Authors: L. Woodswalker
“Nonsense. If my daughter's in trouble, I've got to try and find her. When are you leaving?”
“Right after the show. As soon as I change out of these awful clothes. Oh, what the hell...sure, come along.” She shrugged. “If we drive non-stop, we might get there by tomorrow night.” She quickly took the Theremin apart and packed it into its canvas bag. “Our Roadster is a beast—I think it could go as fast as 80 miles an hour, if there was a good enough road! Only one thing, Professor—I do the driving.”
***
Shoreham, Long Island
The sun rose, silhouetting the grand structure of the Wardenclyffe Tower. Today, after several months of quiet, the property was the scene of lively activity.
A steady parade of luxury automobiles and carriages made their way to the Tower site. The cars disgorged their riders: officials, grandees, functionaries, and lots of newsmen. A brass band gathered, along with local residents and a few hot-dog sellers.
When all was ready, the Mayor of Shoreham gave a little speech for the reporters and cameramen. “Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to welcome Mr. J. P. Morgan!”
The millionaire stepped up to the podium, to the sound of brass band fanfare.
“And now,” said the Mayor, “please welcome the wondrous and heavenly Sister Shelia!”
A round of applause greeted Sister Shelia. The beloved Angel Apostle wore a gown covered with pearls. A giant white-plumed hat perched on her head, and her neck and wrists sported diamonds that would dazzle the Queen of England.
“Glory Hallelujah,” Sister Shelia said, blowing kisses to everyone.
Now the officials got down to business. A team of lawyers opened their briefcases. The parties sat down and applied themselves to the task of signing a mountain of documents. When they finished, a lawyer spoke up. “The closing is now complete. The ownership of this property has been transferred from Mr. J. P. Morgan to Sister Shelia of the Silver Chamber Corporation!”
The photographers angled closer. Sister Shelia gave her hand to the great industrialist, who bent to kiss it. She touched her cheek to both of his, and everyone cheered again. The band broke into a Sousa march.
“Glory glory,” said Shelia, and turned to her two escorts. “Dear brothers and sisters, welcome to the new headquarters of the Servants of the Angels. Please welcome the newest and most talented member of our organization: our new electrical engineer, Mr. Thomas Edison!”
She gave a gloved hand to Mr. Edison, and the crowds cheered. Edison just gazed up at the Wardenclyffe Tower with a gloating grin on his face, like a bully who has just succeeded in stealing a rival's hoard of gold. “That's one hell of a construction,” he muttered. “The materials alone must be worth a fortune!”
“And let me introduce my new Radio Communications expert.” Shelia looked at her notes “Mr. Gug...uh, Guglie...uh, Mr. Bill Marconi!”
She gave her other hand to the Italian, whose baffled expression resembled that of a child unexpectedly thrust among adults. His eyes, faintly glowing silver, followed Sister Shelia with adoration.
While waiters served drinks to everyone, Sister Shelia and her entourage toured the laboratory building. “What a great place! It's got so many possibilities. Take those old machines out,” she told her aides. “They can all be sold to finance our redecoration.”
“I'll take that, and that,” said Edison, pointing at the fabrication machinery. “I'm not touching
that
contraption though.” He stared at the giant Tesla coil which stood in the center of the cavernous laboratory. “It's liable to fry everyone in this room. What the devil is it
for,
anyway?”
Shelia wrapped an arm around his ample middle. “Never mind that dusty old machinery, Tom. Let's cover it up and forget about it. We're gonna make a real palace out of this old dump. Velvet couches, crystal chandeliers, champagne fountain, swimming pool! It'll be like heaven on Earth! A place for the elite Servants of the Angels to enjoy the fruits of their labors. Hallelujah!”
The next day the Angels came down in their glowing chariot and put the crowning touch on top of Wardenclyffe Tower: a second Orb, like the one that had been destroyed. It was somewhat smaller than the original, and did not shine as brightly. But the two new engineers, Edison and Marconi, had no problems connecting it up.
“Bill, do
you
know what the hell this thing's supposed to do?” asked Edison as they sat on the cupola of Wardenclyffe Tower, drinking martinis and enjoying the grand view.
“Why, I imagine it is a radio transmitter,” Marconi said.
“Why, so it is! I guess once it's properly powered it'll spread the Organization's message all over the world, eh? You know, Bill, in a couple of years, this Organization is gonna be bigger than all of old J. P.'s holdings combined. Why, it'll be even bigger than the President!” Edison gave Marconi a comradely slap on the back. “Aren't you glad you've climbed aboard the winning side?”
They wore big grins on their faces as they put away their tools.
Afterward, there was a big celebration at Wardenclyffe, with lots of dancing and liquor, and the two engineers enjoyed their reward: the heavenly affections of the beautiful Sister Shelia, Chosen Vessel of the Angels.
21: The Pearly Round Object
As soon as Clara had left for her concert, a cloud of gloom and foreboding settled over the mountain.
Don't be silly,
Niko told himself,
nothing can happen to her in a peaceful little town like State College.
She had traded her overalls and tool belt for a gorgeous gown. She looked stunning—too good, in fact. It made it that much harder to say goodbye.
He spent the day at his lab table, staring at a lot of half-completed circuits and tangles of wire. He found it hard to concentrate.
When she comes back
...the thought remained unfinished.
She was right
, he realized.
I'm an egotistical ass. I don't deserve someone like her.
He wished he could express his feelings toward Clara. But that might not be a good idea. It might lead to physical attraction. Which might cause even more trouble...
because I'm a freak of Nature!
If he were to touch someone, especially in passion, why...who knew what might happen!
