Terminal Freeze Read Online Free PDF Page A

That’s why it was built in the shadow of the only mountain for many miles around.”
    “How long since the base was active?”
    “A long time,” Marshall replied. “Almost fifty years.”
    “My God. So who maintains it? You know, keeps the toilets flushing, that sort of thing?”
    “It’s what the government calls a minimal maintenance installation. There’s a tiny detachment of soldiers here to keep things operational, three guys from the Army Corps of Engineers under the command of Gonzalez. That’s Sergeant Gonzalez. They maintain the generators and the electrical grid, cycle the heating systems, change lightbulbs, monitor the level of the water tanks. And at present, babysit us.”
    “Fifty years.” Ekberg shook her head. “Guess that’s why they don’t mind renting it out to us.”
    Marshall nodded.
    “Still, Uncle Sam isn’t exactly a cheap landlord. We’re paying $100,000 more just to house the documentary crew for a week.”
    “Cost of living is high up here,” said Sully.
    Ekberg looked around again. “The soldiers have to
stay
here?”
    “They get rotated out every six months. At least, the three grunts do. The sergeant, Gonzalez-he seems to like it.”
    Ekberg shook her head. “Now there’s a man who clearly values his privacy.”
    They stepped past the heavy outer doors, through a staging area, down a long weather chamber-lined on both sides with lockers for parkas and snow gear-and then through another set of doors into the base itself. Although Fear Base hadn’t been active for half a century, the military atmosphere remained strong: American flags, steel walls, utilitarian features. Fading posters on the walls listed standing orders and warned against security breaches. A wide corridor ran left and right from the entrance plaza, quickly fading into obscurity: the immediate area was well lit, but the more distant regions contained just the occasional oasis of light. On the far side of the plaza, a man in military uniform sat behind a glass panel, reading a paperback.
    Marshall noticed Ekberg’s nose wrinkling. “Sorry about that,” he said with a laugh. “Took me about a week to get used to the smell, too. Who’d have thought an arctic base would smell like a battleship’s bilge? Come on, let’s get you signed in.”
    They walked across the plaza to the glass window. “Tad,” Marshall said by way of greeting.
    The man behind the panel nodded back. He was tall and youthful, with a buzz cut of carrot-colored hair. He wore the stripe of a private in the engineers’ corps. “Dr. Marshall.”
    “This is Kari Ekberg, here in advance of the rest of the documentary team.” Marshall turned to Ekberg. “Tad Phillips.”
    Phillips looked the woman over with ill-concealed interest. “We got the word just this morning. Ms. Ekberg, if you’ll sign in, please?” He passed a clipboard out through a slot at the base of the glass panel.
    She signed on the indicated line and passed it back. Phillips noted the time and date, then put the clipboard aside. “You’ll give her the orientation, explain the cleared areas?”
    “Sure thing,” Marshall said.
    Phillips nodded and-after another glance at Ekberg-returned his gaze to the book he’d been reading. Sully led the way to a nearby stairwell and the group began to descend.
    “At least it’s warm in here,” Ekberg said.
    “The upper levels, anyway,” Sully replied. “The rest is reduced to maintenance only.”
    “What did he mean about cleared areas?” she asked.
    “This central, five-level section of the base is where the officers lived and much of the monitoring went on,” Marshall said. “We’ve got full access to that-not that any of us have had the time or inclination to do much exploring. We have limited access to the southern wing, where most of the computers and other equipment was stored and maintained. The enlisted men live there; we have clearance to the upper levels. We’re not authorized to enter the northern