Tesla's Signal (33 page)

“They won't, Mistress. I know those kinda guys.” Shelia giggled, showing a row of perfect white teeth. “Guys like that, they don't care about anything but money and power and fancy dames like me on their arm. Those bigwigs out there, they even didn't need your conditioning gizmo...it's like they were just waiting all their lives to become Angel Servants.”

Truth be known, the same thing could be said for Shelia herself. All her life, poor Shelia had had to scramble for a buck, using the attributes  God had given her. Finally, she had gotten her big break!
Glory hallelujah indeed!
She clasped her hands and twirled about with a merry laugh. 

19: Tussey Station

State College, Pennsylvania

The next morning Clara went alone to see Dr. Davidson in his lab. It was better that way. After pacing the floor all night, Niko had finally fallen asleep at about 5:00 a.m.

“Good morning, Miss Eps,” said the professor, “I trust our friend Mr. Slate is well?”

“As good as can be expected, after all he's been through. Lynch mobs, thugs, Space Cossacks...” Clara took a big bite of the pastry Davidson had offered her. “Worst of all, he hasn't had time to keep up with his grooming. I told him that growing a beard would be a great disguise, but he hates the feel of hair on his skin. It's made him awfully grumpy.”

“Yes, that's quite a problem,” Davidson agreed, lighting his pipe. “Now, let's get back to our question.” He turned to the table, where the Martian shard had been placed in a vise clamp. “I've run all sorts of tests on this object...physical properties, chemical composition. I've come up with a blank. It doesn't resemble any known element.”

“Maybe that's because it's an
unknown
element...something that didn't come from Earth.” Clara then told him the whole story of the Martian invaders and their acts of destruction; the Silver Chamber, and its hypnotic effect on its victims.

“Dear Lord! So my daughter has been hypnotized by creatures from space?” The Professor stared at the shard. “They've got to be stopped.” He put his palms on the laboratory table and gazed at Clara. “I'll see that you and, uh, Mr. Slate have everything you need.”

Niko arrived at the lab soon afterward. A few hours of sleep had improved his mood and the three of them sat down to make plans.

“So,” said Davidson, “you think you can stop a Martian invasion with your high-voltage coils?”

Niko rubbed his chin, which was once again impeccably clean-shaven. “It is more than just coils. I have plans for a whole arsenal in here.” He tapped his forehead. “We just need the proper tools and materials. Copper, scrap metal, welding torch...”

“We had to make a quick exit from New York,” Clara explained. “We left most of our equipment there. We'd be most grateful for any help. I'm a musician, Professor. I could stage a concert to pay for the materials—”

“Miss Eps,” said Dr. Davidson, “of course I would love to hear your music, but allow me to donate whatever you need for your projects. My dear wife left a stock fund when she passed away. The money was to go for my daughter's wedding. Lorraine won't be using that money if some god-damned Martians have stolen her soul.” He wiped his eye. “I want my daughter back.”

“We also need a place to work,” Niko said, “as remote as possible. Perhaps somewhere up in these mountains. Can you suggest anything?”

Davidson brightened. “Oh yes, I know just the place. It's not the Waldorf,” he warned, “but it's remote enough.”

***

“It's magnificent,” Niko said. “You couldn't ask for a better wireless transmission site.”

The three of them stood on an outcrop, on the summit of Tussey Ridge. Every direction afforded a breathtaking view: ranks of blue mountains, misty valleys...and far below, a patchwork of farms and an occasional ribbon of road.

Davidson had taken them up Hemlock Lane, past his weekend cabin. A mile further, they had stopped at the lookout. Just beyond that, a cabin stood beneath overhanging hemlocks. “It belongs to the Forestry Department,” he said. “Let's go take a look. Nobody's been here in awhile.”

The cabin turned out to have broken windows and a hole in the roof. Rainwater and raccoons had done their worst. “I'm sorry, folks, I didn't realize it was this bad,” the Professor said. “I'll send a few grad students up to help you make it livable.”

“Don't worry yourself,” said Clara. “We're not here for the luxury accommodations.”

“I think we can fit most of our equipment. We'll build a work table and shelves right there.” Niko pointed at the wall with the least damage.

“Where are you going to sleep?” Davidson asked.

“We don't plan on sleeping.” Niko raised an eyebrow. “There's too much work to do.”

The next few weeks were very busy. After patching the roof, they gathered materials and built components. With the help of two of Davidson's grad students, who believed they were setting up weather instruments, they erected a small wooden tower atop Tussey Ridge. “Right here, where the magnetic lines are strongest,” Niko said.

A dirt road paralleled the ridge, enabling them to place several more towers along the mountain top. Each would contain a turbine generator and a column of copper wire, topped with a high-frequency transmitter. Finally they invited Dr. Davidson up for a visit.

“Welcome to Tussey Station,” Niko greeted him.

“You're looking much better, sir.” Davidson looked him up and down. Niko wore a frayed, grimy vest and his hands and face were covered with dust and grease.

“Thank you. I feel much better when I can put in an uninterrupted week of work.”

“He means, uninterrupted by food and rest.” Clara grinned, gesturing with a screwdriver.

They took Davidson up to see the simple tower made of crude wooden beams placed in a tripod formation. “Why, it's hardly any taller than the trees.” Dr. Davidson squinted. “I almost didn't see it.”

“Well, that's the whole point. Those space
schmucks
won't be able to find it in a million years.”

“But...how can something that small create enough power?”

“You were looking for something gigantic, like Wardenclyffe?” Niko began to smile too. “We've refined our concept. With Clara's high-conducting materials, a smaller apparatus can do the same thing. Here's how it works. The turbine collects wind power. The transformer steps it up, and then we bounce the output back and forth between the array. You know the principle of resonance?”

