Tesla's Signal (62 page)

“
Vei iz mir.
They're like...walking dead.” Jake tried to stop one woman. “Look here, Miss, where are you—”

She slapped his hand away and kept walking as if she hadn't even seen him.

“C'mon, kid, you don't wanna go with these crazies—” Jake grabbed a young boy. The child flailed and struggled, but his face never registered the slightest awareness. None of the people walked with anyone else. Toddlers barely able to walk were left to stumble along, just as blank as their elders. None of the children cried.

Clara grabbed his arm. “Come on, Jake, just leave them be.”

As the three soldiers in Tesla's Army got closer to Grand Central Terminal, they saw that the skies above swarmed with U'jaan ships like moths around a lamp. The largest ship began to descend and a most unexpected thing happened: the electric lights suddenly went on all around them. For several surrounding blocks, the street went from blackness to glorious light. A collective gasp arose from the crowd. The sudden light had a rousing effect on these people. They began to respond, jumping up and down and cheering.

“Attention, attention!” cried Shelia. “Rejoice! The Angels have come for you! Come to Grand Central Terminal! Hurry—don't be left behind!” The earsplitting voice echoed from the buildings. “You will be gathered for a great journey to the Angels' heavenly Abode, where you will know the ultimate bliss of one-ness with your Angel Masters!”  

A hover platform emerged from the ship. Several Angels stood there with limbs and winglets spread out, posturing before their worshipers like the Pope before the faithful. At the sight of their overlords, these benumbed people broke into a frenzy and began to stampede toward the Terminal.

At a sudden push from the mob, Niko lost his hold on Clara and they were swept apart. “Niko!” Clara cried, as the mob carried her away.

“Clara! Jake,” he called, but his voice was swallowed up in the mob frenzy. Panicked, he realized he had to take shelter or he'd be swept off with the rest of them. He managed to stumble to the side of the street and duck into a barbershop. He stepped inside, avoiding smashed shelves and bottles of pomade and mustache wax, and tried the signal watch. “Clara, are you there? Clara!”

But there was no reply—not a single signal could get through. Terror seized him.
I've lost Clara and Jake
.
Now what?
Trying to navigate through that mob was like trying to swim against Niagara.
Dear Lord, what kind of madness is that Orb sending out?
Niko could feel its power beating against his own brain...it seemed to exceed all of the others combined.. His fingers tightened around the wave rifle.
It must be located and destroyed...before it sucks the soul out of us all, like water down a drain.
 

The only safe place was back down in the tunnels. He pushed his way through the edge of the crowd until he spotted a subway entrance at 38th and Park Avenue. Gratefully he stumbled down the steps to the station and hunched over, catching his breath while he considered his next move.

If he continued through this tunnel he would end up somewhere in the bowels of the Grand Central Terminal, just a  a few blocks away. Niko knew that place: it was a massive hub for trains from all parts of the state. He had taken trains from here to Pittsburgh, in his days with Westinghouse. Now he ran through the tunnel, energized by his hatred of the Angels. Somehow he would find Clara and Jake...and they would stop these inhuman monsters.

Before long he emerged to a lower level of the Grand Central Terminal and found his way along the concourse. The whole place was lit up now, the tile floors gleaming. Chanting disciples rushed past him, completely oblivious.

He felt for the wave rifle in his jacket.

At the top of a marble staircase, he approached the main concourse: a vast hall overlooked by balconies and flanked by granite columns and tremendous arched windows. Beaux arts statues and deco lamps stood at the ends of the great mahogany benches.

Niko remembered a giant chandelier hanging from the arched roof. Today, it had been replaced by a massive glowing Orb.
There it is.
 

Always the place teemed with humanity—but today people were packed so tightly one could barely move. Always the crowds had hurried back and forth while announcers called out train departures. Today the people just waited, immobile, for their Masters' commands. Only one recorded message played, over and over. “Attention please. Keep silent and wait until you are summoned. Please wait to be taken into the Ship of Glory.”

And there they stood, waiting to be kidnapped, taken away,
harvested
.

Niko climbed on the pedestal of a massive column to get a better view. At the far edges of the crowd, a few Angels herded groups of people out with large neural wands. Taking them out to that big cargo ship outside, which he could see through the window.
Only a few Masters for so many people!

But no sign of Clara or Jake.

Niko took a deep breath and spoke softly. “No. People, you are not going to Mars. You are about to be freed from bondage.” Hiding behind the column, he pointed the wave rifle upward and closed a contact.

The weapon began to charge up, spiraling the resonant waveshapes to a razor sharp point: almost as destructive as the Teleforce ray. His fingers closed around the trigger mechanism and he took careful aim. “Angels, prepare to be sent to Hell.”
One, two three. Fire!

The concentrated waves struck the Orb. Molecules rapidly heated and the material expanded. With a loud boom and a massive shower of sparks, the Orb shattered.

“Run for your freedom,” Niko cried. His voice echoed in the vast chamber.
“Run!”
 

A woman screamed. The people began to stir. Slowly they awoke and shook off the hypnosis that had held them paralyzed. “Monsters,” someone yelled, seeing the U'jaan. Others took up the cry. “Monsters! Run for your life!” The fear quickly spread.

Niko aimed another blast and punched a big escape hole in one of the windows. The glass shattered and the people began to climb out. As they did so, they left a space around Niko and there he stood exposed: the electric liberator, standing alone against the invaders. “Run,” he cried, “run from the Martian invaders! They want to eat you! Fight for your freedom!” 

