Time Travel Omnibus Volume 2

by Anthology

  “You would need a man to steer it.” Berzgi saw Tesla turn wary and knew he had trod on sensitive areas.

  “Not necessarily. My radio waves can control as well as power.”

  “They can do anything,” Berzgi said.

  “I think that is so.”

  “They cannot do one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?” Tesla asked.

  “Enjoy a bottle of beer. Here, my friend, I brought you one, also.” Berzgi fished two brown glass bottles from his coat pockets and handed one to Tesla. “We should toast your fine demonstration of . . . almost shaking the entire island apart.”

  “The world,” Tesla said, taking the bottle and looking at it critically. He reached into his pocket, drew out a screwdriver and deftly skewered the cork and pulled it out. As he lifted the bottle in toast, the outer door exploded inward.

  Both Tesla and Berzgi swung about, spilling their beer.

  “Git yer hands where we kin see ’em,” came the shouted order. Four policemen trained their pistols on the pair.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Tesla demanded. He handed the beer to Berzgi and then froze. The policemen cocked their pistols and obviously longed to pull the triggers.

  “That’s the device responsible, officers,” came a querulous voice from outside. “I want him arrested!”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Edison,” said an officer with lieutenant’s bars on his collar. He entered the warehouse a pace ahead of the inventor. Edison pushed past him and pointed.

  “That’s the generator he used. He could have destroyed the entire city!”

  “But all he did destroy was your—whatcha call it?—electrical turbine generator.”

  “That’s right, Lieutenant. He did it deliberately.”

  “You did this?” Berzgi asked, his eyes wide. His answer came in the tiny smile dancing on Tesla’s lips.

  “Cuff ’im, boys,” the lieutenant said, folding his arms across his barrel-chest. “Take the bastard to the Tombs.”

  “Where are you taking him?” asked Berzgi, pushed aside.

  “Centre Street and Leonard,” Tesla said, still grinning. “Edison has sent me there before.”

  “I’ll get a lawyer,” Berzgi cried. “You cannot be—”

  “Shut up or we’ll run you in as an accessory,” Edison called. “I’ll have my crew here within the hour. There won’t be a stone left on this block by the end of the week.”

  “You can’t do that!” Tesla struggled for the first time, trying to get his shackled hands around Edison’s throat. “This is all I have in the world. Every penny was spent building my generator.”

  “Your deadly generator,” Edison said haughtily. “I am doing the city and state of New York a great favor destroying everything here. They pose a great threat to the public.”

  “Only to your worthless direct current generators!”

  “You heard his confession, Lieutenant. Take him away!” Edison looked on with satisfaction as the police shoved Tesla from his warehouse. Berzgi watched for a moment, then picked up the cork from the beer Tesla had opened and stuffed it back into the bottle’s neck. With his own bottle securely returned to his coat pocket, he left amid the clicking of the bottles and Edison’s gloating laughter.

  “I should have remained in jail,” Tesla said, dejected. He stared at the destroyed warehouse. Not one single strand of electrical wire remained of his equipment. Edison’s workmen had spent the past three days assiduously removing the equipment and then razing the building. “There is nothing for me here.”

  “You did not belong in jail,” Berzgi said. “I had to get you out, even if it did cost one hundred dollars.”

  Tesla’s dark eyes bored into Berzgi’s.

  “So much? Where did you get so much money?”

  Berzgi averted his eyes, taking in the piles of brick and the lingering cloud of mortar dust from the wrecking ball. He summoned his courage and faced Tesla. The man’s intent gaze had not wavered for an instant and made Berzgi feel as if he might be reduced to a smoking mound of fat.

  “Not everyone thinks Edison is right.”

  “Westinghouse is dead. No one else will speak to me because of Edison. I went to the banker Morgan, and he refused me. I approached the War Department advisory board, but Edison has a seat on it and they denied my application for development money.”

  “For the death ray?”

  “Death ray? Oh, that?” Tesla laughed harshly. “It was no death ray. I could build one, of course, but this—” he pointed dramatically at the rubble, “was only to inconvenience Edison and show the world how unsuitable his electrical equipment is.”