I'm not a man, but an electrical conductor.
Look what had happened at Wardenclyffe Tower!
A hundred million volts shooting through my body.
Well, this was no time to be distracted by thoughts of physical desire. Better to bury himself in work, becoming one with the most tremendous bursts of power in Nature...far more satisfying than mere bodily sensations.
Niko squared his shoulders, focused his resolve and picked up his notebook. The page opened to his latest notes on improvements to the Sky Flivver.
Electrostatic repulsion...modulation of frequencies...light refraction.
Clara was right about one thing—the Sky Flivver was a handy way to get around, but it was no match for Martians with a death ray. He'd need to encase the Flivver in an indestructible shell. Also, he needed much greater lift and speed. The Martian attack discs seemed to neutralize gravity. Why couldn't he do the same thing? But today he couldn't get his brain to focus on the problem. The more he tried to think about it, the more it eluded him.
He stood in the doorway of the cabin and stared at the sky. The day had started out sunny, but now, storm clouds were gathering. Lightning flashed on the far ridge, followed by a rumble of thunder.
There was nothing Niko loved more than thunderstorms. He waited for the storm to build, but Zeus didn't seem to have much energy today. Nothing but a bit of weak cloud-to-cloud lightning from this one. “That's the best you can do?” Niko mocked the God of Thunder.
“I
can do
better than that!”
Zeus gave up with a few half-hearted mutters. Disappointed, Niko turned away. The thunderstorms in Colorado had been so much more spectacular. And his own lightning had been best of all! For a moment he was caught up in fond memories.
One time a huge fireball had jumped off the top of his antenna and come rolling after him. Fascinated, he had tried to learn what caused the phenomenon. Eventually he had done what no other human ever had: he had created a fireball and held it in his hands.
Ball Lightning: a concentrated form of plasma energy.
He wished he could make one of those fireballs now. Imagine hurling one of them at the aliens! A colossal, million-volt hammer of Thor. Why, it could hurl them a million miles past Pluto. That thought improved his mood.
Well, there were some difficulties, he admitted to himself. How in the world to focus and aim such a weapon? And the power required to trigger such a device...well, he would make this his next line of study. There might be a whole fleet of alien ships somewhere up there, and they had to be destroyed.
He ate a dinner of crackers and cheese, and sat there with his chin in his hand, pondering his new project. At some point he became aware of the revolting stubble on his chin. He grimaced in disgust and decided that it was time to shave. When Clara came back,
he
would be looking his best too.
Niko heated some water on the induction burner and sharpened his shaving razor. While he waited for the water to heat, he turned on his wireless receiver. Every evening he had been checking to see if Hugo Gernsback or another experimenter might be broadcasting. But nobody in New York seemed to have a powerful enough transmitter to send a message over these mountains. He adjusted the antenna, flipped the tuner. A few bursts of static greeted him. He noticed a very odd signal at the very low end of the frequency spectrum.
He looked at his pulse detection panel and noticed a series of blips in the upper right corner.
Hmm
. The device had a range of about 250 miles. And judging by the direction of the pulses he could only assume they were coming from somewhere in the New York area. He watched the instrument with growing unease, wondering what sort of airborne devices could be bouncing his pulses back to him. Airplanes? Or...Martian ships?
His first impulse was to signal Clara, but then he thought better of it. The time was 8:30 p.m. Right now she was probably standing in front of about 100 faculty members, playing her Theremin. After he had said such mean words to her yesterday, he thought maybe she'd prefer it if he kept his distance.
He stared at the panel, but the devices did not appear to be coming any closer.
Maybe just a malfunction.
He hadn't had much time to fine-tune his instruments yet.
The sun set. Another bank of thunderclouds rolled in and Zeus began to grumble again. This time the God of Lightning put on a better showing, working himself into a fine frenzy and hurling tremendous thunderbolts at the nearby ridges. Niko ran to cover his equipment from the inevitable water leakage. He stood and watched, leaning against the doorway, as sheets of rain swept over the mountain. Hailstones pounded on the roof until Niko thought the whole dilapidated structure might collapse.
After the storm blew away, he worked for several hours by the light of a wireless induction lamp. At precisely midnight, he picked up the radio watch and signaled Clara.
No answer.
Maybe she's asleep?
There would be no sleep for him, that was for sure. He parked himself in front of his equipment until 3 a.m. Finally, when he could not sit upright any longer, he crawled under the lab table and lay down on his blanket, one arm flung over his eyes.
As he lay there, he saw Clara standing in the distance. She was not wearing her usual boys' overalls and cap. In fact, she had no clothes on at all. He felt an uncomfortable awareness that she was not really a boy—far from it! He tried to suppress his reaction. Niko always suppressed it. He could not afford the distraction, the complication of...
Then something bright slowly rose up behind her: a pearly, luminous sphere. The full moon? He looked again and saw with horror that it was...
that pearly round thing:
the Martian Orb. It emitted a deadly shriek that made his head split...
It expanded until it became the ship that had taken him. A square opened on the thing's surface...a gravity beam shot out and enveloped Clara. A long appendage seized her by the neck and pulled her inside.
No!
He woke, with heart pounding. She usually slept in the far corner, but tonight the cabin was empty. Clara was gone!
He struggled to get his breathing under control. Slowly, reality came back.
She said she was spending the night in town
.
He lay back and tried to sleep again. But when he closed his eyes, all he saw was...that
thing.
It crashed in on him at last: the terror that he had blocked out since his escape from the Martian ship. He had pushed all the fear into a corner because he had to keep moving, keep running. Now it had caught up.