“You used cyberspace functions in GEO to remove the locus that produces a-calcium calmodulin kinase, the chemical which would have allowed Leviathan to recognize fear, and in this way made it into a creature without any fear whatsoever. Only a cold and calculating instinct to kill. Then you neurally encoded tactical and strategic military data directly onto its cerebellum, which was in turn inlaid at ten weeks of age.
“Then, in one of your most remarkable alterations, you increased brain synapse current levels until Leviathan’s mind speed was at least five times faster than a human’s. Also, the creature’s newly generated brain cells, cells which have no memory at all, are continuously overlaid with an electronic echo-pulse from the chip which gives them instant memory. That is how Leviathan can never forget the Hunter-killer Mode or any of its tactical knowledge.” He paused. “I applaud you, Doctor. You deserve it.”
Frank was unimpressed. He didn’t need accolades.
“You’re pretty caught up on the creation process, Mr. Adler,” he said slowly. “Can you tell me how Leviathan developed the rest of its altered weapons system? Including the ability to generate an inhibitor and catalyst to cause combustion?”
“No,” Adler replied, a slight laugh. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Because Leviathan is innately polyploidal in its genetic makeup, Mr. Adler.”
The old man said nothing, waiting.
“Meaning,” Frank continued, “that we discovered late in the process that Leviathan had more than the usual number of chromosomes for a Komodo dragon. A great many more chromosomes, actually. Some of which we still can’t identify. They don’t match the molecular encoding of any identified vertebrate. And their unexpected structure created unexpected mutation.”
Confusion registered on Adler’s severe face. “Exactly what kind of chromosomal structure are we discussing, doctor?”
Tired, Frank shook his head. “I don’t know. I determined that it was just some kind of recessive genetic pattern remembered and made dominant by the chromatic manipulation process waves. Some kind of genetic code that nature somehow piggybacked inside random members of this species for thousands of years. It was deeply submerged but it survived in the chromosomal makeup of the Komodo dragon. And the electromagnetic manipulation didn’t actually alter this particular dragon’s chromosomal makeup as much as it ignited the rapid development of this unidentified, recessive genetic code.”
Adler’s interest spiked. “Thus the explanation for why you renamed the project ‘Leviathan’ at the fifth week of development?” he asked, keenly alert.
Dismal, Frank nodded.
“So ... a biblical reference,” Adler smiled. It was not a question, and his expression made it clear that there was no need for an answer. Yes, the smile said, I know of these things. I am not an ignorant man.
A lengthy pause and Frank nodded, simply to end the conversation. He had long ago passed the point where he wanted to leave. And the overbearing Adler finally granted his wish. He rose.
“I congratulate you on your success, Doctor,” he said. “You have reached a great achievement. And truly, there is no immediate foretelling where your research will lead. You may very well have changed the world as we know it.” Without effort he shifted into his paternal mode. “Yes, Electromagnetic Chromosomal Manipulation may herald the dawn of a new and superior life-form on the earth. In the near future it may be used to alter living organisms so that they cannot age, cannot die. It may cure cancer. Or eliminate an entire host of crippling genetic disorders.”
With tired, dead eyes, Frank focused on the director.
“Or make living weapons of war,” he said flatly.
***
Connor wiped sweat from a dirt-grimed brow as Chesterton led him along the steel walkway. Exhausted, he was irritable and hot and still frustrated by the secret atmosphere of the Observation Room. But now the job was done, and Chesterton was leading him back toward the elevator shaft.
Moving for some irrational reason in the same bizarre silence they had maintained in the Observation Room, they passed the cavern’s Command Center. But as they neared the doorway two men walked out of the portal, shadowed in darkness.
Connor instantly recognized one of them as the young, hotshot scientist who was supposedly running the project, Peter Frank. He didn’t know the older man, but his words immediately reached Connor.
“Leviathan will be tested when—”
“Hey!” Chesterton yelled, glaring. The two men turned abruptly, and Chesterton turned to Connor, then back to the older man.