  “You blew out every light bulb on the circuit,” Berzgi said.

  “Circuit, eh? You are learning from me, is that it, Berzgi? I would hire you as an assistant, had I a laboratory.”

  “You say the War Department turned down your applications for money?”

  “It was Edison’s doing,” Tesla said, waving his long-fingered hand in dismissal. “As was having me fired from my job. But finding another laborer’s job will not be hard. Repaying you will be, however.”

  “It was not my money. Come with me, Nikolai. I want to show you something.”

  Tesla followed in silence, brooding. Berzgi wended his way through the maze of streets on the East Side until he came to the spot where he had been once before. He fumbled in his pocket and took out a shiny key for the new lock on the door. Berzgi took a deep breath to quiet the pounding of his pulse, inserted the key, turned and swung the door open for Tesla.

  Tesla stepped inside, then stopped so fast that Berzgi ran into him. Tesla recoiled as if he had been shot.

  “My hair, don’t touch my hair,” he said, backing off. He recovered some of his composure and pointed at the laboratory stocked with equipment. “What is this?”

  “Yours, Nikolai. All yours, to do with as you see fit.”

  “But how is it possible?”

  “You are an American citizen, but you were born in the old country. Austria-Hungary laments the loss of such a brilliant scientist,” came a grating voice. “You can show your gratitude for my generosity in, as they say, ‘springing you from jail’ and for the use of this equipment by revealing the nature of your experiment. The one Berzgi claims was responsible for destruction of Edison’s plant.”

  “Who are you?” Tesla faced the squarely built, mustached man, who barely came to the scientist’s chin. The man wore a plain black coat, pants pressed with creases rivaling a cavalry saber’s sharp blade and boots so highly polished they might have been mirrored.

  “You are out of uniform,” Tesla went on.

  “You recognize me? Good.” The man clicked his heels and bowed slightly. “Duke Leopold Gottel.”

  “I did not recognize you personally, but as a military man,” Tesla said. “I am a loyal American. No matter what Edison and the War Department decide, I will not furnish weapons to a foreign power.”

  “Of course not, and we are not asking for that. But can you claim I represent a foreign power, when you were born in Smiljan? Your education was in Austria-Hungary and what family remains—condolences on the deaths of your beloved parents—is in our homeland.”

  “You rescued me from prison and will give me this to do what, then?”

  “The world changes rapidly as we enter the last ten years of this aging century. Political alliances ebb and flow throughout Europe. Austria-Hungary will not be destroyed by powers, shall we say, inimical to us. You would not want to see that, would you, Herr Tesla?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Berzgi watched the byplay and felt as if he drowned. The intent expression on Tesla’s face as he stared at the banks of equipment convinced Berzgi that the scientist would relent and work for Gottel. That was good. He had been promised a huge sum of money to convince Tesla, but even as how he would spend the money came to him, Berzgi began to grow uneasy about his friend and what Gottel wanted from him.

  “All we desire
is a chance to use your inventions for peaceful purposes. Berzgi has mentioned how you are able to send electrical power to an airship, so that no fuel storage is required. Is this so?”

  “It is,” Tesla said. He stepped forward and laid his hand on the cold metal side of an equipment rack. It was as if a powerful magnet drew him to the new apparatus.

  “Think of how Austria-Hungary will prosper if our fleets of dirigibles and airships can carry tons more cargo. We will become the trading power of the continent!”

  “There is that benefit, yes,” Tesla said distantly. Berzgi began to worry about him.

  “You will do this work for the duke, then?” Berzgi asked anxiously.

  “On one condition, Duke,” Tesla said, as if he had not heard Berzgi.

  The duke warily answered, “Most conditions can be met.”

  “Berzgi must be my assistant.”

  Berzgi stood, open mouthed. Duke Leopold laughed heartily and started to slap Tesla on the shoulder. Berzgi stopped him in time, sternly shaking his head. The flare of anger in the duke’s eyes faded as he heard Tesla’s words.

