Tesla's Signal (32 page)

“Oh, stop already!” She covered her ears. “We talked about this before. I'm staying with you, Nikola, 'cause where else would I have such exciting adventures! Electric sparks, talking pigeons, high-speed flivver rides! It's just like being in the films.”

He saw a grin at the corner of her lips, and couldn't resist answering it with one of his own.

***

“I know where we can go.” Niko took a card out of his pocket. “State College, Pennsylvania.”

“What? Where the heck is that?”

“It's where Professor Norman Davidson teaches, at Penn State College. I met him at the Engineers' Club. He told me that if I was ever in Central Pennsylvania, I should come and lecture.”

“But that's awfully far away. How are we going to set up a lab? Everything we need is back in New York.”

“Yes, our death is in New York too. I'll feel much safer when I'm 200 miles away from lynch mobs and Martian death rays.”

They crossed the Delaware River and entered Pennsylvania, a land of wild forests and mountains. Yet these mountains were unlike the jagged ice peaks of Colorado: Central Pennsylvania was a land of long gentle ridges arrayed in ranks one after the other, stretching away to the horizon. They appeared sheltering and nurturing, like the bodies of sleeping mothers, covered in green forest.

“Look, there's Route 333,” Niko said. “We'll take that.”

“Come on, Niko, we don't have time for your Number Three obsession right now...”

Too late. The Roadster had already crossed the bridge and turned off onto a one-lane gravel road. This route hugged the steep side of Tuscarora Mountain, following the line of the railroad tracks and the Juniata River.

“Where the devil are we?” Clara remarked, as they made their way over one forested ridge top, down the valley and up the next. In some places, grass had grown between the wheel ruts. The last horse-droppings looked old and dried.  

“See, Clara? It's perfect. Nobody's been here in weeks.”

“Well at least our enemies will be lost too,” Clara said.

“Yes, this is just what we needed...some peace and quiet.”

They passed an occasional farm or tiny town with its white-steepled church, making sure to drop their speed first so as not to attract attention. Around here, the sight of an automobile was a novelty. Niko would bet money that these towns had never heard of electricity either.

“These mountains must have tremendous magnetic properties,” Clara realized, after passing towns called “Iron Foundry” and “Magnetite”.

“You're right. We'll find the highest one and put a magnifying transmitter on top. Wind turbines, too.”

So saying, they made their way up the mighty Seven Mountains range and descended to Nittany Valley, where cows grazed peacefully in emerald-green pastures. Horse-drawn wagons poked along, loaded with produce. The troubles of New York City seemed a million miles away.

If the Martians did conquer Earth, Niko reflected, these people's lives would probably change very little. Unless the Martians decided to set up a Silver Chamber in one of these little country churches, knock Christ off the altar, and force everyone to worship them.

Then again, surely the aliens wanted more out of Earth than worship. If he could only remember his experience, he'd know more about what humanity was up against. But no...Niko did not want to remember, and relive, whatever the Martians had done to him.

The town of State College consisted of a serene, leafy campus, a main street and one hotel, the College Inn. “Well, I guess this is our stop.”

Niko signed the hotel register as 'Mr. and Mrs. Nick Slate.' They then took Room 33, which contained two chaste twin beds. Once they got settled, Niko brought out his violet-ray electrostim device and ran the healing current over Clara's poor, injured foot. It seemed to relieve a lot of her pain.

After that, he ran a few jolts over himself.  

***

“I'm so glad you could come,” said silver-haired Professor Norman Davidson, when they called on him just after dinnertime. “Care for some brandy?”

“Thank you, I believe I will.” Niko accepted the glass. “Sir, I'd like to introduce my
colleague,
Miss Clara Eps.” He emphasized the word
colleague
. People were constantly getting the wrong impression about him and Clara.

Davidson blinked. “Oh, my.
You're
an engineer too, Ma'am? Why, I'm charmed to meet you.”

“Dr. Davidson, I regret I cannot fulfill my promise to give a lecture,” Niko said. “In fact, I would prefer not to be seen by anyone.”

Professor Davidson gave Niko a pat on the shoulder. “I suppose not. I did see a copy of the
New York Times
yesterday. Don't worry,” he added, “I don't believe one word they print in that sensationalist rag. Now, allow me to show you our laboratory facilities.”

The professor took them through a tree-lined commons, surrounded by marble lecture halls. Nearby, the Old Main clock tower chimed the hour. Behind the Library, they reached a large brick building that made Niko feel as if he had truly come home.

“Here's the engineering lab. See? We're not so backward here. An alternating current generator, powered by the coal plant next door. Some of your coils and oscillators, and enough material and equipment for you to build more, lots and lots more. Of course, there will be a price,” he added, winking with gentle humor.

Clara spoke up. “I'll get the money, sir. I'll give a musical concert—”

The Professor waved a hand, cutting her off. “I don't mean money, miss. The price is that when you build your electrical marvels, you give me a demonstration.”

“Of course.” Niko smiled. “But this will be far beyond a simple lab demo. We need to build a transmitter, and weapons...” he stopped himself. “Before I go any farther, please be honest: do you believe what I said in my speech at the Engineers' Club? About...the invaders from space?”

“I'm not sure, but...” Davidson hesitated. “Some strange things have been happening. You said these Martians might be controlling minds. Well...a few months ago my daughter Lorraine went to New York City to begin a modeling career. Last week I received a strange letter from her.”

He took the letter out of his pocket and read:
“'Dear Father, I have entered the service of glorious Angelic beings who have come to rescue the human race from all its troubles
.
Please come to New York so you can join with the Angels too'.”
 

