Terminal Freeze

51

“Move, move!” And Marshall physically propelled Ekberg down the corridor and through the reinforced hatchway. The M16 that thumped against his back as he ran was an unfamiliar-and yet too familiar-weight. Just inside the hatchway, Sully-white-faced but determined-was manning the controls of the sonic weapon. Long power cables led away from it back into the electrical room, pulled taut, at the limit of their range. The big drivers sitting on the bottom tray crackled and hummed with latent power, the woofer trembling slightly. Directly behind were Faraday and Logan, looking on anxiously. They were flanked by Gonzalez and Phillips, both kneeling, automatic weapons pointing out through the hatchway and down the corridor. Usuguk stood behind them. He was holding his medicine bundle in both hands and chanting a low monody.

Marshall looked around quickly. This was exactly the situation he had hoped to avoid: hatchway wide open; weapon inside the science wing, untested and unproven; all of them now utterly exposed and vulnerable to attack. “We should close the hatch,” he said. “Just close it, now.”

“We’ll have time,” Sully replied. “If it doesn’t work, if it doesn’t stop the creature, we’ll have time.”

Marshall opened his mouth to protest again but at that moment there was movement at the corridor junction. All eyes turned to the dim hallway beyond the hatch. Slowly, a huge form came into view. Marshall stared in disbelief at the features: the wide, spade-shaped head; the teeth that gleamed wickedly; the dozens of razorlike tentacles that hung beneath. It was the creature of his nightmare, only worse: he’d seen the top of the head through the ice, but the dark occlusions had mercifully hidden the hideous lower half from view. Although perhaps it wasn’t merciful, after all, because surely if they could have seen those dreadful teeth through the ice, those vibrissae that slithered like a nest of snakes, they would never, never have allowed such a horrible beast ever to be unfrozen…For a moment he simply stared in horror and surprise. Then he unslung the weapon and pulled Ekberg over to Faraday.

“Take her deep into the science wing,” he said. “Find the safest, most secure spot you can. And lock yourselves in.”

“But-” Faraday began.

“Do it, Wright. Please.”

The biologist hesitated a moment. Then, nodding, he reached for Ekberg’s elbow and together they retreated back down the passageway, past the soldiers and the softly chanting Usuguk, rounded the corner, and disappeared from view.

Marshall turned back to the nightmare that was now crouched, fully exposed, at the corridor junction. From over his shoulder he could hear somebody breathing stertorously. “No,” said Phillips in a high desperate voice. “No, God, please. Not again.”

“Steady, soldier,” growled Gonzalez.

Sully-also breathing loudly-wiped his hands on his shirt, replaced them on the potentiometers and oscillator pots. Marshall crept forward half a dozen paces to the inner fairing of the hatchway, ducking behind the metal lip. He smacked the bottom of the ammo clip to make sure it was properly seated, pulled back the slide rod at the top of the weapon to chamber the first round, felt around the handle for the safety and toggled it off.

The creature took a step forward, looking at each of them in turn with unblinking eyes.

“Any time you’re ready, Doctor,” said Gonzalez.

The creature took another stealthy, deliberate step. There were bare streaks here and there in the matted hair that lay across its powerful shoulders-bullet tracings-and through those streaks Marshall could see the dull gleam of what looked like a snake’s scales.

Sully’s hands were shaking badly. “I’ll, I’ll try the wash of white noise first.”

For a moment, all Marshall heard was Phillips’s labored breathing and the rattle of another weapon being cocked. Then a squeal of static came from the drivers.

The creature took another step.

Sully’s voice was high and tight. “I’ll raise the sound pressure to 60 decibels, apply a low-pass filter.”

The volume abruptly increased, filling the narrow corridor. Still the creature came on.

“No effect,” said Sully over the wash of noise. “I’ll try a simple waveform instead. Sawtooth, fundamental frequency of 100 hertz.”

The sound of static faded, replaced by a low hum, rising quickly in pitch.

In the hallway, the creature stopped.

“Square wave next,” Sully said. “Raising frequency to 390 hertz at 100 decibels.”

The sound broadened, grew more complex. And as it did, Marshall began to hear-or thought he heard-a strange, faint singing, like the low tone of some sinister organ, borne on a distant wind: a complex, exotic, mysterious sound that had nothing to do with the waveforms created by Sully. His head felt strangely full, as if with some internal pressure.

The creature hesitated, one massive forepaw raised in mid-step.

“Adding the sine oscillator now,” came Sully’s voice. “I’ll raise the frequency, 880 hertz.”

“Goose the decibels,” Marshall called over his shoulder.

The sound grew louder still, until the metal walls of the corridor seemed to vibrate with noise. “Passing the threshold of pain!” shouted Sully. “At 120 decibels!”

The maelstrom of sound, overlaid with the fullness in Marshall ’s head, threatened to grow maddening. The creature took a step backward. Its haunches jerked slightly, as with involuntary tremors. It shook its shaggy head: once, twice, violent shakes of obvious pain.

“Just the sine wave now!” Sully cried. “It’s working!”

And then-suddenly-the creature gathered itself into a crouch, preparing to spring.

A dozen things happened simultaneously. Phillips and Sully cried out in dismay and fear. The volume of the device spiked still further, broadening and swelling. Gonzalez gave an almost inaudible command to fire. And then bullets were singing past Marshall ’s head, ripping down the corridor in strafes of gray smoke as they whined off walls and tottering piles of surplus equipment. Marshall raised his own gun and depressed the trigger. He could see his bullets running true; see them impact the creature, then ricochet off; watched fresh streaks of chitinous obsidian appear on the beast’s withers and flanks as the slugs exposed more exoskeleton. At this moment of crisis, of absolute extremity, time seemed to slow and reality fade: it was as if Marshall could almost see each individual bullet fly down the corridor on its violent, futile journey.

And then the beast charged. Instantly, Marshall flung himself toward the hatch in a desperate attempt to shut it, heedless of the fire being laid down by Gonzalez and Phillips. But the creature moved with remarkable speed. In a heartbeat it was past the hatch and through, knocking Marshall aside, throwing him against the wall with a sickening impact, leaping over the sonic weapon and overturning it in the process as-with single-minded ferocity-it seized Sully in its forepaws and, with two savage twists of its head, tore his arms from their sockets.