Thrilled to Death

by James Byron Huggins

  Without missing a beat Frank reached out and switched on a screen that had somehow escaped the chaotic foaming. The monitor blinked unsteadily in red, then orange, flickering.

  “The viewing camera inside the Containment Cavern is shielded from heat,” he said. “It should have survived the blast. If it’s still working, we’ll be able to see it on the monitor.”

  Unsteadily the monitor continued to flicker, hazy and uncertain, before it honed into a gray clarity. Then, as the image cleared, Frank released a dismal laugh, disoriented or stunned.

  “Yeah, it’s in there,” he said, amazement fading into cold observation. “See for yourself.”

  Chesterton was already leaning in front of the screen, staring intently into the haze. Sweat beaded his forehead, his neck. He squinted as he studied the blurred image. “Where?” he muttered. “Where is it?”

  “It’s right in front of you.”

  “No, Doctor. It’s not in there.”

  “Look closer.”

  Chesterton leaned toward the screen, his eyes roaming from one side to the other, searching. Then he suddenly stepped back, a startled curse catching in his throat. A grim hate passed over his face as he lifted a trembling hand, pointing to the screen.

  “All right,” he said. “Shut it off. It’s in there.”

  Frank continued to stare at the screen. “I never saw it coming,” he said, scientific discipline entering to make his voice almost emotionless. “I guess it was a mistake, but I just never saw it coming. None of us did.” A long pause. “I mean, we all knew it had some kind of potential for this. But this was just ... just unreal.”

  Silent, Chesterton stared coldly at the screen.

  “That blast was at least ten thousand degrees,” Frank said, a confused expression. “And the whole attack came from nowhere. It hadn’t made any threatening movements. It didn’t uncoil. There was no increase in heart rate. One minute it was just sitting at the far end of the cavern. Staring at us. And then it just charged forward—” He raised his hands to describe a terrific image. “—and then fire! Everywhere! Nothing but fire!”

  Lowering his hands, Frank quietly joined Chesterton in staring at the screen once more, watching the horrific bestial face hatefully and purposefully poised directly in front of the camera.

  Captured on the monitor, a pair of glowing green eyes glared at them, unable to see through but somehow sensing their presence and blinking with a dark, malicious intelligence—soulless, unmerciful, calculating. A thick row of armored scales, black and green on the sloping forehead, bled off the top half of the screen, the lower half of the screen glinting in jagged white jaws that hung distended, smiling ...

  Mocking.

  “It was testing the strength of the Containment Cell,” Frank commented, continuing to stare.

  Chesterton was grim. “And why is that, Doctor?”

  The scientist dismally shook his head, as if the answer were obvious.

  “It’s hungry.”

  Chapter 2

  Struggling to light a large black bowl pipe with long pulls from a match, the gray-haired old man sat down at the conference table, casually waving the tiny flame into a thin spiral of smoke.

  “I understand that we remain in danger,” Dr. Jason Hoffman commented encouragingly. “But I believe we are fortunate not to find ourselves in immediate peril.”

  “We’re fortunate not to find ourselves dead!” Colonel Chesterton fumed, leaning on the table with both forearms. “That’s something all of you need to realize, Doctor. And let me add that we are not out of the woods. At least, not yet.”

  Hoffman gazed over a broad, flat nose. “Yes, Colonel, I agree. I agree wholeheartedly. But, still, we are not presently in peril.” He nodded curtly to the far end of the table. “Thanks to Peter.”

  Frank, tired and sweaty and still shaking from the terrifying ordeal, said nothing. Silently he pressed his hands flat against a computer printout to still their trembling from residual adrenaline.

  Chesterton leaned forward, a hard edge in his voice. “Look, Dr. Hoffman, I don’t mean to be disrespectful. But it is my obligation to inform you that we are not in a good defensive condition. We have sustained a catastrophic systems failure. We have very little automatic control, which means that the security vaults remain unstable.” His face grew tightened. “No one knows what will happen if that creature does something like this again. The shock might completely shut down the electrical system. It could even open the containment vaults. There’s just no way to know.”

