Tesla: A Teen Steampunk/Cyberpunk Adventure (Tesla Evolution Book 1) (22 page)

She’s turning into Bindi, he thought. His mind flashed back to her. What they needed was an army of Mervs. He suddenly felt a little sadness. He missed Merv and Sheila. And also, surprisingly, Bindi. He pulled her handkerchief out of his pocket. It was still wrapped around his mother’s letter. He held them and wished both his mother and Bindi could be there. It was an odd feeling.

The city was quiet. The commotion of the previous weeks as they had prepared to go had vanished into the air.

28

MELANIE HAD BEEN fretting since they day the army had left. She had been quiet every single night the two of them had sat on the terrace, and she had stared out to the west with a fierce intensity in her eyes. There had been no word. Everyone hoped this was because winning takes up more time than losing.

*

Sebastian had felt the battle. Most of them were dead. It was simple as that. The zeppelins hadn’t been much of a threat once the ground force had been taken out, a simple task that the cyborgs had almost enjoyed. The dragons had swooped in out of the sun and the hydrogen had exploded with such intensity that nearby scary flapping fiery things had been taken out with them. That’s what the handful of survivors had said.
 

There was nothing quite as harrowing as opening the gates, not even the main gates, to a defeated army. The vitriol was sapped from the men, who were too embarrassed, terrified and scarred to look anywhere than at their feet. And there was the weeping and wailing of the families that had lost a valued member, or more.
 

It sank into Sebastian and he found himself crying over these people he had never known. He knew it was foolhardy, but he was a boy, after all.

No one seemed interested in listening to him. He had felt the battle. It was faint but so great were the cyborg numbers that he could feel the electromagnetic force. It was short. It was painful. But it was definite. He knew he should have gone. They needed him. Without him they were all dead.
 

For the first time he was being to feel like he could do something about it.

He had felt the battle. It was etched into his mind. And that meant he knew where the enemy could be found.

*

It was night and the city was tucked away, mourning in their homes. Sebastian walked the empty streets wondering what to do. Melanie was tending to Gavin. She was always with him these days, and hardly had time for him at all. The streets were dark and somber, with the occasional gas lantern spilling its light onto the grim cobblestones.
 

His idle mind led his feet down to the western gate. Beyond it was the treasure trove of discarded junk. The small gate was unattended so he took the opportunity to sneak through and out into the junkyards. The hill was dark against the night sky, ominous and foreboding.

He walked around the mound, slowly stepping it out, measuring. It was two hundred and fifty paces around. The mound must be thirty feet high, he guessed. Whatever was under it was big. He ran his hand over the surface as he walked. He could feel the brittle texture of the strange material cover. But that was all. The feeling he had sensed previously was no longer there.
 

He continued around until he returned to the place where he had initially felt something from within. Once again, he felt strange harmonics ringing in his head, and he sensed a presence. He couldn’t tell where. Something was trying to communicate with him. In there was some kind of animal.
 

He focused his mind, attempting to detect something, anything, underneath the surface. He placed both hands on the material in front of him and concentrated as much as he could. He swept down the body until he sensed a bright box, like a magnet, deep within the mound. He channeled as directly as he could into it.
 

After he picked himself up off the ground, twenty feet from where he had been thrown, he reflected on what he had seen.

He had fallen down a long tunnel that twisted and twirled as he fell, no,
flew
along it. Tiny points of white—like stars—flashed past him, traveling so fast they were a blur. Then there was a blinding flash of bright white light.
 

He felt the weight of the wings in the huge body as they slammed into the ground. He launched into the air at the same time as he breathed out a billowing fireball that engulfed a sea of marching cyborgs. There was a piercing shriek, hidden, unseen. Then there was pain as the beast collapsed to the ground. The sound of marching feet, pounding rhythmically into the ground, grew in intensity until the sound was deafening. The world shook violently.

Then all was black. But whatever these were, they weren’t cyborgs. Cyborgs were modified humans. These were nothing but machines, metal skeletons, with no other aim but the termination of humankind.

Sebastian could sense the strange machine inside the hill, dormant but not dead. Its outline was very faint. The soil was shielding it, hiding it, protecting it. A machine so powerful someone was afraid to let people see it. A machine. Not alive, not living, but aware.
 

He put his hands against the mound. “I wonder who built you. And what happened for you to come to this, resting alone amongst the rubble and junk.”

It’s not soil, he thought. He licked the wall and gagged. Definitely not soil. It was more of a material covering, soft like soil and tougher than fabric. He looked closely at the surface. The material was the color of sand, but with a dark fleck running through it to make it look like soil. It was some kind of padded shield.
 

If it were a device, a machine, it would need a power source. Where could I get one big enough? he thought. The guns were powered by batteries. He wondered where they were.

He could feel the beast tuning him in. There were harmonics in his head as the creature aligned to his thoughts.

“That’s really weird,” he muttered.

That’s really weird,
came the echo.

“Should I be worried?” he said.

Should I be worried?
came the echo.

Sebastian took an uncertain step away.

Don’t go,
came the echo.

“I haven’t said anything yet.” He turned and ran away.

*

As he passed through the gate back into the city the fat sergeant stepped out from behind the wall where he was having a secret smoke.

“How did you get out?”

“There was no one at the gate so I just walked through.”

“I don’t believe you. I’ve been here all night.” He stared at Sebastian, daring him to say otherwise.

Sebastian didn’t say anything.

“Do I need to remind you that it’s an offence to leave the city at night without notifying the appropriate authorities? You could be meeting up with anybody. I could understand if you were stealing away with a young lady. But you’re on your own. You could’ve been meeting with the enemy outside.”

“Well, I wasn’t. I was just looking through the junk.”

“What for?”

“My friend said he found some hydrolifters. I was looking for one to see if I could make it work.”

