. President."

Ben has always been able to help guide and advise President Marshall on important military matters. Help him see it from a perspective that, as a civilian before being in office, he can understand.

The room is quiet as we're all waiting for our orders.

"Alright, I want the Department of Defense to coordinate with the Unified Combatant Command. All 11 commands are authorized under the direct order of the President to create a military operation in the next 12 hours."

We've got our orders now.

That's plenty of time for us to do our thing. Everyone stands up as the President does. He leaves the room with Ben, and everyone's making phone calls from the Situation Room.

I make my way for the exit before making any calls. Heading for the Chief of Staff's office. The secretary lets me in, and Ben sees me. He quickly finishes his phone call, and I take a seat.

"How may I help you, Julian."

There are a lot of things happening in the next 12 hours, and we're working behind Australia. By the time they've published their findings, we'll only just start to send out the naval military fleets. The problem we'll be dealing with is other powerful countries.

They'll be heading for the signal just like we are.

"This is some pretty crazy shit, huh..."

A small chuckle is allowed an escape from both of us but after a few seconds. We get serious.

"The media nightmare is the Press Secretary's problem. I'm sure once you debrief her, she'll get a handle on it until we've got a handle on ours. But it's not the media or public's opinion I'm worried about right now."

There is an acknowledging nod coming from the other side of the desk. He knows exactly where I'm going with this.

"Europe and Asia will start moving on the signal coming from the Antarctic soon. Perhaps Russia as well, but given the conflict with Ukraine. I doubt it. I can ask the President to give the order to secure the location of the coordinates."

This is why I'm Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and he's the Whitehouse Chief of Staff. He can just talk to the President anytime he needs to. Well, so can I. It's just not as... Convenient for me as it is for him.

"Tell him that we've all got his back in this."

Ben nods his head, and I stand up from my chair. So does he, and we shake hands before I leave. It's time I make some calls of my own. The sooner we lock down the location, the easier it'll be to find out what's going on.

~~~(POV: Dannon Mayer)~~~

~~~(Location: Mayer Ranch, Umatilla County, Oregon)~~~

~~~(Date, Time, Year: March 15th, 10:13 AM PST, 2022)~~~

~~~(Current Age: 21 Years)~~~

Clunk!

Clunk!

Clunk!

Putting in new fence posts is something I don't like doing. The monotony is mind-numbing, even if I can shove them into the ground. There are only a few left, and I'm in no rush to get them done. If I were, I would've done this completely different.

Truth be told, I'm burning time. Giving myself a reason for avoiding more contemplation on how I'd do the whole hero thing. It's been driving me crazy.

Sure, I could wear a mask or something. Cover my face and eyes with a hood. However, that kind of thing is menacing to people. The only people hiding their faces are robbers, gangsters, and criminals.

Giving off a wrong impression could ruin the whole thing hence, why I'm out here shoving fence posts into the ground. That way, my headache will go away. This isn't a comic book. People will see me, and they'll be afraid.

If only Earth didn't have Marvel and DC comics... Any comics... Maybe I could get this to work... The logic in comics doesn't apply to real life.

"Dannon! Come get some lemonade!"

It's an unusually warm day for the middle of March. While I don't sweat or tire, Mom still spoils me with a cold drink after farm work. I'm done anyway, and there isn't a reason to stay out here.

Mom smiles as she watches me lift off the ground and lightly fly to the porch. Landing before the steps softly and walking up to her.

"Thanks. The fence posts will be good for the next two seasons. But I'll have to do them again if it snows and rains like last year."

We head inside, and she makes her way back into the kitchen. It's a perfect Saturday. Mom doesn't work on the weekends. The stock market is closed. These are the times of my life I'm grateful for.

Life-altering decisions withstanding.

"What do you want for lunch? I could make hamburgers with eggs and hashbrowns, or maybe you'd like some chicken baked in the oven with green beans and potatoes."

It's not a hard choice.

"Hamburgers with eggs and hashbrowns. That sounds delicious."

Being able to eat whatever you want and however much you want is also a plus.

"Oh, by the way. There has been some pretty weird stuff going around on the internet. The Australian government released a statement and report. Something about a signal from under the ice in the Antarctic."

Probably just a malfunction with their equipment. Not a lot of people would be interested in that anyways. I'm sure not. There are more important things for me to worry about than a mystery signal Australian researchers found.

"Apparently, the Chilean government is also corroborating their report."

The odds of it being broken equipment or interference are incredibly high. I doubt there is anything to it.

"You shouldn't believe everything you see on the internet."

My voice's imitating and sarcastic tone causes Mom to poke her head out of the kitchen and look at me.

"Hey, don't steal my material like that."

