TA-3 Research Drilling Station: Shower and Sanitation Facility
A short, stubby tail gave a faint, irritated twitch. Attached to the tail, a stocky behind, hind legs, and arctic boots completed the view.
General Marvin Huxley was down on all fours, gently tapping his way along a frost-covered pipe with a hammer, his remaining tools laid out in a neat, deliberate line beside him.
Tap, tap… crack! A lump of ice and biomass gave way somewhere inside the pipe.
Huxley muttered in quiet satisfaction.
Huxley: …there you go, you little crap-turd.
He heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Rebecca had stopped just behind him, taking in the entire scene with a practiced lack of surprise.
Rebecca: Sir? We do have engineers for that.
Huxley didn’t look up as he continued to tap his way along the pipe.
Huxley: I’m aware.
A moment’s silence, then with a slight huff, Huxley pushed himself up and returned to his full height in one fluid motion.
Huxley: I also have a sanitation system here that’s about to lose flow and freeze solid if this backs up again.
He shifted his weight slightly and gave the toilet a flush, listening to the steady movement of water through the pipes.
Which makes it my problem.
After a moment, he flushed it again, just to be sure. He watched the water in the bowl for half a second longer than necessary, then gave a single, satisfied nod.
There. Sorted.
Collecting his tools, he returned them carefully to all their proper places in the toolbox.
Rebecca folded her arms lightly.
Rebecca: Recommend washing your paws, Sir.
Huxley glanced down at them briefly and gave a small mental shrug.
Huxley: Noted.
Then, as he was already moving past her—
Status on the new drill site?
TA-3: Drilling Site-2
The drill cut cleanly into the frozen ground, the rig vibrating under load as Matthias supervised its downward progress.
Matthias: Progress steady. Depth five-zero metres.
Markus stood beside the rig, his eyes focused solely on the gas analyser. But his nose was telling him something different.
He tilted his head slightly and lifted his nose, interrogating the cold air.
He caught Matthias’ eye and raised his paw.
Markus: Hold it there.
He sniffed again, more deliberately this time.
Something’s different.
The gas analyser registered a solid detection a moment later.
Volatiles increasing. Methane—above nominal baseline.
Elena didn’t look up from her screen, which was giving continual readings from the thermal probe.
Elena: Temperature’s shifted up slightly—not significant, just a couple of degrees. We’re getting into something warmer.
The tone of the drill shifted—not that it was working any harder, but more a slight increase in rotation that indicated it had encountered softer material.
The vibration dulled, and the resistance eased noticeably as the bit moved into something less rigid than ice or rock.
Matthias: We’ve changed layers.
Markus: Judging by the methane increase, I’d say we’ve definitely hit something organic.
Lucas stepped in closer, with his sample canister already open. His brown eyes were bright with anticipation behind his goggles.
Lucas: Now there’s a sentence I like hearing. Say it again—like you mean it!
The core sample was recovered cleanly from the borehole. Lucas took it carefully and slid it free from the casing.
His brain needed a moment to process what his eyes were seeing. It was not ice, and it was not rock.
Right there in his hands were strands of recognisable darkened brown fur still clinging to partially frozen tissue. Pale fragments of bone could also be seen embedded through the sample.
They had struck Pleistocene gold.
Lucas: Oh my… I mean, just wow!
He turned it slightly in his hands, studying it.
If this is what I think it is, then we just found something incredible! You don’t find mammoth leftovers every day.
Elena moved in beside him.
Elena: Careful Luc. Remember to use all standard precautions.
Lucas tried not to let his irritation show. He was still only just out of university, and this expedition gig had been his dream job.
It appeared that he had just found an incredibly well-preserved sample. He was already starting to daydream about a new species of mammoth being named after him—Mammuthus Lucigenicus.
Elena’s interruption had just broken his little private reverie. He blinked once or twice as he snapped back to reality.
Lucas: I am being careful—you’re starting to sound like Becks.
He turned, waved his gloved hands, and gave Elena a silly grin.
“Wash your hands before supper!”
He eased the sample into the canister, carefully adjusting it to fit without forcing it in.
He turned the seal with a firm twist—but the first attempt didn’t click. He immediately saw that some grit from the drill casing was preventing the seal from engaging properly. He brushed the grit away with his fingers and tried again. As he worked, a tiny tear opened in the thumb tip of one glove. Finally, with an irritated grunt, the seal clicked into place.
The exertion and excitement had made his breathing heavy, and it was fogging lightly in the cool air.
Lucas: Sample depth logged at fifty metres. Sample secured, transferring to primary crate.
Elena glanced across briefly, before turning back to her probe readout.
Elena: Organic megafauna residue confirmed.
Preservation is—
She screwed up her nose.
Exceptional.
Markus gave a small nod, acknowledging Elena, while his eyes remained firmly fixed on the gas analyser.
Markus: That’ll explain the volatiles.
Lucas was still in a buoyant mood and gave a conspiratorial nod.
Lucas: Mammoth farts.
Matthias was as ever entirely focused on what still needed to be done.
Matthias: Drilling continuing, rotation steady, passing one-zero-zero metres.
The drill pushed further downwards, the tone shifting again as the rotation slowed, higher resistance returning as the bit drilled into deeper rock.
Matthias: Back into solid formation.
The next core sample came up dark and dense, the cylindrical return clearly defined and clean-edged.
Lucas checked it, his previous enthusiasm had waned, and he now showed noticeably less interest this time.
Lucas: Rock return. Igneous.