  “A broadcast unit—for cargo airships, of course—can be built and tested by the end of the month.”

  “Excellent. Whatever you require, let me know. Let Berzgi know and he will tell me,” Gottel said, but Tesla had pulled up a chair and faced a bank of dials and knobs.

  “So much calibration needed. Who was the fool who installed such fine equipment, then did not calibrate it?”

  Gottel snorted, nodded brusquely to Berzgi, then left the scientist to his work.

  The heat of summer finally escaped the city, leaving behind a grudging warmth that still, yet, refused to give way to winter. Momentarily blocking the lukewarm sun, the ten-foot-long dirigible drove itself ever higher into the cloudless sky on quiet electric motors. Tesla stood on the rooftop of his laboratory, hands clasped behind his back, staring upward.

  “More power,” he ordered Berzgi. “I would see how high the model can climb before the engine is out of range shuts down.”

  “It is at a thousand feet now, Nikolai,” came Berzgi’s worried voice. “We dare not go much higher.”

  “Higher,” Tesla insisted. “It will go five times this. Ten!”

  Berzgi slowly turned the rheostat, broadcasting more power to the aerial balloon. He grabbed binoculars and scanned the sky until he caught sight of the reflector-laden mini-dirigible. Even with the bright disks shining in the clear sky, he almost lost track of it.

  “It is very high,” he said anxiously. “I have lost contact with it.”

  “What altitude?”

  Berzgi worked feverishly on the panel, then said, “Six thousand feet. The signal is too weak to supply enough electricity to keep the props turning.”

  “Six thousand feet,” mused Tesla. He began to pace on the rooftop. Then he stopped and clapped loudly, applauding himself. “Excellent! The prototype can be scaled up to even greater distances.”

  “How great?”

  Berzgi dropped his binoculars in surprise. He had not heard Gottel come out onto the tar-papered roof.

  “Duke, I was not aware you—”

  “How far can you broadcast your power, Herr Tesla?” Gottel ignored Berzgi, as he had for the past three months. This irritated Berzgi because he had recruited Tesla’s talents for the duke and now was no longer necessary, except as a conduit for tidbits Tesla forgot to pass along. He had learned much and contributed to the effort. Without him, Tesla would not have progressed this much!

  “There would be no trouble powering even the most dynamic electric engine, in line of sight,” Tesla said. “An entire fleet could be powered from a single transmitter.”

  “An armada of dirigibles,” the duke said, a glow coming to his eyes that worried Berzgi.

  “Large ones,” Tesla said. “Ones capable of carrying ten or even twenty tons of cargo.”

  “But only if they remain in sight of the transmitter,” Gottel said. “This would require a network of transmitters.”

  “Is this a problem?” Tesla asked. “If you establish a cargo route between, say Vienna and Berlin or Vienna and Paris, transmitters are easily placed along the way.”

  “Mountaintops, towers, other elevations, increase the range,” Gottel said, “but some countries might be unwilling to allow such radio broadcast units on their sovereign soil.”

  “I’ve considered this,” Tesla said. He paced as he got the strange, distant expression Berzgi had come to know and dread. Tesla thought. Hard. No problem was beyond him in this state. Uneasy now, Berzgi started to stop the scientist from solving this dilemma but was too late.

  “An aerial unit. Place a broadcast unit in a large dirigible and loft it. Six thousand feet? That is possible, although lower might be preferable. From this airborne laboratory can be sent radio waves in all directions. Relay units would be cheaper than actual generating units. Yes, yes, leave the generators on the ground and relay the power through a series of tethered dirigibles.”

  “Heavier than air flights will be possible one day soon,” said Gottel.

  “Think of the weight you can save using my electric motors and this,” Tesla said, placing his hand on the housing of the power broadcast unit.

  “A fleet of great airships that darken the sky as they fly off to . . . their missions,” Gottel finished lamely.

  “Off to their wars,” Berzgi said under his breath.

  The sun began slipping lower in the west, hidden by taller buildings now. Tesla walked to the verge of the roof and looked down.

  “See that,” he said, pointing to the light bulbs already on in the building across the street.