  “I understand, Colonel,” Hoffman responded through a haze of pipe smoke. “Frank, does GEO remain on-line?”

  Frank nodded. “Yes. GEO’s redundant computer core is magnetically shock-suspended to protect it from the island’s natural seismic activity. So that protected it from the impact with only temporary field distortion in the neural net. Right now it’s performing self-diagnosis on all sub processors and dedicated terminal nodes. It’ll finish reconfiguring secondary Cray class units, reprogramming setup standardization, and reestablishing orbital satellite net links. But the system is 75 percent dedicated in reconfiguring and self-diagnosis and those operations are taxing our already strained power supply. There’s still about another two hours of processing remaining.”

  “I understand,” replied Hoffman. “How long before the control panel is repaired?”

  “Twenty-four hours,” Frank answered. “We have replacement parts but we have to get that electrical line repaired first. And we’ll have to use somebody from the surface to do it. My people aren’t qualified.”

  “I see.” Hoffman frowned over his pipe. “Well, Colonel? Is it possible to use someone from the surface personnel to repair the line?”

  A sullen pause, and Chesterton nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Jackson Connor can do it. He’s a master electrician, a mechanic and foreman of the civilian support crew. He knows construction, engines, whatever, so there’s not much he can’t handle. In fact he’s probably the only man on the island who’s qualified to handle it by himself. But he doesn’t have the necessary security clearance to enter the Containment Cavern.”

  “Meaning he does not know the exact nature of the experiment,” Hoffman confirmed.

  “No,” Chesterton replied. “Connor doesn’t know what we. . . what they created in this infernal place. And there would probably be, uh, danger if he did discover what’s in there.”

  “What kind of danger?” Hoffman asked quickly, focusing.

  “Connor is a cautious man, Doctor. He does his job and does it well. But if Connor thinks that his men are being unnecessarily endangered he can be very, very hard to deal with.”

  An alarming silence settled.

  “Then you will, of course, ensure that Mr. Connor does not become concerned for the safety of his men,” Hoffman replied. “Something that will happen immediately if he somehow gets a look inside the Containment Cavern. We certainly ... no, no ... we certainly cannot afford a breach of security at this time.”

  Chesterton paused, spoke; “I think I can handle him, Doctor. I’ll just tell him that we overloaded the line and that should take care of it. And the fire doors of the Containment Cell are shut, so he can’t see what’s in there.”

  The old man nodded. “Good. Yes ... very, very good. And how long do you think it will take Mr. Connor to complete repairs?”

  “Connor knows his job, Doctor. But this won’t be easy. It’ll take him at least a couple of hours.”

  “Very well.” Hoffman was gazing at his smoldering pipe. “Then it is a risk we can tolerate.” He paused. “And now, Colonel, what other security precautions are we taking?”

  “I’ve ordered all vaults transferred to manual control,” Chesterton answered, jaw setting solidly. “I’ve stationed men at every exit of the Containment Cavern with LAW rockets and M-60s and they’ve got a standing green light to open up
with everything they’ve got if that thing even looks sideways at them. And,”—he turned to look at Frank—”I will not be allowing anyone to open any more fire doors for observation purposes.”

  “I can’t do that anyway, Chesterton,” Frank replied. “The heat blast melted the Plexiglas.”

  “What I’m saying here, Doctor,” Chesterton stressed, “is that no one is going to raise another fire door at the Containment Chamber. Not ever. Because we had a close call today and we got lucky. So as of right now, I’m rendering all further tests done by camera. We can’t risk that thing escaping. And tomorrow I’m contacting Washington for additional men and equipment to shore up the Containment Cavern. And I’m strongly suggesting that we maintain a holding pattern on further tests until adequate safety measures are installed.”

  Hoffman nodded. “Yes, Colonel, I agree. I agree wholeheartedly. We should postpone all further tests until we can guarantee the safety of our lives. We are at a critical stage.”