A small chuckle leaves me, and I pick up the remote, turning on the TV. I zoom through the channels. Using my speed to see if anything actually good is on. Nothing really grabs my attention. When you can't find something on cable.

Go to Youtube.

After opening Youtube on the TV, I keep seeing the same type of content. Clickbait is rampant all over the internet, but no more so than on Youtube.

I'm someone who enjoys documentaries.

Be it historical, religious, astronomical, scientific, biological, or geographical. If it's something I can learn from, I'll watch it.

So I have a lot of channels on my Youtube that are based around these subjects. I'm seeing videos on the signal that Mom was talking about. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I select one.

~~~(POV: Eloise Mayer)~~~

~~~(Location: Mayer Ranch, Umatilla County, Oregon)~~~

~~~(Date, Time, Year: March 13th, 11:25 AM PST, 2022)~~~

~~~(Current Age: 38 Years)~~~

"According to the report, that is. I personally think it's an error with their equipment. It's impossible that an object of this size is under the ice. Giving off a signal. These images and pictures are unreliable."

The words coming from the TV have been holding most of my attention during the last stretch of cooking Dannon's lunch. Looks like curiosity got the best of him. Who's the person believing now?

When I read the article early today, I found it interesting. While I don't believe it, it's not something I'm discounting. I raised an Alien, after all. Who knows what's under that ice? Maybe it's an ancient dinosaur that releases signals and electricity.

That's just my imagination running wild. Someone interested in the findings will do something more than a basic report and a press release with some pictures and images.

"Food's almost ready!"

I've made a plate for Dannon and one for me. As I leave the kitchen and bring the delicious meal I've prepared to the living room, I see the look on my son's face.

He grabs the plate and starts to eat, but I can see his mind is elsewhere. I don't like to be a nosy nelly. A helicopter Mom. Someone annoying, basically.

"Thanks, Mom..."

A mouthful of food isn't exactly something pleasant to hear. Nonetheless, he's enjoying the food. I can see it in his smile as he eats. I know my son, and when things are hard for him. A good meal from me can help him.

"I'll be heading into town later tonight to meet some friends. Should I get anything from the store on the way back? I noticed that you're running out of popsicles."

There is no answer from him, and I can only internally sigh. He's too focused on his food to think about anything else.

Well, just another sign I did a good job.

~~~(POV: Julian D. Winters)~~~

~~~(Location: The Situation Room, Washington DC, West Virginia)~~~

~~~(Date, Time, Year: March 15th, 7:00 PM EST, 2022)~~~

~~~(Current Age: 53 Years)~~~

"Operation: Ice Crack. We'll use high-powered lasers and thermite to burn a hole into the ice. We can't do it directly above the object. The way down would be too treacherous. However, we can come at an angle."

Jeffrey has got a good idea. The gear would freeze in places without heat. Eventually damaging and disabling our machines. Going through the ice at such an angle means we can better manage time, energy, and personnel.

Something that would be hell if we were right above the object and burning a hole through the ice to it.

"Our scientists report due to it being 1.8 kilometers under the ice, a safe angle would be somewhere around a distance of 5.4 kilometers in any direction from the object. Start our operation there, and we're in business."

Jeffrey is good at reading reports. It's why he's the commander of the NSA.

We've got our plan in place, and our Navy is moving to the Antarctic Continent. In the next 36 hours, we've got a secure site ready for deployment once we arrive. We can start boring a path down with lasers and thermite.

Mr. President looks at the operation details in silence. I'm looking at Ben, and he's watching the President's reaction.

"How long until China and Europe send out operations of their own?"

We're ahead of them by 45 hours.

"They've already begun, but they're behind. By the time they've started for Antarctica, we'll already have our operation going."

Ben summarizes the opposition standpoint better than the actual report does. There are a lot of moving parts to this. A lot of things can go wrong.

He momentarily lifts his eyes from the paper and leans back in his chair. Thinking. I'm about to say something when he raises his hand. Stopping me.

He's heard enough from Ben and doesn't want to hear anything from me.

"Begin Operation: Ice Crack."

I stand up from my chair and walk over to a phone already prepared for me. I give the go order to the officer on the other side.

Our Navy has its orders, and now our operatives have them too. Here's to hoping that things don't blow up in our faces. Whatever's below the ice is a problem if we're not the first to have it.

Who knows what could happen if our allies or rivals got their hands on it... It could be the end for the United States.

"Now, I'm about to go upstairs and spend time with my wife and youngest daughter. I suggest everyone in this room call their loved ones and spend just a moment with them. Who knows how busy we'll be in the coming days or weeks."

Mr. President has the right idea, and that's something I'm going to do as well.