"Mike, are you sure this thing is safe?" Anthony Moore stared nervously out the window of the helicopter at the miles of shadowed, greenish ice stretching as far as the eye could see. He thought he liked air travel, but that was before he had set foot inside a helicopter; all the corny action movies he had seen with exploding helicopters were playing over and over in his head, and the eeriness of their mission and the location weren't helping. He checked the safety of his gun for the umpteenth time and sighed.
There was a coarse laugh from the front. "I wouldn't have lasted long as a pilot if it wasn't, would I? Trust me, it'll be fine."
This reference to the pilot dying didn't help Anthony's mood much, and he clenched the side of the window with a death grip. Somewhere near the rear of the chopper, Ivan, one of his colleagues sat up. "Is it much farther?" he asked, his heavy accent rendering the words difficult for Anthony to understand.
"Nah... we'll be in sight soon, if there really is anything to sight. If the General is right, there won't be anything but polar bears and ice."
"There are no polar bears in..." began Anthony.
"I know." Mike cut him off, laughing. "Penguins, then."
"I don't think they come this far inland." Anthony retorted.
"Eskimos?"
"None of those, either. Try AT-ATs..."
"Too icy. Scuzzlebutt?"
"No volcano. What about..."
Ivan cleared his throat loudly and glared at them both. "Would you two please be quiet?" he asked, his tone indicating an order rather than a request; both complied, and Anthony returned to staring out the window at the clear, cold night. Suddenly he stiffened and his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.
"Mike..."
Something in his tone startled the pilot, but before he could say anything Anthony continued. "Mike... what is that?"
That is a strange noise, like cutting the winds. Where is it coming from? ......... Oh, there it is, in the sky. It appears so heavy, yet it flies... how? No, that is of little import; I hunger still, so I shall not choose. Those things inside it, perhaps they are the followers. They are frightened... come, little beings. Come closer. Do not fear the darkness, brave ones. Do not fear the darkness...
The metal device made a sharp turn and tried to escape, but it was too late.
Somewhere to the left, a huge shape, darker than the arctic night, closed in on it with a speed at odds with its immense size. There was a terrible, ghastly silence, and black vapors filled the quiet air.
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Terribly sorry it's so short and inconclusive; I just really wanted to get the Antarctica storyline going. I'll write something better later, hopefully...