Connor stepped into the middle of the walkway, sensing the seriousness of the situation and moved by some primal impulse to hold his own ground. He evenly held the older man’s gaze.
A silent moment passed, Connor watching them all, waiting for them to make the first move. Then, slowly, the older man walked forward, holding Connor’s gaze until he stood fully in the walkway, blocking the path. Connor estimated the white-haired man was at least six inches taller and very obviously in charge. There was something faintly ominous about how he barred the walkway.
“What did you hear, Mr. Connor?” he asked, supremely confident.
Sullen, Connor lowered his gaze, momentarily looking past the man to see Peter Frank standing in the doorway, mouth open, hands hanging limp at his sides. He seemed afraid. And Chesterton was stoic, accustomed to the sight of men throwing their weight in the paths of others. But Connor also saw a poised readiness in Chesterton’s stance, as if he thought he might have to physically intervene.
Connor looked up. But this wasn’t his place and he didn’t want any part of it. Without blinking he held the mesmerizing gaze of the older man as he spoke. He didn’t bother to make his voice friendly.
“I didn’t hear anything at all.”
“No,” the old man smiled, teeth gleaming, as if the answer had never been in doubt. “Of course you didn’t.”
Chapter 6
Bellowing and piled atop with a dozen burly workmen, Thor momentarily staggered on the crest of the hill. With one arm pinned by four men and another two-hundred-pound wrestler perched on his shoulders, the giant Norseman struggled ferociously to hold his ground.
A dozen men heaved together, pushed against him, over a ton of hardened muscle straining violently to knock Thor off balance, to topple him from the top of the low hill.
Laughing manically, face as red as his wild red beard, Thor crouched to plant his booted feet in place. Then, reaching down with a tree-trunk arm, he began peeling his attackers off like children or pulling them forward over his shoulders to hurl them down the tundra-mound where they would slide to a muddy halt only to launch themselves up the hill again, sweating and smiling, to rejoin the fray.
Connor heard the commotion as he stepped off the elevator, instantly smiling. Catching the spirit of the contest, he moved around the side of the facility to see Thor, a solid and unshaken King of the Hill, holding off his challengers who were mostly airborne or straining without effect to overcome his stance. Loud bets and cheers were cast from a divided crowd.
“C’mon, Thor!” someone yelled. “Just ten more seconds!”
Struck by the voice, Connor looked into the crowd and saw Beth enthusiastically clutching a fistful of money and laughing as she called out the last seconds. His son, Jordan, was jumping up and down, cheering.
“Five! ... Four! ... Three!”
Thor roared and laughed, effortlessly lifting a behemoth electrical worker, Tom Blankenship, high over his head. Framed by the midnight sun, his titanic arms extended to hold Blankenship aloft, Thor commanded the mound like a fortress, his lower body submerged in bodies and arms and legs that seemed to be straining against solid granite, a mountain. Connor winced as he saw Blankenship’s uplifted, fear-stricken bearded face, the wide eyes staring down the hill where he would be hurled as ... “Two!... One! . . . It’s over! It’s
over!” Beth screamed, joining Jordan in jumping up and down. “Thor won! He won! He beat all of you!”
Atop the hill, bodies instantly fell away, slumping over the tundra. Some of the attackers rolled onto their backs, holding their hearts, staring in a daze at the sky. Connor saw Thor lift his bearded face, laughing at the still terrified Blankenship who might even yet be airborne down the hill. Then with a mirthful grin that made his white teeth gleam, Thor suddenly set Blankenship back on his feet.
Connor laughed as Thor enthusiastically clapped Blankenship’s massive arm, towering a full head and shoulders taller even than the enormous construction worker, apparently congratulating. But Connor couldn’t hear their words because of the joyous riot erupting among the winners.
