PROLOGUE
Bouvetoya Whaling Station:
Antarctica, 1900
A half frozen whaler by the name of Karl stumbled down the narrow street of the whaling
station, using the wall of the shack beside him as a guide while he ran for his life. Dressed only in a t-shirt and jeans, the slowly freezing man ignored the frost building in his beard and his bluing skin as he inched down the main street, eyes flicking around wildly in search of them. He passed scattered tools and other supplies, abandoned to the cold, slowly freezing in place. The wind howled around Karl but he barely felt it, his breaths coming in short gasps and -
Was that a noise?
The whaler stopped short of the building he'd been going for. The greenhouse building was on his direct left side and he had to work hard to ignore the frozen, bloody smears that covered the front.
Feeling eyes on him, Karl darted across the road and into the mess hall, slamming the door closed behind him. Still breathing heavily, he took in his surroundings, slowly moving deeper into the hall. Harpoons, lances, and louchets swayed gently above his head as they hung from the ceiling. Aside from the sound of pots boiling over in the kitchen, all was silent.
Shivering, Karl continued through the set up of tables, forty places made up for a crew nowhere to be seen.
A low growl had the man freezing in place. Karl slowly rotated on the spot, his eyes widening as a large, distorted shape flickered into view, closing in on him. He backed away quickly and in his haste to get away, caught the leg of a chair and fell. The fall didn't sway him and as he scrambled back, he heard a metallic sound as three red dots slid across his chest. Summoning the last of his strength, Karl got to his knees and turned, preparing to make a break for the back kitchen.
He found himself staring into the double-mouth of a pitch black nightmare.
The whaler's scream was drowned out by a loud roar, followed by screeches and energy blasts before dying off.
Silence fell over the whaling station.
New Mexico High Desert: Weyland Industries
T.D.R.S. Receiving Station, 2000 (Present Day)
The air conditioning whirred away inside the Receiving Station, giving the handful of bored scientists and technicians a reprieve from the desert heat as they monitored the room full of screens. Data, collected from the Weyland Industries satellites that orbited the Earth, not that anything interesting was ever found. The screens in the rooms were almost always filled with images of nothing.
Until…
A blond technician by the name of Keith looked away from his movie when a beeping noise sounded from a console on the wall behind him. "Hey Laurie?" He called his supervisor over as he started to zoom in on the image. "You should take a look at this."
The small brunette woman approached the screen, not expecting too much. "What is it?"
"The data stream from PS-12." Keith began to print copies of the images.
"Big Bird," Laurie murmured. "Where is it?"
"Right over Sector 14."
She stared at him blankly, "There isn't anything in Section 14."
"There is now." Keith handed her a photo.
Laurie stared at the pattern of interlocking square shapes for a long moment before saying, "Wake them up."
"Who?" He asked.
"Everybody."