Tesla's Signal (66 page)

““Uncle, it's way more than a radio tower. It is an
energy
transmitter. It transmits wireless energy through the Earth. There's a deep central shaft, and a series of tunnels radiating out. There's a control panel and tuning circuits, condensers, transformers, ground-terminal electrodes. It produces tremendous voltage, and that's what gives the Orb its power to broadcast long-range transmissions. Firing a ray at it from the sky wouldn't reach any of that. As long as they can still tap that energy, they can rule humanity.”

Abraham stroked his beard. “I see. Still...if you destroy the Orb, do you really think that
putz
Edison is smart enough to know how to set the whole thing up again?”

Clara grimaced. “No...but perhaps some other engineer will figure it out. We can't take that risk.”

“No,” said Niko. He put a hand to his side and drew a painful breath. “Can't risk my devices...falling into hands of evildoers...ever again. The whole system...it must be demolished!”

Abraham sat pondering, a finger to his lips. “But..how are you going to get in past those Martians? The place will be guarded tighter than the Czar's palace.”

“They're watching the skies,” said Clara. “And...I think they're busy with New York at the moment. That was part of our plan. We knew that New York had to provide the distraction while we moved in on Wardenclyffe.”

“I'll float in on the Long Island Sound,” Niko said. “They'll think my ship is just an old fishing boat.”

With luck, they wouldn't see him at all—because he would use the Light-Bender.

“That's enough talking,” Clara said. “Shut up and rest. Here, let's put this on to splint your ribs.” With her uncle's help, Clara applied a large cloth binding around Niko's chest. “You're lucky Miss Feigel doesn't know about this, or she'd put you on strict bed rest for three days.”

As the sky lightened with dawn, Clara and Abraham walked him out to the front of the warehouse where the Saucer waited. He still felt weak, and his chest hurt like the devil, but there was no more time to waste.

The two of them checked the Saucer over carefully, adjusting every bolt, checking every electrical connection. Clara looked over the remaining Tele-men, including Golem. They laid out the Teleforce and Thor weapons on the ground and inspected them, while Abraham shooed away a few curious spectators.

“All right, now for the Treasure.” Clara took out the Romanov crystal and helped Niko set it in the weapon emplacement.

They methodically tested their signal watches, communicator radio watches, every gadget down to the pencil-sized light bulbs and stingers. “That's quite a collection of toys,” said Abraham. “Are you sure you didn't come from the future?”

“Who knows? Maybe I did.” Niko smiled, tightening the last connection, and stood up. “Mr. Lowe, thank you for everything.” He reached out and firmly grasped Abraham Lowe's hand.
A handshake. I'm not afraid anymore!
 

“Clara. Oh God—Clara!” He turned to her: his comrade in arms, colleague, kindred soul, most beloved friend. Suddenly, without conscious volition, it happened: they flung their arms around each other. All Niko's fear of contact melted away. Their lips met in a fierce, fiery kiss. They clung together like two tree roots grown into one.

“I wish you could go with me. I...don't want to be separated from you, Clara. I wish...” He could not finish.

He wished that this second could last forever. He wished that he and Clara could love each other as man and woman. Perhaps maybe after...
afterward
. Perhaps the whole world would be different...after.

She held him at arms' length. “Don't worry. We're going to clobber those Space Cossacks, you and I. We'll kick their
tuchis
right back to Mars, and then we'll live happily ever after.” She raised a finger in a jaunty salute: the sign of the East-side gangsters.

“We will. Goodbye, Clara, I'll see you in Wardenclyffe.” He turned away without another word, climbed into the Saucer and departed from Nyack.

***

His flight took him across the Hudson, over White Plains and Greenwich. Finally he set the craft down on the dawn-bright waters of Long Island Sound.  

He covered the Saucer with seaweed and debris, until it looked like a derelict yacht. By the light of dawn, he floated across the Sound toward Long Island. He rested his head against the Saucer control board, conserving his strength. Not thinking about Martians or current. For once his brain rested from its ceaseless spinning, and dwelled on just one moment of exquisite sweetness:
I kissed Clara
. His lips tingled with the memory.

The sun rose in the east and the ocean glowed like a sheet of fire. And so he floated along just offshore of Long Island, past forest and farms and occasional towns...all so peaceful and quiet. Eventually he passed a yacht club and familiar jetty, close to the village of Shoreham. He found a sheltered cove and concealed the Saucer among stands of dune-grass. Still thinking about Clara, he worked quickly to assemble the Tele-men he had brought: an army of 10.

He left them standing at the ready, concealed amid the scrub forest and weeds, with a coded instruction.
“Stand by for signal.”
 

From here it was a moderate walk along the edge of a potato farm. He held onto his sore ribs, pausing to catch his breath, but his footsteps remained resolute.  

And there it stood: the silhouette of his grand, fateful Wardenclyffe Tower. It loomed up against the sky, looking as majestic as always. The World Wireless Tower would link all human communications, so that a person could talk to anyone in the world...except that now, ruthless aliens had perverted it into a device to use in their conquest of humanity. There sat the hideous glowing Orb within the cupola.

He flinched, as memories of his Martian captivity threatened to overwhelm him even now. “I'll smash you soon,” he muttered, clutching his Amulet. Even with that protection, he could feel the Angel frequency practically knocking him over.

He knew from his recovered memories that this was the Master Orb...much larger in capabilities than any of the others, and more strongly shielded as well.
Mr. Lowe thought I could fly by and shoot it down.
But that probably wouldn't have worked.
No, it needs my personal touch.
 

The Angels were keeping a close guard on the compound. A vast circle of ships patrolled the perimeter: so many that a rabbit probably couldn't get through unobserved.