“We won! We won!” Beth was repeating over and over again, hugging Jordan who jumped gleefully up and down, clapping his hands. Several others, apparently those who had put money on Thor, were all hugging each other. Amused, Connor began to wonder just how much money had been wagered on the match.
With a smile he walked forward and Beth saw him, smiling back with delight. “Hey, babe,” she laughed. “We won!” She lifted Jordan to his feet. “Tell Daddy how much money we won!”
Jordan grabbed the money, too many one-dollar bills to hold in his four-year-old hand. “Daddy! We won!” he laughed, his face alight with sheer joy. His light brown hair was tousled.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Connor smiled. He walked up to lift the boy from Beth’s arms. “How you doing, buddy?” he asked. “Are you having a good time today?”
“Yeah,” Jordan smiled, hugging Connor’s neck for a long, hard moment before he leaned back. “And me and Mommy just won a bunch of money!”
Connor grinned and delivered a light kiss to Beth. Maybe it was Beth’s joy or maybe it was the red-glowing sun, but whatever he had brought from the cavern fell away at her smile. And Connor realized, with Beth’s slim figure silhouetted against the red midnight sun, how truly beautiful she was. Even without makeup, with her hair uncombed and windblown, she was still striking. Her dark Italian eyes and olive skin were from her distant heritage, and her thick, brown hair fell beneath her shoulders. Her face and neck were strong and smooth, her body still as strong and toned as when they married ten years ago. She was wearing faded blue jeans, a pair of black boots, and a red and black checkered lumberjack shirt.
Connor leaned forward, examining the money in Jordan’s hand, looked again. “So, uh, how much did we win?”
Beth’s face twisted, satisfied. Then she laughed and made a fist, whooped a football cheer. “Fifty dollars! Yes, yes, yes! Right, Jordan?”
“Yes! Fifty dollars!” the boy laughed, smiling into Connor’s face. Connor was suddenly inspired to hold his son closer as defeated betters shambled past, returning to their jobs. Then Thor towered at the base of the hill and Connor turned to him.
The gigantic Norseman was literally covered in mud, his leather jacket and pants plastered where tundra-soiled arms and hands had strained to upset his unshakable stand.
Thor’s sleeveless arms were unbelievably muscular and huge, stout pillars of granite-hard strength that fell from the sides of a gigantic barrel chest. He seemed even more enormous than usual. Sweat dripped from his face, still red from the strain. He was smiling hugely.
Connor knew Thor had met the challenge for mere sport, to provide some slight excitement to the lives of the families working at the township. Just as Connor knew that the victory, or even a defeat if it had come, meant nothing to the good-natured giant.
“They almost had you there for a moment,” Connor said somberly, gazing up at the red-bearded face.
Thor scowled. “Eh?”
“Oh, Connor,” Beth laughed as she took Jordan from his arms.
“Yeah. I saw it clear as day,” Connor continued, shaking his head compassionately. “That was close, boy. They just about sent you down that hill like a big ol’ fat dogsled on greased lightning. Good thing they didn’t succeed, huh?”
A narrow smile had crept across Thor’s face.
“Yes ...” he rumbled. “Yes, now that you say it, I perceive that my great strength is almost gone. Gone to exhaustion. It is a good thing ... you have a refrigerator.”
Connor looked up sharply. “What?”
Beth laughed more loudly as she turned to the house.
***
“Leviathan sleeps until we cement the corridors leading out of the Containment Chamber,” Frank said, signing a clipboard. “Just make sure that the nitrogen level in the Containment Chamber remains at one hundred percent!”
Because the nervous instruction wasn’t given to anyone in particular, everyone stared.
Frank felt the concentration, just as he had felt it so often of late. It was a gathering of frightful, accusing glares. “Just making sure that everyone knows,” he smiled casually, feeling the force of the focus.
No one moved.
Frank lifted a hand. “Look, I want everybody to relax. You all know that it’s not going to wake up until we give it oxygen. And even then, we’re only going to give it just enough to move around. It will barely be able to walk, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
After a moment, everyone turned to their work.