“And?”

“It was too dark.” Sweat was pouring off Sebastian’s forehead. Surely he’s going to notice, he thought.

Various responses appeared to line up in the guard’s mind, but then he gave a shrug as a sign of defeat. “I’m watching you, boy. Always watching you,” he shouted to Sebastian’s retreating figure.

*

An hour later Sebastian returned to the gate. This time the guard wasn’t having a cigarette but was sitting behind the desk. Sebastian took up a concealed position across the road among some barrels and stared into the gatehouse. The dim light from the gaslights cast a yellow glow through the interior, giving everything a golden tint, except for the guard, who looked sick. The keys to the gate were on the man’s belt.
 

By the doorway stood a stack of weapons resting against the wall.
 

Sebastian concentrated and the weapons fell over.

The guard jumped out from behind the table and shouted. He searched the roof for something that could have knocked them over. He stood in the middle of the room and scratched his head.
 

Sebastian concentrated and the buckle on the man’s belt flew open. His pants fell to the floor, the keys scattering.
 

Sebastian concentrated again and drew the keys under the desk out of view.
 

The guard swore, reached down and pulled up his pants. The metal button appeared to have vanished. Holding his pants up, he waddled into the storage room behind the desk.

Sebastian dashed into the gatehouse. He ducked under the desk and grabbed the keys. He flicked through them until he found one that matched and unclipped it off the hoop. He scrambled for the gate and slammed the key into the lock. He had the gate open and quietly closed before the guard came out of the storage room wearing a new set of pants.
 

Sebastian let out a sigh of relief and put the key in his pocket. He made his way out into the dark to the mound.

This time he had a knife, the sharpest he could find. He hoped it would do the job. He crept up to the mound and ran his hand over the strange material.
 

“I won’t hurt you,” he said.

I won’t hurt you,
came the echo.

He took the knife and slowly sliced across the material. The knife cut deep. He examined what the slice had revealed. He ran his fingers into the cut and found that underneath the covering layer there were many more exactly the same. All very thin, but together they made an impenetrable shield. He cut off a small piece of material, big enough to wrap around his arm but small enough to be missed by a casual observer. He wanted to examine this more closely.

As he approached the gatehouse he let his mind wander. He could sense all the iron weapons beyond the wall and the faint outline of the guard. He concentrated and the swords by the doorway fell over with a loud clatter. The guard shouted and stood up. Sebastian concentrated. The guard’s belt buckle flew open and his pants fell down around his ankles.

Sebastian heard an amazingly long stream of swearwords before the guard disappeared into the storeroom. He took the key, unlocked the gate and slipped through the gatehouse as the guard came back out of the storeroom.
 

The man’s face was bright red. “What are you doing, boy?” he shouted.

“I was planning on meeting a young lady.”

“Not tonight, you ain’t. Get away from the gate and go back to bed.”

As he passed the guard, Sebastian dropped the key. It floated gently under the desk.

29

“VAT DO YOU have there?” Albert asked.
 

It was the next day and Sebastian had been up most of the night staring at the material, thinking about what lay beneath the mound. He looked tired, but his mind was buzzing. He ran the strange material through his fingers, examining its texture. He had let his mind wander over it, but it was completely inert. There was nothing metallic in it at all, yet it was stronger than steel.

“I found it flapping around out on the fields when we were examining the zeppelins with Nikola. I haven’t seen anything like it. Do you know what it is?” He handed it to Albert.

Albert looked closely and suspiciously at the edges. “Interesting you should find this flapping around. It’s an old material. It’s called para-aramid synthetic fiber. Ancient armies used it as armor. It’s stronger than iron, lighter than aluminum. It can be made into any shape at all. Sometimes they called it Kevlar.”

“How is it made?”

“It’s synthesized in solution from the monomers para-phenylenediamine and terephthaloyl chloride in a condensation reaction.”

Sebastian sighed. Maybe one day Albert would realize he wasn’t a fellow genius physician.

Albert grabbed his chalk and scribbled on the blackboard:
C
6
H
4
(NH
2
)
2
.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” said Sebastian.

Albert looked over his shoulder and noted Sebastian’s confused expression. He nodded, accepting he had skipped a vital step.

“Hexamethylphosphoramide was the solvent initially used for the polymerization, but was replaced by a solution of N-methyl-pyrrolidone and calcium chloride.” He smiled, shaking his head in disbelief that he could have forgotten such an obvious step.

Sebastian hit his head against the desk. “Can you make it?”

“Maybe. I know the theory. I could try. Did you have something in mind?”

*

“Nikola, what’s under the material shield out beyond the gates? I know something’s there. I can feel it.”

Nikola drummed his fingers on his desk, looking sternly at Sebastian. “What do you know about it?”

“It’s a machine, but it’s not like anything I’ve seen before. I’ve seen devices like the ones Mr. Stephenson created. They dance, draw and do lots of clever things, but on a small scale. This isn’t just huge. It seems a lot more complex than other machines.”

Nikola sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “The best way to describe it is as a failed experiment from a long time ago.” He paused for some time. Then he stood up quickly. “I have a drawing somewhere.”

He dragged his finger along the shelves of ancient books until he found what he was looking for. He extracted a heavy tome and placed it gently on the desk. He opened the cover and dust billowed everywhere. Slowly and delicately, he turned the pages until he jabbed his finger at a pencil sketch.
 

“It was a war machine,” he said.

“It looks like a dragon, sorry, a GSFB.”

“In a way. It’s over four times the size of one. Its power is immense. It flies, adapts to its environment, and can unleash vast amounts of firepower over long and short range. It can destroy a whole city.”

“And can it communicate?”

“No. Not that I’m aware of.”

“Could a machine have a mind?” Sebastian asked.