  With a dead-silent gaze that shifted as quickly as a hawk, Frank glanced to the only man who hadn’t contributed.

  Dressed in expensive casual clothes but carrying a pleasant air of cooperation, Operations Director Spenser Wayne Adler was reclined in his habitual position of customary, dispassionate concern. Frank expected the posture, had even grown somewhat seduced by it, just as everyone else. But he knew better than any of them how badly Adler wanted the project carried to completion. Knew just as well that the operations director would not allow anything to stand in the way of final testing.

  Although Adler was indisputably in charge of the underground facility, the project, and the Ice Station located on Grimwald Island above them, he wore his position without condescension. Yet he still seemed like a man who would always be in charge, no matter where he stood. Well into his sixties, Adler’s deep face revealed a keen and confident intellect. And even at his advanced age he seemed to retain a formidable physical strength. His hair was a dramatic white, making him seem lordly, even overpowering – a mesmerizing effect accented even more by his hypnotic, ice-blue eyes.

  In all, he held an imperial presence, the presence of a man who seemed genuinely born to both natural ability and station. But Frank suspected that Adler’s regal bearing may come as much from his superior attitude and six-foot-six height as anything else.

  Frank remembered that Adler had been a collegiate heavyweight boxing champion at Oxford in the early fifties. A real street fighter, someone had told him once, and Frank felt himself grimace at the thought. Somehow the knowledge always made him uncomfortable.

  “Well, I’m pleased that no one was killed in this incident,” Adler said in his deep, resonant voice. “It would have been a great ... a great tragedy if any lives had been lost. And we’ve certainly come too far to have this brilliant achievement marred.”

  Together they stared at him.

  Frank was as still as a statue, his face betraying nothing.

  “Soon, gentlemen,” Adler continued, “we will stun the scientific world. Because what we have accomplished in this cavern may very well have altered the nature of life as we know it. I commend you all. And that is the very reason why we must press on. Steadily and safely, to be sure, yes, but we must press on to our goal. Only two more tests remain to be done tomorrow and—”

  “Tomorrow?” interjected Chesterton. “Mr. Adler, I’m sorry if I didn’t make myself clear. I said we should delay. Let me restate it. I’m ordering a delay on all tests until we can guarantee that this creature can’t escape the Containment Cavern.”

  Adler raised a hand. “Yes, yes, Colonel. I know how you must feel. Especially after today. But we were all aware of the risks involved. And after careful consideration, I’ve decided that we must—”

  “Mister Adler,” Chesterton stressed, muscular forearms flexing without effort, “let me clarify something for you.”

  Adler stared, frowning.

  “There is no question that your company, Stygian Enterprises, owns this facility and funds this billion-dollar project,” Chesterton continued. “And it is not within the bounds of my authority, nor do I possess any desire, to terminate the experiment. But the United States Government—and I am the United States Government—is in absolute charge of security.” Chesterton paused, frowning. “Understand me, Mr. Adler. I am not a flexible man. My orders are not flexible. I am required to ensure that there is no penetration of this underground facility by hostile forces, that the personnel at this station are shielded from harm, and that this creature does not escape the Containment Chamber. I have three platoons of Rangers to achieve this objective and I will achieve it. But it is going to take at least two months to make adequate preparations. First, we have to cement all the corridors leading into the Containment Cavern. And my men aren’t qualified for that work. Connor and his civilian ground crew will have to do it.”

  Adler’s brow furrowed. “Cement?”

  “Yes, Mr. Adler, cement. That thing can melt steel. It might even be able to melt titanium. But it can’t melt cement. A nuclear weapon can’t even melt cement. Once that creature is safely sealed inside cement walls, this place will be secure again. Then you can run all the tests you want.”

  Frank felt a distance from the conversation. He watched the ceiling lights that had begun blinking more steadily. It seemed like the electrical system was slowly recovering from the shock wave.