Davidson looked blank. “Well...that's not really my field.”

“Imagine a child on a swing. The first push gets him going. Then it only takes a very small push at the right time, to keep him oscillating back and forth. Almost like perpetual motion. The power just keeps pulsing at higher and higher octaves of frequency.”

“I see.” Davidson looked a bit confused. “So...you have a whole array of these?”

“We're working on it,” Clara said, “as soon as I can get more conduit material. We'll build these on all of those other mountaintops. Stone Mountain, Bald Eagle, Warrior Ridge.”

“But...suppose the Martians find your transmitter?”

“That's why we're building so many, and concealing them,” Niko said. “These mountains are the perfect hiding place. It's a wilderness out here.”

“But could they detect your energy transmission?”

“Hope not,” Clara said. “We plan to transmit power on a lower frequency. It may escape detection. We're experimenting with variable oscillations, and mirror phasing.”

Professor Davidson's glance went from one to the other. “I beg your pardon?”

“Something that cancels out the spikes of the original, making it undetectable.”

“I see.” Davidson squinted up at the tower and scratched his head. “So..what are you going to do with all of this power?”

“Why, we're going to fight the Martians, of course. You think we're here for our health?” said Clara with a wry grin.

“We will transmit millions of volts via the earth and ionosphere,” said Niko, “sending them to power our devices and weapons.”

Davidson looked around. “What sort of weapons are you talking about? Large cannons?”

“The Teleforce Particle Beam. Popularly known as the
'Death Ray'
.
”
Niko's hand turned into a fist. “We mean to shoot those Martian invaders out of the sky.”

“Yes, Professor,” Clara said, “how would you like to learn to operate the system?”

“Me?”
Davidson's mouth fell open.

“That's right, sir,” said Niko. “When the war begins, we may need you to adjust the output. We'll leave you a radio transmitter and a control box.”

“But...” the Professor looked as though hoping for an escape.

“Congratulations, Doctor,” said Niko, “you have just joined our army.”

“Well,” Davidson said with a nervous laugh, “how about a lunch break for us 'soldiers'. I brought some sandwiches, and they're not going to eat themselves.”

***

A week later Davidson came back and found his two inventor friends in their cabin, which was now so packed with equipment one could scarcely move. They were huddled over a wooden cigar box. One side of it housed a circular glass screen and several tuners. The other side lay open, exposing coils of copper wire. Two antennas emerged from the top.

The Professor studied the object with raised eyebrows. “And what do you call that?”

“This is how we'll locate the aliens.” Clara clamped off a wire and gestured with the cutter. “It creates pulses which bounce off an object. We measure and map the echo, and we can tell the distance and location of those Martian ships. If the
schmucks
come for us, we'll be ready.”

Davidson stared, wide-eyed. “That's...brilliant!”

“The U.S. Navy didn't think so,” said Niko. “I tried to sell them a version for detecting enemy ships. They thought it was impractical. Of course, Thomas Edison was on their advisory board.”

“Well, then they're idiots.” The professor walked about inspecting the rest of the lab. “And what's
that,
pray tell?” He pointed at a large wedge-shaped metal panel which rested against the far wall.

“Part of the shell for my Sky Flivver.”

Dr. Davidson rubbed his eyes. “You're building a flying machine?”

Clara grinned. “We'll give you a ride when it's ready.”

“You two are insane. Is this going to be your Martian battleship?”

“Not yet. Right now we just need good transportation,” Clara said. “Driving takes forever. Even longer when there's no roads.”

Davidson reached into his pocket, where he carried a brandy flask. “How on Earth did you come up with all of this in just a few weeks?”

“I have been planning these concepts for decades, Doctor,” said Niko. “I've been to the Government and private industry with my ideas, but no one was interested. 'No commercial applications', they said.”

“Astonishing.” Davidson said. “This glimpse into the future is making me very thirsty. How about yourselves? Come on, let's go sit on that nice big log outside.”

They sat under a tree, and the Professor took a series of nested shot glasses from his picnic basket and poured three shots. For a few moments they sat quietly, contemplating the forest. Then the Professor cleared his throat and took out a folded newspaper from his suit pocket.

“Folks, I hate to spoil your day, but I should show you the latest news. Maybe you should have another drink first.”

Ocean Liner Disaster in North Sea!
said the headline.
1200 confirmed dead, many more feared. Ship may have hit iceberg; others report seeing a glowing disc in the sky...
 

Zeppelin Crashes into Capitol Building in Washington DC,
the next headline shouted.

Underneath, a secondary headline said:
Justice Department claims that the multiple disasters are the work of nefarious arch-criminal Nikola Tesla. Citizens are urged to come forward with any information...
 

“I believe I will have that drink,” said Niko. “Make it a double.”

***

With a crackle and hum, the flight turbines whirred into life.

“Here we go!”

They jumped onto the platform of the Sky Flivver. Slowly it lifted off the ground and hovered above treetop level. Clara felt the bottom of her stomach drop out—and then her whole being soared with the birds.

Beneath their platform, a disk of sheet copper spun at tremendous speed. Versions of the Tesla Turbine provided lift. In the center of the craft, a tall receiver coil tapped the energy from the array of towers.

“This is magnificent,” she exclaimed as they cleared the trees and drifted over the top of the mountain. A hawk sailed past them, following the updrafts. “It's even better than the Roadster. And it's so quiet!” The only sound was a gentle hum from the electric inducer, and a steady thrum as the turbines whirled.