He slid the core sample into a canister and placed it into the primary field crate.
Elena: Temperature’s climbing—it’s a steady increase.
There was no concern in Elena’s voice, her tone maintaining that of a more routine observation.
The drill continued its descent.
One hundred and fifty metres. Two hundred.
The rig held steady, the machine responsive to Matthias’ every adjustment, Hunde and machine in perfect synchronisation.
Then came a subtle jolt—not violent, just a slight release. The drill string dropped half a fraction, and the resistance fell away.
Elena looked up this time, her tone slightly elevating.
Elena: Sharp temperature increase!
The thermal probe readout had jumped significantly. They had found something hot. Very hot.
Markus quickly checked the analyser, then the rig readouts.
Markus: Pressure’s building in the borehole.
Matthias reacted immediately, his paws moving over the controls like a concert pianist.
Matthias: All stop!
Two-five-zero metres.
The load on the rig eased, pausing the descent.
Holding.
The pressure gauges were reading significantly higher—pressure was now pushing back up the borehole casing, it was still contained but rising.
Elena had her eyes glued to her readings.
Elena: Temperature spike is confirmed—holding at 120°C.
We’re in a geothermal pocket.
Markus: Bore pressure is stable.
We’ll secure drilling here until we can fully assess the data.
Elena: I concur, readings are levelling and stable.
Markus gave a small nod. He looked at the depth readout—250 metres, the drill head now stopped.
Markus: Yeah. Cap the casing.
Matthias: I agree.
Matthias capped off the bore casing with his massive torque wrench.
Lucas stood just off to the side, one hand resting lightly on the primary field crate.
He glanced down at it briefly, then back to the rig.
Lucas: That’s a great day’s work—m’lady and associated gentlemen!
Matthias allowed himself the smallest exhale, the tension of the operation finally easing.
Matthias: Yup. Good work everyone.
The borehole was now capped and secured.
TA-3: Laboratory
The laboratory air temperature was carefully maintained—a steady 21°C, with humidity controlled at 50%; a steady hum came from the ventilation unit powered by the diesel generator outside.
James was already waiting inside the iso-tent, gowned, gloved, and respirator on.
Rebecca looked up as Lucas entered the laboratory with the primary crate.
Rebecca: I heard you got a biomass core. Depth fifty metres?
Lucas: That’s the one—bang on fifty. It stank worse than a blocked crapper.
Rebecca’s ears perked forward for a moment.
Rebecca: What do you know about that…?
Lucas shifted his feet, quickly changing the subject.
Lucas: Got another sample too—but that one is just igneous.
With work still to do, Rebecca didn’t inquire any further about the blocked toilet.
She knew.
Rebecca: —Anyway, let’s get these samples processed through to decontamination and isolation.
Lucas gave a small nod and moved toward the negative pressure tent.
The insertion flap parted, sucking in slightly with a soft pull as the pressure shifted. He passed the two sample canisters through to James. He took them without a word, turning them over slightly in his hands.
Lucas lingered just outside, watching through the plastic windows.
James carefully checked the seals, pausing for a moment in thought.
James: There’s something on the rim of this one.
Lucas leaned in slightly to look.
Lucas: Yeah—it was a bit gritty out there. Drill’s been pulling through all sorts of stuff.
James didn’t respond immediately.
He ran a gloved finger lightly along the edge, clearing a faint line of grit. He frowned slightly, lost in thought.
Lucas: It didn’t seat cleanly the first time, I had to have another go to make it click.
Lucas gave a small shrug.
It’s sealed now though.
James studied the biomass canister carefully, a little longer than was strictly necessary, nodding slowly.
It was indeed an exciting find.
He could clearly see the darkened tissue, strands of fur, and fragments of bone. Some structures were still intact—a time capsule frozen and preserved across millennia.
He paused for a moment longer—should he flag the seal as potentially compromised? He checked the seal carefully again; it looked right.
James completed the external decontamination procedure, then carefully placed the canister into the specialised, climate-controlled secondary storage unit.
Outside, Rebecca tapped on the tablet, recording it in the specimen log.
Rebecca: Fifty metres. Organic layer. Secondary storage, decontaminated and secured.
TA-3 Communication Annex
In another annex, Eugene sat at the comms station, his eyes and ears on the incoming stream of data from the Now-Sat.
The door opened, and Huxley entered, shaking the snow from his hood.
Huxley: How’s that weather system looking, Gene?
Eugene: A new weather update just in, Sir.
Huxley nodded, indicating for Eugene to continue with his report.
Eugene: The low-pressure system is deepening, Sir. It’s starting to move faster than earlier models.
Eugene turned slightly towards his boss.
It’s still tracking to miss us, but only just.
Sir, I recommend we halt drilling operations and prepare the camp for a potential storm.
Huxley: Confidence?
Eugene: High, Sir.
Huxley held Eugene’s gaze for a fraction longer—drilling operations were not halted lightly.
He then gave a single nod.
Huxley: Very well.
We’ll make preparations.
Keep me updated.
Outside, there was the faintest uptick in the wind. The fabric of the tents acknowledged the change with a slight rustle.
The generator throbbed steadily, and inside the systems hummed gently.
Screw Pile Developments 
Not long ago, I read about a hoax news story from a few decades ago about the Soviets having drilled so deep and found the entrance to hell. Part of me was kind of expecting such a thing while they were drilling. 🙂
No… not quite as deep as hell, but yeah… definitely into a hot pocket.