Shaking his head, Frank turned away, focusing on Dr. Hoffman. The old man appeared to be suffering a grave loss of energy. He held a cold pipe in a stiff hand. But he seemed to feel Frank’s attention, looking up from a computer monitor.
“You are certain that the creature must have a high oxygen atmosphere to ignite the carpasioxyllelene, Peter?”
“Yeah, Dr. Hoffman, I’m certain. It’ll sleep until we give it a little air. It’s not going to be attacking the cell.” Hoffman’s eyes were vacuous behind his glasses. He turned back to stare at the monitor.
At the far end of the cavern a dark, solidly coiled mass lay unmoving, thick armor plates overlapping so tightly that not even air could pass between the seals. Even in sleep, it appeared deadly. There were no vital areas of the body exposed, and there was no breathing, no movement. Vaguely, Frank could see ominous, fog like vapors created by its superheated body temperature rising from the stone floor, hovering like a death shroud.
“We should not continue,” Hoffman said flatly.
Clearly, he had determined that the experiment had run its course and that they had reached the point where both sanity and professional responsibility required them to terminate it. Frank didn’t reply. He knew that Adler would continue the experiment with or without them. And danger levels were too high to risk Adler flying in new scientists—pompous yes-heads with no idea of the creature’s true potential—to run the program.
Hoffman continued, “Perhaps we will not be able to perform the tests, anyway. Perhaps the explosion this morning injured the creature. Perhaps it is even dying.”
“I don’t think so, Doctor.”
Hoffman looked up. “But how can you be certain, Peter? That was a tremendous explosion! How can we be certain that the beast is not injured, or even dying, from the trauma?”
Frank placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder. Then he slowly lifted a jet-black wireless headset from the countertop, placing it over his head as lab workers scurried past, moving in new equipment.
“GEO, identify my voice,” he spoke softly into the headset.
He paused before continuing. “Yes, it’s Dr. Frank. I want you to switch to the intercom system for reply.”
A split second later the computer’s eerily soft, impersonal voice came over the speaker, a screened black circle built into the wall. Wired directly into the next generation neural net dual-multiprocessor, the speakers were located throughout the entire cavern for alarms, paging, or for Frank’s vocal communication with GEO.
“Affirmative. Communicating through intercom system.”
Frank met Hoffman’s gaze. The old d
octor’s lip trembled slightly as Frank spoke. “GEO, give me the current physiological stats on Leviathan.”
“Leviathan maintains heart rate of five beats per minute. Respiration remains at zero. Internal temperature remains constant at 400 degrees and mitosis is locked in bio feed loop on outer armor epidermis.”
Hoffman looked down, a slight shudder going through his chest. Frank continued, speaking into the headset. “GEO, what is your evaluation of Leviathan’s condition?’’
“Leviathan has initiated Hibernation Sequence.”
“Why?”
“Leviathan has determined that cavern atmosphere contains high probability death factor. Leviathan will continue Hibernation Sequence until atmosphere is no longer poisonous.”
“And what will be Leviathan’s actions on termination of the Hibernation Sequence?”
“Leviathan will begin altering physiological demands for oxygen and will begin kinetic energy release process. It will also begin contracting muscular areas of mouth and throat to prime expulsion of flammable gel. Leviathan will increase epinephrine level and begin contraction of muscle ligatures to enhance physical strength by 25 percent. Then Leviathan will initiate thermal sensors according to neural program parameters.”
A disturbing thought passed like a ghost across some instinctive recess of Frank’s mind as the computer replied. Slowly standing erect, he stared at the titanium fire door, following the dim impression, wondering why it had taken him so long to make the connection.
“GEO,” he began quietly, “why did Leviathan attack the Observation Room this morning?’’
“Insufficient data exists to answer that question.”
Frank had anticipated that. “GEO, do you think Leviathan was attempting reconstitution when it attacked the Observation Room this morning?”
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