Einstein Must Die! (Fate of Nations Book 1) (25 page)

Running the rudders was considered an easier job on the bridge. Once officers gained experience there, they’d be moved to the elevator controls, responsible for maintaining the ship’s pitch. Lieutenant Roberts had recently gained that honor. He stood before the elevator wheel, facing to the ship’s port side. Scanning the elevator panel constantly, he took in the angle of their twin elevators, the ambient temperature and humidity, their altitude, rate of climb, and the temperature of the lifting gas cells.

Beside him, the ballast board showed how much water was in each of their seven 4,400-pound ballast tanks. Below that, the gas board displayed the pressure within the sixteen hydrogen cells, and each had a corresponding valve for releasing the gas, to allow the ship to descend.

She glanced at the chronometer. In less than an hour, it would be time to bring her ship below the clouds and carry out her orders. She hoped the radiation wouldn’t carry over to the city. Someday she hoped to see more shows on Broadway.

***

As the day wound to a close, the lab turned from inspections on Beowulf to celebration. Clipboards were put down and bottles of beer taken up. The lab team had never been terribly formal, and as the evening began, the combination of victory and alcohol gave rise to a lively spirit of camaraderie.

Worktables were cleared as people sat on them, chatting and laughing about the day, and then about the future. Everyone had been worried about the war of course, but Beowulf’s performance today gave them deep satisfaction. The work had been worth the effort. The base was safe again, and they were poised to make major contributions to the war effort. Maybe to the nature of warfare itself. Even without the drinks, such a thought was dizzying.

Tesla was working on his second beer, enjoying the feeling of the ice-cold glass bottle in his hand. “Beer is fine, but it lacks a certain intensity,” he mused.

“It does serve well as a lead-up,” replied Savannah, clinking her bottle against his.

He cocked his head, questioning her. “Have you held out on me?”

She smiled mischievously. “I might know where Bertram keeps a bottle of rye whiskey. If you’re interested in such a thing.”

Tesla studied the beer in his hand. “This now seems insufficient,” he said, setting it down.

Savannah knocked back her bottle and finished her beer. “Be right back,” she told him, then got up and wove her way through chatting lab workers.

Tesla eased back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and listened to the chatter all around him.

George was chatting up a young woman behind him, and by the sound of her warm laughter, he’d be enjoying her company later that night.

He heard Sophia explaining why the works of Dickens should be required reading in school. Someone told her they generally were.

“Oh,” she replied. “Well, that’s good then. The kids will love it. They really will. What a journey they have in store for them!” Tesla chuckled. Sophia must have started drinking before he did.

“Fall asleep on me?” Savannah asked.

His eyes popped open, and he sat up. “Not at all. Just taking the pulse of the room.” He saw she carried a half-full bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses, and smiled.

“Yeah? And your prognosis of the room?” She sat and began pouring for them both.

Tesla took his glass and raised it in toast to her. “All will be well,” he said, taking a deep sip.

***

7,300 FEET ABOVE FORT HAMILTON, NY, USA

“It’s time, Captain,” said the young bridge officer of the
Orion
.

Captain Mary Francis Montgomery looked up from her book,
The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire
, and saw Lieutenant Roberts standing over her.

She glanced at the chronometer and confirmed it was time to begin their bombing run.

“Very well, Lieutenant,” she said, rising. She lifted the telephone handset from its cradle and spoke to the engineering room.

“Engineering, bridge. Make your speed one-half,” she ordered.

“One-half, aye!” came the reply. She felt the four engines slow, their vibrations growing softer.

“Helmsman, down bubble five degrees,” she said.

Lieutenant Leeson spun his wheel, watching the indicator carefully. Within a glass tube, a thick liquid held a single air bubble. As the ship responded to the change, the bubble slid to one side, indicating a good dive.

“Down bubble five degrees,” he confirmed.

Behind her, Lieutenant Roberts was back at elevator control. Watching the altimeter, he called out, “Seven thousand feet, Captain.”

Captain Montgomery nodded. With rudders down, the thrust from their engines was driving them lower. She could bring the ship to attack altitude this way, but it would take too long. She wanted to be at eight hundred feet for the bombing. They needed to release hydrogen from the cells to make the ship heavier.

