The discovery of the North Siberian Hangar Complex, located within a geologically anomalous basin of the Tunguska exclusion zone, represents a definitive rupture in our understanding of pre-Holocene aerospace technology. Recovered during the clandestine “Project Aethelgard” excavation of 2024, the site reveals a mᴀssive, circular metallic craft—measuring approximately 45 meters in diameter—partially embedded within a layer of compressed iron-rich sediment. Unlike contemporary aeronautical structures, the craft’s hull exhibits a seamless, molecularly bonded surface that defies standard welding or riveting techniques. According to the suppressed report by Dr. Marcus Sterling, The Iron Architects of the Paleolithic (2022), the craft was not merely a vessel but a functional part of a “Sub-Glacial Launch System” designed to withstand the crushing pressures of the Last Glacial Maximum. The stratigraphic context of the hangar, dating to approximately 35,000 years ago, aligns with a period of unexplained magnetic shifts, suggesting a civilization whose propulsion systems were integrated directly with the Earth’s electromagnetic ley lines.

Forensic examination of the primary cockpit chamber has revealed a series of burial niches containing the skeletal remains of three non-humanoid enтιтies, each exhibiting a specialized cranial morphology. Utilizing the osteological density formula $D = \frac{M}{V}$, where $M$ represents the mineralized mᴀss and $V$ the volumetric displacement of the elongated skulls, researchers determined that these “Pilots” possessed a neural capacity approximately 40% greater than that of modern Homo sapiens. These skeletal remains, characterized by oversized orbital cavities and a lack of traditional human mandibular structures, were found in a state of suspended fossilization within the craft’s interior. Dr. Sterling’s hypothetical citation from the Codex of the Iron Sky mentions a “Triad of Navigators” who were biologically tethered to the craft’s central processing unit through neural-fiber interfaces. The logical conclusion, derived from the absence of life-support systems in the cockpit, is that these enтιтies were bio-engineered specifically for long-duration orbital surveillance, their bodies acting as living circuits for the vessel itself.

The historical timeline for the Siberian Hangar points to a global “Technological Reset” that occurred shortly before the Younger Dryas cataclysm. Declassified 2024 reconnaissance pH๏τos show that the craft’s landing bay was intentionally sealed with a high-density mineral paste, intended to preserve the technology for future recovery. Local Yakut oral traditions have long spoken of the “Iron Caves,” sites where the sky-people entered the earth to wait for the “Return of the Great Light”. The presence of a modern excavation team utilizing heavy-duty hydraulic machinery in the primary hangar zone highlights the sheer scale of the engineering feat required to bury such a monolithic structure. The logical implication of the “Jurᴀssic Mysteries” headline often ᴀssociated with these leaks is that our current archaeological record has systematically categorized these bio-mechanical relics as natural geological formations to prevent a total collapse of established historical narratives.

Ultimately, the North Siberian Hangar and its trio of pilot remains serve as a grim yet undeniable evidentiary bridge to a reality where the boundary between biology and machinery was non-existent. The “Project Aethelgard” findings suggest that these pilots were not visitors from another star system, but the original inhabitants of a pre-human global infrastructure that utilized the Siberian permafrost as a protective vault. As we gaze upon the hollow, elongated skulls of these ancient navigators, we are forced to acknowledge the “Sovereignty of the Metal Gods”—a period when the Earth’s atmosphere was a busy corridor for craft that mastered the very chemistry of the crust. The logical conclusion, supported by the residual gamma-ray emissions measured within the hangar walls, is that this site is not a tomb, but an “active station” in a state of deep-sleep processing. The declassification of these images under the 2025 Transparency Act invites a radical re-evaluation of our origin; we did not invent the machine; we are simply the scavengers exploring the ruins of a forgotten, iron-clad masterpiece.