  “They waste Edison’s power,” Gottel said, “turning on their lights so early. It is still daylight.”

  “You don’t understand,” Tesla said. “Those are lit by induction. By the same broadcast that powers that.” He looked up into the sky. The small test vehicle was slowly spiraling downward, under Berzgi’s now expert control. In a few more minutes the hydrogen-filled dirigible would be securely moored to a pole on the roof.

  “They steal your power? Our power?” asked Gottel.

  “It’s theirs for the taking. The radio waves are broadcast, sent out in all directions.”

  “Another enem . . .” Gottel coughed to cover himself. “Another cargo dirigible could use our power?”

  “Yes,” Tesla said.

  “That is not acceptable. Only Austro-Hungarian airships must be powered by the ground generators!”

  Tesla pursed his lips, thought for a moment, then said, “There is a possibility of ‘locking’ the power broadcast.”

  “How is this done?”

  “You could broadcast only on a specific frequency,” Berzgi said, in spite of himself. “Your airships are attuned to this frequency. None other would be.”

  “This is possible?” demanded Gottel.

  “Berzgi has become quite the inventor,” Tesla said. He walked to a coop of pigeons he kept on the roof and reached inside, letting one ride on his finger. He looked at the bird for an uncomfortably silent minute before speaking. “It can be done. I see the blueprints perfectly in my mind.” He stroked the pigeon’s feathers, then returned it to the chicken-wire cage.

  “I must have them immediately. Things on the continent require immediate use of this invention.”

  “Do you have an airship constructed that can accept my relays and electric motors?”

  “Half a hundred,” Gottel said, his eyes burning like coals. “Give me the blueprints and they will be airborne within six weeks.”

  “Quite a chore,” Tesla said. “The transmitters need to be built, but they are far easier to construct than the airships themselves. How large would this fleet be?”

  “Fifty,” the duke repeated. “Of cargo ships.”

  “Yes, of cargo ships,” Tesla said. He walked across the roof to examine the mini-airship that had finally returned to its mooring. A quick examination of the radio controlled
and powered engine caused him to nod in satisfaction.

  “I will take this unit and that airship,” Gottel said.

  “These are what you will use?”

  “They are. You don’t need them. Berzgi will give the plans. That is a better way of getting the information to your principals.”

  “You still hate Edison?”

  The duke’s question took Tesla by surprise.

  “He is not my friend.”

  “You would do him harm?” the duke pressed. “He and those who support him, like the American War Department?”

  “I do not wish him harm,” Tesla said slowly, “but I do not wish him well, either.”

  “A death ray need not be aimed at him,” Gottel said slyly. “It would be useful against his equipment, much as your other death ray was.”

  “Perhaps, yes,” Tesla said, looking across the street at the burning light bulbs—powered by his broadcast unit. He snapped his fingers. Berzgi cut the power and the lights died. Gottel failed to recognize the significance of the action.

  “Nikolai, I have been your friend these past months,” Berzgi began. His mind tumbled over and over, turning once coherent ideas into a churning mess.

  “You have found a better job. So, take it. I can pay little more. You know all my money goes into my experiments.” Tesla flipped a switch and produced corona discharges throughout the laboratory.

  “This death ray of yours—”

  “It’s not a death ray. You and Gottel must stop calling it that.” He turned off the beamed energy and motioned for Berzgi to follow him to the roof where a new experiment had been set up. Berzgi followed Tesla up the steep iron stairs, every footstep clanging like a gong.

  “It is Gottel,” Berzgi said, rushing ahead with what amounted to reason against his homeland. “He has fooled you. He’s using you to produce weapons for our country—for our old country. There is great political unrest in Europe.”

  “I know,” Tesla said.

  “You do not know, my friend. And you are my friend. A good one. I am privileged to work with you. That’s not what I want to say.” Berzgi made shooing motions, as if driving off flies. “There will be war in Europe soon. Prussia, the Balkans, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, all against Western Europe. The duke is building a fleet of airships to take part in that war. They will be invincible! Because of you!”