Terminal Freeze

The pain in her head was spiking cruelly, her heart laboring in her chest. And yet she could not retreat, could not even move. She was transfixed by fear. Now the creature stopped again, crouching, maybe twenty feet from them. But not once did it blink or look away. It seemed to Ekberg that its eyes were hard and deep as topaz, burning with fierce i

It remained motionless for perhaps sixty seconds. The only sound was the low whirring of Conti’s camera, her own strained breathing. And then, once again, it began creeping toward them.

This was too much for Wolff. With a low groan he wheeled around and went tearing back down the corridor, gun clattering unheeded to the ground.

The thing paused again, more briefly this time. A narrow tongue, forked and pink, peeped out from below the vibrissae. It extended-farther, farther-licking first one tusk, then the other.

It was at this point Conti seemed to go a little mad. He began to laugh, softly at first, and then louder. At least, in her paroxysm of horror and disbelief, Ekberg thought it must be a laugh: a strange, high sound.

Eeeeeeee, Conti keened, still louder now, the camera tilting visibly as his shoulders shook: Heeee-eeeeeeeeeee…

“Emilio,” she whispered.

“I’ve got it!” Conti cried, almost hysterically. “It’s a wrap. It’s a wrap! Eeeeee-heeeeeee-”

In two bounds the thing was on him, knocking him violently into the air. The camera sailed down the hallway, hitting a wall and then falling to the floor, shivering into pieces. As he fell, the creature caught Conti between its enormous front paws and began to spin him, like a craftsman using a lathe, clutching him close and ru

49

When Marshall stepped into the control room, black metal box in hand, he could see Sully and Logan in the studio beyond the glass partition, bending over a wheeled cart of stainless steel. As he looked at the cart, his heart sank. The contraption sitting on it looked more like a child’s erector set than a weapon for killing a two-ton monster. On its upper tray sat a small forest of analog and primitive digital equipment: potentiometers, voltage-controlled filters, low-frequency oscillators, long-throw fader and control pots, all co

The group had spent the last thirty minutes ripping open crates and breaking apart racks of unused instrumentation, frantically trying to cobble together a machine capable of generating a wide variety of high-frequency sound waves at as great an amplitude as possible. They had ultimately taken the tweeter from a much larger piece of sonic equipment than the woofer, on the assumption that high frequencies would most likely prove harmful to the creature. Although Marshall had been a proponent of the scheme-mostly because it was the only plan that seemed to have a chance-he was well aware what a gamble it was: whether the device would work at all, or whether in fact it would deter the beast. They were assembling it on a movable cart so that it could be placed anywhere-ideally, far outside the science wing-allowing them a fallback position in case it failed.

He handed Sully the metal box. “Here’s the ring modulator. Faraday managed to liberate it from an active sonar emitter.”

Sully placed it on the upper tray, co

“Back in the equipment room, gathering spares.”

“Well, this just leaves the dry-cell batteries. You didn’t happen to see any, by chance?”

“No. But I wasn’t looking. I was too busy tearing apart that transducer array.”

“I’ll go find some, then.” And the climatologist straightened up, walked through the control room and into the corridor. He glanced briefly over his right shoulder before disappearing to the left.

Marshall knew why Sully had glanced to the right. He had glanced that way himself before stepping into the control room. That way led to the main hatch of the science wing: where Gonzalez and Phillips were standing guard, machine guns at the ready, watching for any sign of the creature.

He became aware that Logan was looking at him. “Any idea what kind of secret research was meant to go on here?” the historian asked.

Marshall shrugged. “So little of the equipment was actually assembled or unpacked, it’s difficult to tell. But from the variety of passive sonar devices-I haven’t seen much active sonar equipment here-I’d guess they were hoping to supplement the early warning radar with a stealth sonar emitter.”

“As in, much closer to Russia.”

Marshall nodded. “Possibly even within. Active sonar would give you an object’s exact position. But an installation like Fear Base wouldn’t need to know that-at least, not right away. They’d be more interested in whether an object was simply headed for them-and passive sonar could do that, silently, using TMA to plot a missile’s trajectory.”

“TMA?”

“Target motion analysis. Its solution would give range, speed, even course-long before the radar here could get a positional lock.”

“And all in a package small and quiet enough to escape notice. Interesting.” Logan paused. “The real question, I guess, is whether it’s going to save our asses.”

Marshall glanced down at the mad-scientist device on the tray between them. “I think we have a fighting chance. Of the five senses, hearing is the only one that’s a completely mechanical process. A sound wave actually changes air pressure, causes vibration. Extreme low-frequency sound can cause shortness of breath, depression, even anxiety in humans. High-frequency noise has been thought by some to interfere with normal heart rhythms or even cause cancer. There are all sorts of rumors of infrasonic or ultrasonic weapons that can injure, paralyze, even kill.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Perhaps that kind of research was the real intent of this installation.”

“That would be ironic.” Logan patted the side of the cart. “And now this is complete?”

“Except for the batteries, yes. Sully’s out gathering those.”

“So we’ve got our weapon. Now we just need the target.”

“There’s no guarantee it’s heading this way-we may need to find a lure of some kind.”

“Or perhaps the proper term would be ‘bait.’” Logan paused again. “There’s something else I’ve been thinking about. These two creatures-the one you found, and the one they found fifty years ago: Do you suppose they’re related?”