At these words Niko felt an intense chill.

“Lorraine was a fun-loving girl who cared only for dancing and parties. She would never have thought of entering a church in her life. When I saw this letter, I knew that something strange had happened to her. Even the handwriting doesn't look right! Look at it...it's like a 5-year old child's.” He held out the paper, covered with uneven scrawls.

“Oh, and the other day,” he continued, “I heard from one of my colleagues at Cornell. One of the physics graduates has been building a wireless receiver. He picked up a strange message a few days ago... a warning about something called the
Silver Chamber
. Where do you suppose that message came from?”
 

“By God, it worked,” Niko murmured. “I risked my life climbing to the top of a bridge to send that message.”

“Oh, stop, Niko.” Clara pointed a finger. “You were having the time of your life. You may have a few strange phobias, but fear of heights isn't one of them.”

Davidson snickered. “That was
your
signal, eh? My colleague didn't know if it was a joke or not, but he decided to boost the signal and send it on to various other locations.”

“Excellent. At least now people will be warned,” Niko murmured. “Like an inoculation against a disease. And you should keep spreading the message, any way you can.”

Clara spoke up. “All right, Professor, back to the question: can we prove that the invaders are from another world?” She reached into her purse, took out a wrapped bundle and laid it on the laboratory table. “I'd like you to examine this.” She carefully unwrapped it, revealing a fragment of a peculiar iridescent material.

At the sight of it, Niko cried out and covered his eyes. “Clara! What did you—get rid of that at once!” He began to shake all over.

“Calm down, Niko, there's no Martians here.” Clara put out a comforting hand.  

“Come, sir...relax.” The Professor had to sit him down and give him another sip of brandy.

Clara turned to the Professor. “Perhaps you should keep this and examine it. See if you can determine its composition. We'll come back tomorrow.”

“But what is it, Miss Eps?”

She spoke in a whisper. “A piece of an alien device.”

Niko turned on her as they left the building. “Miss Clara! Why did you pick that filthy thing up? It could be extremely dangerous—they could be using it to trace us!”

“Come now. I can tell it's inactive. I can't feel any vibrations coming from it.”

“You are recklessly endangering us! How do we know they're not
controlling us?”

“Don't be ridiculous! If they were, we'd be running back to them by now.” She stared him in the eye. “I took it so we could study it, and maybe learn to neutralize—”

“I didn't ask you to do that. You went behind my back!”

“Nikola! I don't have to ask your
permission!
You're not my boss!”

“Of course not. Forgive me,” he said, in a voice that dripped icicles. And he maintained a frozen silence until he dropped her off at the hotel. “I have to take a walk,” he said, stalking away.

“Be sure to walk around the block 33 times,” she said to his retreating back.

In the hotel room, Clara sat down and rubbed her aching foot. You did not want Nikola angry at you. He didn't hit you or smash things. He just turned that piercing stare on a person, with the intensity of a thousand volts.

***

Void Stalker

The human liaison room aboard
Void Stalker
had been refitted to resemble an important man's office, with plush lounge chairs and dark-paneled walls. A group of men sat around a highly polished table, waiting for the meeting to start.

A large, broad shouldered banking magnate lit a cigar. A few other tycoons flanked him. Several prominent grandees in tweed suits sat sipping their cocktails. One man wore the uniform of a highly decorated military officer.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Miss Shelia entered, her stiletto heels clicking on the floor. She wore a white sheath dress covered with sequins, and her huge feathery hat boasted many more of the sparkling decorations.

“Ah, Miss Shelia.” At the sight of their beautiful new boss, their expressions brightened.

“Fellows, let's go over your orders.” She strutted about, giving them all a view of her derrière, and handed out packets of paper. “Mr. Morgan, you are to make sure all the political bigwigs—mayors, governors, law
enforcement—come aboard with our organization. All of the newspapermen too. Invite 'em for a big society bash and I'll do the rest. There's a good fellow,” she said, patting his shoulder and giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Glad to be of service, honey.” Morgan smiled around his cigar.

“Major General Whitcomb.” She turned to the military man. “The
Angels want a map of all the military bases, and a listing of all the country's armaments. See to it!”

“Anything you say, dollface.”

Next she leaned over a man in a striped suit, allowing him a view of her deep cleavage. “Senator Myers, get hold of the President! We'll run a Silver Chamber at the next session of Congress. Gosh, look at me!” she hugged herself. “I started off as a two-bit roadhouse floozy, and now look at me—entertaining the President himself!” Shelia broke off, remembering where she was.

“All right, enough chit-chat. All of you listen,” she addressed the group. “You all know the most important assignment.” Suddenly she turned and pounded the table. It was as if a switch had been thrown: her seductive charm turned to fury. “Find our greatest enemy—
Nikola Tesla!”
Her red lips parted in snarling rage; her mascara'ed eyes radiated a predatory fire. “This villain is trying to bring down our whole organization! He is to be taken dead or alive!”

The gentlemen quailed at her intensity. She seemed to have become a different person. “We want this arch-criminal, and all of his nefarious devices and weapons,
now
. What in the hell is wrong with your enforcers?” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “They can't find one tall, dark, foreign-looking guy who's handsome as the devil's son, and just as wicked? Have them pick up every foreigner who even
looks
like him! Is that understood, gentlemen?”

When all of the new Angel Servants had gone, V'kaan spoke to Shelia.

“Are you sure all of those humans are trustworthy? How do you know one of them won't go rogue, as Tes'laa did?”