But they wouldn't see Nikola, for now he changed direction and ducked beneath a tangle of woods. He rooted around in the dirt and fallen leaves until his fingers found a rim of metal. A few minutes' digging exposed a large circular covering. He had brought a crowbar to pry the lid up. Below, a metal ladder led down into darkness.

Smiling, he strapped on a small headlight and began to descend. Once he reached the tunnel, he did not have to crouch down: there was plenty of headroom. He had spared no expense in designing his system.

A short walk, slanting downward, took him to his destination: the central shaft. There, in the center of a great vaulted chamber, sat the Magnifying Transmitter that could tap the Earth currents and transmit millions of volts. Now he could see that those who had stolen his Tower had only utilized a fraction of its capabilities.

If the U'jaan had succeeded in making him their slave, he might have put his entire system at their disposal—and America might have fallen to the Angels in a day.
That's how powerful Wardenclyffe Tower could have been.
As it was...the U'jaan, and their engineer Edison, had no idea the underground Magnifying Transmitter even existed.

But they'll soon learn.
He took out his meters and watches, sat down in front of the control panel and waited.  

Waiting was the hardest part. He suddenly became aware of how quiet this place was. A question occurred to him:
what is the cubic volume of this chamber?
He hoped he had designed it to be divisible by three. Otherwise, it might not work properly!

A sweat of fear broke out.
Stop it,
he told himself again. Obsessing over the number three was not going to help...it would only distract. Anyway, he was done with all of that. The Nikola who hid behind silly superstitions...that person was dead. Right?
I'm a grown man now.
 

***

As the sun rose, a large black delivery vehicle approached along Shoreham Road. A wooden banner had been attached to its side.
Lowe's
Custom Supply.
 

The vehicle stopped a short distance from the Wardenclyffe compound. Inside, Clara took out a signal watch and pressed a few coded pulses, signaling her arrival. 

She hadn't been sure the signal would be able to get through. But now that New York had been liberated, some of the frequencies had damped down. An answering signal confirmed that Niko had reached his destination.

Proceeding with next phase.
The vehicle reached the installation which had once been Tesla's World Wireless Tower and laboratory. Now the Wardenclyffe grounds boasted a large sign which proclaimed
World Headquarters, Silver Chamber Corporation.
A high chain-link fence, topped with razor coils,  surrounded the property.

A tight ring of about 50 Martian ships hovered in the air, patrolling the perimeter. Other ships hung in idling mode, tethered to tall metal pylons surrounding the facility.

Abraham Lowe drove up to the gate and waved his official ID badge. “I'm the supplier for this place,” he said to the guard. “I came here a few weeks ago. We're here to deliver some carbon tubes.”

The guard squinted. “What the devil are carbon tubes? We didn't order none o' those...”  His eyes shone silver like a pair of dimes.

Clara and her uncle had dressed for the occasion, with coveralls and helmets, earmuffs and large concealed Protection Amulets. Now Clara pulled a pair of goggles over her eyes to hide their lack of silver. She got out of the car, carrying her tool bag and a large metal case. “Glory hallelujah,” she said in her most arrogant voice. “Our Angel Masters commanded us to come here and serve their needs. If we don't fix their induction circuits, the Holy Orb might fail. Imagine how angry they'll be at you!”

Just the threat of the Angels' wrath made the guard cringe. “Please—I didn't mean no disobedience. Don't report me—please! Just drive up to the entrance. Leave the stuff there on the porch!”

“Thanks, pal. Your reward will be great in Heaven.” Just as Clara had suspected: many of the Angels' servants were either too terrified to think straight, or their intelligence had been dulled by Angel control.

 They parked near an assortment of wagons and autos, unpacked a couple of crates and carried them toward the building. She gazed around the premises, noting a huge maze of fences and corrals. Within these she caught a glimpse of hundreds of captives, packed tight as sardines. None of them moved or cried out; their eyes stared vacantly; their lips murmured fragments of prayer and worship. “Glory, glory, glory...”

The entrance to the former Wardenclyffe lab had been tricked out with a grand portico and massive double doors, decorated in lavish rococo style. “Start chanting and bowing,” Clara told her uncle. “Glory, glory, glory!”

A pair of lovely young women greeted them in low-cut bustiers, like denizens of a whorehouse. “Welcome,” they exclaimed, “welcome to the Heavenly Abode of the Chosen Vessel, Sister Shelia!”

“Glory, glory! We were called by
Lord Edison
himself to make repairs,” said Clara. And with those words, the two of them were at last admitted into the Inner Sanctum of the Holiest.

Clara gagged with revulsion. This place had been Niko's lab, a shrine of electric marvels and scientific brilliance. Now it had become a house of horrors.

The alien stench practically knocked her over. A huge crowd of U'jaan,  lay about, glutted from a tremendous 'banquet' of human souls. The discarded remains of their victims lay in contorted postures all about them. The bodies had that hollowed-out look, with empty holes where their eyes had been.

Others of the Martians had not yet sated their appetites. As they no longer wore their masks, Clara at last beheld the holy countenances of the Blessed Angels: their bulging eyes and slick greenish skin, dripping with fluid. One of them, whose eye appeared damaged, straddled a young girl and gripped her by the throat. The monster had inserted a slimy, pulsing
oscus
into the girl's eye. Two others bent over another victim, sucking greedily from both eyes at once. Many more human disciples knelt nearby, some of them still chanting and smiling, waiting for their turn. “Holy holy, bound for heavenly glory.”

The Angels' elite servants had joined the banquet, gorging themselves from huge tables laden with liquor and delicacies. Spilled food and drink littered the floor while the elite servants lounged on velvet couches in various states of undress. There lay Sister Shelia without a stitch of clothing, wrapped in a tangled embrace with her favorite, the high and mighty Lord Thomas Edison. The Angels' “chief engineer” looked too dissipated to turn on a light switch.