Work Text:
Adventure was great and all, sure, but sometimes Stan found that he did miss some of the simple pleasures of his old life back home. Junk food. Bad daytime TV. Not feeling like his toes were going to fall off from the cold. Why in the world had he agreed to come all the way to Antarctica, anyway? Not that long ago, he would've talked his way out of this. He was losing his touch.
"You sure these clothes are enough?"
"I've told you," said Ford for the billionth time, "these are standard equipment."
"Yeah, but standard equipment from what decade?" he insisted. "I bet that Amusin' guy had better stuff whan we do."
"Amundsen. And... all right, we're probably behind a couple of years. It's not that bad."
"If by 'a couple' you mean 'thirty'."
Ford hesitated for a second, which couldn't possibly be a good sign.
"Thirty-six," he said at last. Stan had one of those rare moments when he was glad that they hadn't brought the kids along. That was a really long string of profanities he needed to let out right now.
"Those are very rude words," said a new voice from somewhere behind him, which nearly made him jump out of his skin. "Are you rude? My master is rude sometimes too. Maybe we can all be friends!"
Stan turned around slowly, not knowing what to expect - but it sure wasn't what he saw.
"You're a dog," he said in a flat tone. At this point, he was starting to think nothing could surprise him. Ford, on the other hand, looked fascinated by the animal. Which, again, wasn't a surprise at all. So he was still right.
"A talking dog! How is that possible? Mutation? Radiation? Are you from a different universe?"
"I'm a dog!" it (he?) said.
"Right. Real helpful."
"Stanley."
"What? It's the truth."
"Oh, yes! I can be real helpful! Just ask my master! Look, here he comes!"
At first, all that Stan could see was a vaguely human-shaped figure in a brightly colored snowsuit. A suit that looked way newer and better than the ones they had, for the record, not that there was any point in bringing that up again. Then, when the newcomer was close enough, he could tell that it was a guy about their age. What were the odds?
"Oh! You found my dog," he said. "Thanks. He gets excited and runs away a lot."
"There was a penguin!"
"This is Antarctica, there are loads of penguins." He gave the twins a curious look. "But I wasn't really expecting to find more people my age, to be honest. You guys are scientists?"
They answered 'yes' and 'no' at the exact same time, because of course they did. Then they all finally introduced each other. The guy's name was Carl, and the dog was not so creatively named Dug, but apparently that had been a previous owner's fault. By the time Ford stopped obsessing about that collar and how it worked, they were all about to freeze where they stood.
"Can't we talk about this somewhere that's not made entirely of ice? Like our ship?"
"Well," said Carl, "I've got a blimp."
That was so unbelievably cool - not that either of them would admit it out loud - that there was no debate at all. Blimp it was. Fortunately, the dog hadn't managed to stray too far from it, so it only took them a little while to get there. It was way bigger and more comfortable than the Stan o' War, and there was a lot of food stored in there, too. Stan had barely stepped into the airship and he was already sure that he was going to miss it when he left.
"So, what are you two doing so far away from everything?" asked Carl while he poured everyone some much needed coffee.
"We're having an adventure! Are you having an adventure too?" interrupted Dug from somewhere under the table. Carl sighed.
"Good thing I don't keep secrets," he muttered. "But yes. We're just travelling around because we can. What about you?"
"Pretty much the same," said Stan. "Give or take punching a few monsters."
"You make it sound so undignified," Ford sighed. "Researching supernatural anomalies, is what he means."
"Nah. I do mean punching."
"All right, let's say it's both, then," Ford compromised. "We've been following anomalies all over the continent, from lake monsters in Oregon to lake monsters in Patagonia. The interesting thing is, all over the world there's mythology, legends, folk stories..."
Stan groaned, bracing himself for a speech that he had already heard a billion times, but Ford didn't stop talking. Or even acknowledge his interruption. Rude.
"Anywhere humans have lived," he continued, "there are tales of supernatural creatures. A lot of those are true - versions of the truth, at least. They exist for a reason. But here, in Antarctica, there were no humans at all until very recently. Then people started building scientific bases around here, but those aren't exactly conducive to folk stories, of course. So," he made the usual dramatic pause here, "the beauty of Antarctica is that we have no idea of what we're going to find."
"Well, we're probably not going to find a Sphinx around here."
"You just had to ruin it, didn't you."
Amazingly enough, Carl wasn't bored yet.
"But you do expect to find something anyway, right?" he asked. "Like... I don't know, a monster penguin or something?"
"Statistically speaking, yes, it's likely that there are supernatural creatures here too. They are all over the world, after all."
"Plus we get chased by monsters a lot, so it figures we'd get chased by monsters in Antarctica too."
"That's what I said, Stanley."
"Yeah, well, you said it like a nerd."
Whatever Ford was going to answer to that (probably something nerdy, he was sure) never left his mouth. The blimp suddenly shook, and it wasn't just because of the wind. Something was grabbing it and shaking - which Stan could tell for the very simple reason that there were tentacles quite visible from one of the windows.
"Oh, come on! Again? We came all this way for another giant squid? And after that speech, too! So much for variety."
"You mean this really happens often to you?"
"More than we'd like," said Ford. "Giant squids are oddly common after all."
"... right, I meant the getting chased by monsters part."
"Oh. Well, yes, that too."
"Is anyone going to do anything about this or do I have to do all the work like always?" said Stan, already half-running, half-falling towards the windows. He picked up the first blunt thing he could reach, which happened to be a chair.