And he leaped up on a marble capstone above the crowd where he could get a better shot at the U'jaan with their neural wands. “Take that, K'vaan, or D'jaan, or whatever your names are!” He fired once, twice, thrice, and more. Down they went. “Go back to Mars! Burn in Hell!”

He felt such glee, and such glorious joy, that he was completely taken by surprise when something heavy fell on him from above. The wave rifle was knocked from his hands. A net of metallic cords closed around him,  yanked him off his feet and pulled him upward.

“Bože moi!  
Help!” he cried, struggling against the constricting cords, but there was no rescuer in sight.

Bagged—like a wild jungle beast!

He hung upside-down as the net hoisted him up to the upper balcony. A man worked the winch, bringing him in and dumping him on the floor in the midst of several U'jaan. The aliens stood twitching with impatience, waiting to collect their prize.

“Hello, Nick,” said Thomas Edison. “So nice of you to accept our dinner invitation.”

Invitation!
Niko cursed himself. Shelia's broadcast had been
bait,
to lure him in. He should have realized: the Angels did not need a
broadcas
t to bring their slaves to them.

“Traitorous bastard,” Niko spat out. “It figures you'd sell out the human race for your own selfish gain.”

“Now, now. I'm just a realist, that's all. Smart enough to pick the winning side.”

Edison clipped a few of the cords and reached through to search his captive. “Ah! Knew I'd find a few clever toys on you. Think you're so smart, don't you,” he said, holding up an induction gun, emergency band and radio watch. “Sorry, no signaling to your mechanical daddy this time.”

Laughing, Edison crushed the watch underfoot.

“It doesn't matter what your masters do to me,” said Niko. “I have taught everyone all they need to know to throw your Martian friends off this world.”

“Hm! Always the braggart. Head's in the clouds as usual,” Edison sneered, while cutting a bit more of the net to expose Niko's face. “Too blind to see that most of these inferior classes of people will be better off under Angel rule.”

The Martians moved in closer, their neural wands ready.

“He's all yours, Masters,” said Edison. “I told you I could solve your Tesla problem. A little American ingenuity, that's all it took.”

When they saw their quarry immobilized and helpless, two of the U'jaan found the courage to approach. They took off their masks, bent over him and grasped his face and neck with their claws.

In that one moment of supreme terror Niko absorbed more of their alien nature than he ever had on the ship. He could feel their sticky fluids on him, and smell their sharp, pungent odor.

For the first time, he got a clear look at their faces: the sharp ridge, running from the forehead to the crown. Their greenish-gray skin, covered with tiny hairlike projections...their eyes, looking like small versions of the hypnotic Orbs. His gut roiled with horror,
but he could not look away. They had no nose or mouth; merely a moist, oozing hole in the center of the face. On either side, membranes throbbed in apparent speech, which Niko sensed as a low vibration at the very edge of hearing.
Ultra low frequency.

Edison clasped his hands over his belly. “Nick, my Masters K'viin and Z'duun have been looking forward to the pleasure of consuming your vital essence...your
soul,
if you will. They're going to give you maximum punishment for all the trouble you caused them. Go ahead and beg for mercy; they'll find that entertaining.” Smirking, he leaned closer for a better view.

Another of the aliens came up, waving limbs as if in a state of great agitation, and pushed the first two aside. The newcomer was missing an eye and the skin around the socket appeared scarred. Ferocious sounds like grinding gravel emanated from the alien's speech membranes.

“Mistress V'kaan here was injured in your first attack,” said Edison. “Says you cost her an eye. Says she deserves the first devouring of you. Says she'll reach deep inside and rip you to shreds—and she promises to make you suffer as much as possible. Should be quite a show—wish I had my camera!”

V'kaan placed a foot on his chest, choking off his breath. Her black winglets stood out like a cape of wicked spikes. Niko struggled as the Xeno-Mentalist dug her iron-strong claws into his face, holding him fast. Her one remaining eye held him hypnotized so he could not look away. A flexible tube, glistening with slime, extruded from the hole in her face.

“Bon Appetit, Mistress,” Edison said, grinning, as the
oscus
reached hungrily toward Niko's eye.

Niko could not even scream. Terror spurted up—a hundred times as intense as it had been on the ship—as V'kaan's
oscus
touched his eye. For one instant he was swallowed up by the most agonizing sensation he had ever known, as if his body and soul were being turned inside out. At the same time a fragment of his conditioning awoke. An instant of horrifying, slavish adoration:
Mistress! I am yours to consume—take all of me!

That was what ignited the spark: a lightning bolt of revulsion sent him over the edge, shattering his bond with physical reality.

A blinding flash—a wrenching pain in every cell as the molecular bonds gave way. He fell through the 3rd-d barrier and exploded into darkness...silence.  All sound and light sucked out of the universe.

Dead. They have devoured me.

***

For an infinite instant, the pattern of the being named Nikola hung in a between-place. No up or down, no space...all of his self, feelings, thoughts compressed into one point. An energy being, like the Aon, an atom of pure thought.

Am I still alive? Where am I? What happened?

In this realm of non-being, Niko's brain perceived the universe with ultimate clarity. Now that he was dead...connections that he could not make became clear. Problems
he had been unable to solve before.
.. The answer...so simple. I understand it now...
 

Sound crashed in on him. His body burst back into the world and he woke to chaos. He seemed to be falling through infinite space. A voice screamed—himself?—and was ripped away by a tremendous impact that slammed the breath from him.

Still alive?
But every breath came with stabs of pain. He struggled to get his bearings.
The Martian ship? Torture? Slow execution?
 

He saw great tall shapes around him. Was it V'kaan and the other U'jaan tormentors? No, not U'jaan...tall buildings. The buildings of New York City!