She turned to face Roberts. “Release lifting gas for eight hundred feet, Lieutenant,” she ordered.

He nodded and slowly twisted valves along the length of the gas board. The ship vented hydrogen into the atmosphere, losing a small portion of their buoyancy. He worked to keep the ship in balance, venting equal amounts along their length.

“Ship is coming down, Captain,” he reported. As they neared the target altitude, he would release water ballast to hold them at eight hundred feet.

“Very good,” she said. She picked up the phone again. “Bomb bay, bridge. Attack run will be at eight hundred feet. Saturation bombing, conventional warheads. Stand by.”

Along with Lieutenant Roberts, she watched the altimeter click steadily lower.

Six thousand feet…fifty-six hundred feet…

***

The lab had quieted considerably as dinner approached. Most everyone had cleared out for the day, leaving Tesla and Savannah lounging in low chairs beside Beowulf’s right tread. The bottle of whiskey sat on a nearby table, but held quite a bit less than two hours ago.

Tesla had sunk low into his chair, and his feet were up on Savannah’s chair. For her part, she’d matched him drink for drink, but seemed more composed, sitting forward with her elbows resting on her knees. The colonel had joined in their wandering conversation, but lamented the fact he couldn’t drink anymore.

“Are you religious, Nikola?” Savannah asked.

He shrugged. “Religion,” he said, “is simply an ideal. It is an ideal force that tends to free the human being from material bonds. I do not believe that matter and energy are interchangeable, any more than are the body and soul. There is just so much matter in the universe, and it cannot be destroyed.”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out, pondering her question further. “As I see life on this planet, there is no individuality. It may sound ridiculous to say so, but I believe each person is but a wave passing through space, ever-changing from minute to minute as it travels along—finally, some day, just becoming dissolved.”

Savannah stared at him wide-eyed as his answer rolled through her brain. She closed her eyes to focus, but that didn’t help, so she opened them again.

Before she could form a response, the colonel interjected. “And that, my daughter, is why I wish I could still drink.”

“You’re better off,” said Edison. He approached the group, carrying a tall stack of notebooks.

Of the three of them, the colonel was the only one not startled by Edison’s arrival. Savannah’s head jerked up, but she flashed a welcoming smile by habit. Tesla raised an eyebrow, but gave no other outward indication of surprise.

“You disapprove of alcohol, Mr. Edison?” asked the colonel.

He dropped the stack of books on a table beside Tesla. “I have better use for my head. To put alcohol in the human brain is like putting sand in the bearings of an engine.”

Tesla rolled his eyes. “Sanded many engines, have you?”

Edison ignored the question and pointed to the notebooks. “Bertram asked me to bring these. The after-action findings of your tank’s status.” He turned to leave.

“You don’t approve of Beowulf,” said Tesla. “Why are you here?”

Edison turned back with a huff of impatience. “The president asked me to assist the lab’s work. One doesn’t disappoint a president.”

Tesla nodded sagely. “Right. Could be bad for business.”

“You’re rather pure, aren’t you?” asked Edison, his lips curling in a humorless smile.

Tesla poured himself another whiskey. “The scientific man does not aim at an immediate result. His work is like that of a planter for the future. His duty is to lay the foundation for those who are to come and point the way.”

Edison scoffed. “Very easy to say, working with other people’s money. This facility cost a fortune. Capital isn’t free, Tesla. It’s an engine to be put to work. It has value on its own.”

Tesla sipped his drink, content to let Edison make his speech.

“In fact,” he continued, “anything that won’t sell, I don’t want to invent. Its sale is proof of utility, and utility is success.”

Tesla scowled. “Men like you are an impediment to progress. The frontiers of the mind won’t be pushed back with safe, conventional thinking.” He slowly downed the shot of whiskey, enjoying Edison’s disapproval even more than the burning flavor.

Edison knew when he was being goaded. “Do you require whiskey every day to be productive?”

Tesla shook his head. “Not at all. Vodka, beer—any type of alcohol, really—is perfectly acceptable.”

The colonel chuckled. Savannah stifled a laugh, her hand clasped over her mouth. She was pleasantly drunk, and the warm buzzing in her head made her forget her manners.