"Are you going to fight that with a chair?" asked Carl, somewhat out of breath from trying to catch Dug before the dog fell off an entirely different window. Stan didn't waste his momentum, and broke the one nearest to him as he replied.
"Sure. I once punched a pterodactyl in the face."
"And he will not shut up about it."
To Ford's credit, not that Stan would admit it out loud, he was actually doing something while he argued. What he was doing wasn't clear just yet, but he'd got out a few tools and was tinkering with stuff, and that usually led to monsters getting into trouble. Stan couldn't stay still to watch what it was that he was building, though. He was kind of busy trying to hit that squid. Now it'd wrapped a tentacle around his chair, and after some tug-of-war, Stan fell down on his butt and with no chair. Great.
"Quick! Something blunt!"
Carl slid a large book towards him, and it wasn't the best weapon but it'd have to do. Before Stan could catch it, however, there was a blinding flash of red light. The squid shook and loosened its grip, clearly upset by whatever Ford had shot at it, but didn't let go completely.
"What are you doing? It'll drop us!" yelled Carl. "The envelope must be crushed by now, it won't float!"
"That's what the antigravity device is for," said Ford. "But we need to hold on to something. And make sure you keep a strong grip on Dug."
Stan took the time to shoot him a mistrustful look before he held on tight to the window frame.
"You sure it'll work this time?"
"Of course I'm sure. I fixed it. Is everyone ready?"
"Yes," said Carl and Stan at the same time.
"I'm getting a hug!" said Dug.
Ford took out the antigravity device and turned it on. Everything and everyone inside the blimp started floating immediately, but the airship itself didn't. It must have still been held too tightly by that stupid squid. For a few moments, nothing happened.
"Now what?" Carl asked. "I thought you were going to hit it with that ray again."
"Yes, well..." Ford hesitated, and Stan was sure that, if he hadn't been floating around while hanging for dear life, he'd be shifting uncomfortably. "It needs to recharge."
"Oh, come on! You've got to be kidding me!"
"I just built a ray gun in less than five minutes with no supplies! This is not the time to be picky!"
They probably would have kept arguing for a long time - Stan certainly felt like it - but they were cut short by another sudden shake. And then, even worse, the stupid squid started actually crushing the blimp. Just what they needed. He didn't even get to yell at his brother, because Carl did it first.
"Any chance on that thing charging before my home is destroyed?"
"Any moment now! Just-- ah, there it is!"
A second wave of red light filled the place, and the stupid squid finally let go of the blimp. It didn't fall, so that was something.
"All right, let's get out of here before it gets back! This can still fly, right?"
"I can still steer it," said Carl. "Just keep the antigravity thingy working. And someone needs to hold Dug for me."
"I'll get him," said Stan, and not a second later Dug was already floating towards him and going wheeeeee!.
Carl managed to find his way to the steering wheel and started to lead them away from danger. Meanwhile, Ford made sure that the ray gun was recharging again - just in case. Hopefully they wouldn't need it anyway. Stan would almost had felt useless if it wasn't for the tiny detail that keeping that silly dog from floating away turned out to be a very hard job.
"Will you stay still? You're going to fly off a window if you keep moving!"
"I'm a dog! I'm always moving!"
"Dug, listen to the nice man," said Carl.
"Nice? Come on, that's insulting."
"Is this really the time, Stanley?"
"It's always the time! I have a reputation to keep!"
"Will you two shut up!" snapped Carl. "I'm trying to steer a half-destroyed blimp here!"
Oddly enough, that managed to make them stop. It was probably the surprise, Stan thought. Sure, they were used to yelling at each other, but someone else doing it? That was pretty new. Granted, their little truces never lasted long. The thing about feeling just like when they were kids was that, well, they felt just like when they were kids. But, luckily, this time they didn't need to find out how long they would last while being quiet. Carl was really good at steering half-destroyed blimps, it turned out.
It wasn't the most graceful of landings, but all things considered it went pretty well. Once the slide across the ice stopped, they realized everyone was all right. Even the dog.
The blimp, though... Not so much.
"Well, isn't that great," Carl sighed. "This is going to take forever to fix."
"Hmm. Not if we get the right tools," said Ford. "Perhaps we can borrow some from one of the scientific bases--"
"Ha! Sure, that'll work. Three old men and a talking dog randomly show up at a base. That will sure end well!"
"You are such a pessimist, Stanley."
"Eh, it's worth a try," said Carl. "It's not like we have much of a choice anyway. We can't stand here in the cold forever."
"Everyone's forgetting something," Stan interrupted. "We didn't exactly teleport here, either. We have a ship. With tools in it. Nevermind that my super genius brother didn't think of that."
"That... does in fact make sense," Ford agreed, somewhat grudgingly. "And I don't think we ended up very far from it. We can make that walk."
Carl didn't seem very convinced. He gave his fallen blimp a concerned look.
"We can't just leave this here, though," he sighed.
"Why not? Who's going to steal it in Antarctica? Let's just... bury it under the snow until we come back so the wind won't scatter stuff, and we're done."
"Huh. That's a good idea."
"My brother is a bit of an expert on hiding valuables, yes."
"Says mister Billion Secret Hideouts."
"That's completely different," said Ford, "and anyway, we should start walking before we get too cold."
"Sure, go ahead and change the subject. That's what losers do," said Stan.
"Penguin!" said Dug.
It was going to be a long, long walk.