  There was a silent conflict of wills until Adler finally nodded. “Very well, Colonel,” he submitted. “I recognize, and defer to, your ultimate authority in these matters. But once adequate safety measures have been completed, I will insist that we finish all tests.”

  Frank decided it was time. “I think there’s something else we need to consider, Mr. Adler.”

  A receptive smile. “Yes, Doctor?”

  “We’re entering a crucial stage with this creature that is obviously beyond predictability.” Frank didn’t blink as he spoke. “For example, this attack today was completely unexpected. This creature should never have done anything like this. An attack against the Containment Cell is completely outside its programming. So I think... I think that we should make a hard decision.”

  Adler’s brow lifted. “What kind of decision, Doctor?”

  “The data we’ve received from quantitative analyses are far beyond any anticipated results,” Frank said. “Our equipment isn’t even capable of measuring this kind of power. Even now, this thing’s physical speed is tenfold any projections. So let me stress, Mr. Adler: We are dealing with a very, very dangerous creature – a creature that is far more dangerous than anything that has ever lived. We don’t know its true potential. I don’t think it even knows its true potential. But it will. Because it’s neurally programmed to test itself more and more as it nears maturity. And as it begins to detect increases in its cybernet levels, it will begin searching for ways to expend the extra energy. And that is a significant threat.” Frank stared, took a breath. “With the creature’s newfound ability for projected combustion, combined with its rapidly increasing strength and speed and this unexplainable hostility against facility personnel, a tragedy could occur.”

  “What kind of tragedy, Doctor?”

  “The creature could escape,” Frank answered. “It might even become ... uncontrollable.”

  “And then, Doctor?”

  Frank waited, staring. He shifted, speaking with an almost frightening resignation. “I suppose that it would kill everything on Earth, Mr. Adler.”

  Adler seemed struck. “So,” he responded finally, “you are saying we should terminate the life of the creature?”

  “I’m saying, Mr. Adler, that the experiment is already a success,” Frank answered. “Those final tests were designed only to determine if the creature is strong enough to withstand heavy weapons fire and to see if it is smart enough to defeat humans in combat. But after what we saw today, I think that we all agree that it’s
capable of doing both.”

  “I disagree, Doctor.” Adler shook his head impatiently. “What the beast accomplished was impressive, yes, but it proved nothing. We do not yet know if it is strong enough to sustain heavy weapons fire. It has not yet been hit by heavy weapons fire. Nor, despite this creature’s great success at defeating holograph targets, can we prove that it is smart enough to defeat humans in combat. And these are two capabilities which must be, ah, undisputable before this experiment is labeled a success.”

  Frank was adamant. “Believe me, Mr. Adler, that creature is strong enough to survive anything. Even artillery fire. And it’s as smart as anything can get. It’s even smarter than us.” The scientist’s face tightened. “Sir, the only thing powerful enough to defeat this creature is a nuclear weapon. That’s something we need to get on the table. And that’s why we need to call this experiment off and label this a success before anybody else gets hurt.”

  “I concur,” Dr. Hoffman broke in, glaring from beneath bushy white eyebrows. “I believe the hour is upon us to terminate the project, Mr. Adler. It is clear that this creature has served its purpose, and that is the reasonable goal of any scientific endeavor. To allow this beast to live any longer would be acting irresponsibly. Lives are already at risk. But to continue will only invite a tragedy of colossal proportions.”

  Adler’s face was concentrated. “Gentlemen, I respect your joint opinions. But I must insist that we complete these final two tests. And we must complete them as quickly as possible. We need both videotape and computer analysis by GEO to document that this creature can survive an actual military attack from heavy weaponry and that it is tactically smart enough to defeat military combat units.” He paused, staring. “Let me remind you, gentlemen, that Stygian Enterprises has a substantial investment in this project. A billion-dollar investment. And a decision to terminate the life of the creature before the final two tests are completed and this system can be sold would be a very serious matter for the company.”