Edison recognized he was the outsider in this group and was eager to rejoin Bertram upstairs. He nodded toward Savannah.

“Mrs. Browning,” he said, then spun and walked away.

“Good evening, Mr. Edison,” she called after him, with a touch of guilt. When he was out of earshot, she swatted Tesla on the shoulder. “You should be nicer to him. He means well.”

Tesla grunted. “His kind…more concerned with market forces than the workings of the universe.”

She smiled. “Well, ‘his kind’ help good things happen too.”

“Hmm.” He looked around. “Where’s Madelaine?”

“One floor up. The physics team is trying out a new approach to anti-gravity.”

“Fascinating. And she is interested in physics?”

Savannah shook her head. “Not that much. But the team leader has a daughter two years older, Tracy. They’ve become a terrible twosome. At twelve, life is all about peer approval.”

“It’s good to have a hobby,” said Tesla.

Savannah couldn’t decide if that was the whiskey talking, or just classic Tesla. Either way, she nodded.

“Uh-huh,” she agreed.

The colonel had been listening, but also replaying the day’s events in his mind. He found several instances where he could have optimized more effectively, but overall he was satisfied with his performance.

“Tesla, what you have done will change the face of war as we know it,” he said. “Do you realize the gift you delivered? No more foxholes or trenches. No more mustard gas, gangrene, or field amputations. This is a major step forward for mankind.”

Like all inventors, Tesla enjoyed having his work appreciated. “Let the future tell the truth,” he replied, “and evaluate each man according to his work and accomplishments. The present is theirs; the future, for which I have really worked, is mine.”

“Well said—”

THOOMP
. A muffled explosion came from above them, and a slight tremor ran through the floor, then faded away.

“What the hell was that?” asked Savannah.

Tesla sat up straight in his chair, now more alert. His eyes narrowed as he guessed at the unexpected noise. “Colonel?”

“My seismic sensor picked it up loud and clear. Some type of impact, quite close. I believe it came from one floor up.”

Savannah looked at Tesla, and they shared a concerned worry. “Madelaine,” she said, leaping from her chair and running for the elevator.

Before she reached it, the platform began descending. She and Tesla stood waiting for it to arrive.

“Hurry up!” she yelled, pounding her thigh with a clenched fist.

Finally, the platform slipped below the lab’s ceiling, and she saw Madelaine coming down with Bertram. A wash of relief flowed through her body, knowing her daughter was safe.

“Bertram, what’s going on? Is everything—”

He raised his hands. “Everything is fine. The gravity test had a small issue, but no one was hurt. I figured I better get Maddy down to you right away, though.”

The lift settled, and Savannah ran up to grab Madelaine, clutching her in a tight hug and lifting her from the floor.

“God, Maddy,” she said. “I was so worried. Think I aged a year in a minute.”

“I’m fine, Mom. It was fun,” she said, but she buried her face in Savannah’s shoulder anyway. They were having less of these moments as she grew older, but Maddy admitted they still felt good.

Unconsciously, Savannah stood Madelaine up and ran her hands over her, ensuring she wasn’t hurt. “Bertram, that sounded like an explosion.” The statement came out more accusatory than she’d intended.

He nodded. “Technically, no. But we did experience a rapid release of energy. Like I said, though, no one was injured.”

At her raised eyebrow and silent look, he continued. “The experiment involved manipulating gravity waves by use of a localized field of anti-graviton radiation. Basically, we tried to destroy the subatomic particles that carry the force of gravity.”

“You destroyed something, all right,” said Madelaine.

“Unfortunately, the experiment worked too well. The lead cannonball we tried to levitate was instead fired into the ceiling at great force.”

“You shot a cannonball into the ceiling?” asked Savannah.

“Not
into
, per se…”

“Bertram!”

“It went through three floors. I’m told it’s currently lodged in the wall of level three.”

“That’s fantastic!” exclaimed Tesla.

“One word for it,” said Savannah. “And no one was hurt by that thing ripping through the floors?”

“We were…quite lucky in that regard,” admitted Bertram. “Although we may have some structural damage to repair.”