Order of the Air Omnibus: Books 1-3

by Melissa Scott

  "I'll watch for you," she said, and he gave her a quick smile.

  "Thanks," he said, and then they were gone.

  Jerry turned back to the periscope, swiveling it to survey the minehead again. Still dark and still empty — no, wait, there was Tesla, the white of his collar showing clearly in the dark. He chose his spot carefully, the safe spot, where the lightning would not strike, and clasped his hands behind his back. A light flashed outside the door, the yellowish light of a car's headlight, then came again more strongly.

  "I see car lights," he said.

  "Ok." Alma's voice was steady. "Everything's ready."

  The light swung again, came to a stop with the car positioned so that a broad fan of light came in through the open door. Tesla shifted slightly, a black silhouette against the sudden brightness.

  "The car has stopped." He was falling back into wartime habits, announcing each action as though Al were his gun crew, waiting to fire. "Nothing yet — wait, there they are."

  More shapes moving against the light, two, no, four, and then a fifth, and abruptly the interior lights blazed on, freezing Kirsch's men in their tracks. They were armed, Jerry saw, but still only with pistols, and they still hadn't managed to find clothes heavy enough for the mountains. Tesla said something, and Kirsch leveled his pistol, then flinched back: Lewis had fired from the tunnel mouth. In the same moment, Tesla's hand moved behind his back, showing a single finger.

  "Fire the flash bombs," Jerry said.

  Alma flipped both switches and Jerry closed his eyes. Even through his eyelids, the flash was staggering, and he had to blink hard before he could make sense of the scene. "That's given them a shock."

  Mitch flinched at the flat crack of light and heat, saw Lewis steady his rifle, unfazed by the explosions. Kirsch's men had fallen back a little, but they were quick to realize that no one was actually hurt, and edged forward again. Kirsch leveled his pistol, and Mitch saw Lewis line up a chest shot. Not that it would necessarily save Tesla if Kirsch shot first, but it was all they could do at the moment.

  "Look, Doc, you had your chance to turn a profit on this this," Kirsch said. "You turned it down. Now all that's going to happen is you're going to get shot if you don't back off."

  "I really don't think so," Tesla answered. "I'm sorry to tell you that your employers have failed to give you significant details about this device, and about your job. I suggest that your wisest course would be to leave now."

  Mitch took a deep breath. This was his moment, his chance; he focused on fire, on the spark latent in the lighter in his pocket, on the fire leashed in Tesla's device. He could feel it building, the hairs on his hands and neck tingling. It just needed guidance, a target, just a nudge in the right direction. The nearest one, he thought, that's the target.

  "Don't make me laugh," Kirsch said. "Look, old man, we've got the guns —"

  "And I have the lightning," Tesla said. A couple of the hired men took a step back, but one of them lifted his pistol. Mitch swore under his breath, trying to shift his attention, and Tesla waved his hand.

  Bolts of light leaped from the tower as though Tesla's gesture released and directed them, the flat crack of thunder shaking the earth. At least two of them struck the man with the pistol, knocking him backward; another struck Mitch's choice, and the others lashed out apparently at random. The rest of the hired men ducked and cowered. Mitch blinked hard, partly dazzled, and saw smoke rising from the soles of the fallen men's shoes.

  "You're going to regret that," Kirsch yelled, and a couple of the hired men eased forward, trying to get on Tesla's flank. The old man's hand moved again, and a fountain of sparks erupted in their path. The leader yelped, beating at the front of his jacket, and the other man dragged him back. The fountain sputtered and died, and Mitch thought he heard an alarm clock ringing, down in the depths of the mine. He frowned, not wanting to be distracted, then realized what it must be: the warning from the road, Sampson's men in heavy trucks passing over the pressure plate buried under the snow and dirt. Ten minutes, he thought, glancing at Lewis, and Lewis nodded back, settling the rifle more comfortably against his chest.

  "No, gentlemen," Tesla said. "You and your employer are going to regret interfering with my work."

  Mitch centered himself, choosing his targets — Kirsch, for one, and then the two leaders, each one held in his mind, tagged with a flame to draw the flame.

  "Get him!" Kirsch waved his men forward. "He's just an old man —"

  Silver Bullet groaned, light running on the cables below the bulbous head. Mitch felt the lightning gather, hovering in the air, trembling beneath his skin. Tesla lifted his hand, pale blue and purple fire dancing on his fingertips. Kirsch hesitated, but the hired men were moving in, oblivious to the threat. Mitch shifted his targets, picking the three in the lead, just as the lightning burst forth. The bolts arced through the empty space, blasting the first man off his feet and sending the rest of the gang dodging for the door. Kirsch screamed a curse, and Lewis fired, a neat shot that kicked up the dirt at Kirsch's feet. He worked the bolt and fired again, chipping wood from the edge of the door, and the last of the hired men darted out into the snow. Mitch saw the flash of headlights as they got the truck into gear. Kirsch looked wildly from the door to Tesla and back again, then followed.

  "Damn," Lewis said. "It looks like we've got them."

  Mitch nodded as the truck's engine roared to life. With luck, Sampson's men would realize what was happening, stop them before they got away, but even if they didn't — "We did it," he said, and knew he sounded surprised.

  "Of course we did, darling." That was Stasi, coming up the long slope from Tesla's lab to take his arm. "Dr. Tesla wouldn't let us down."

  Mitch shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, wishing that Colonel Sampson and his men had brought coffee since they hadn't managed to stop Kirsch and his goons. But they were here, that was the main thing, a good two dozen of them milling around the minehead in the rising light, staring up at Tesla's now-inert device while Sampson tried to make sense of the story. The company medic had confirmed that the two men were dead, electrocuted, and they'd been wrapped up in canvas and stowed in the back of the unit's truck. Mitch didn't envy them the drive back to town.

  "So this is the navigation hazard you told me about?" Sampson stared uneasily at the darkened tower, the sphere at the top nearly lost in the gloom. Alma had cut the power, so at least it wasn't glowing blue and purple any more, but the guardsmen had all seen the lights crawling behind the broken windows. Outside, the sun was just rising, the sky white with cloud. "How the hell does that work?"

  Mitch hesitated. He wasn't really sure he understood that part himself, but Tesla turned to face them. He looked surprisingly alert for a seventy-three-year-old man who'd just made a cross-country flight and then been up most of the night preparing for Kirsch's arrival, almost as though the electricity had reinvigorated him.

  "Colonel — Sampson, is it? Thank you so much for your help. Your timing really was superb."

  "You're welcome," Sampson answered.

  "I'm afraid the Silver Bullet device is a hazard to aviation," Tesla went on, "and I deeply regret that it was made active. When I set up my lab here in the mountains, I thought I was far enough away from civilization to be safe, but I had no idea that mankind would advance so rapidly. And particularly aircraft! Why, when I had my laboratory here, the Wright brothers were working with kites and gliders. It's remarkable how far the field has advanced in only thirty years."

  Sampson looked up at the tower again. "So this shoots out a beam of lightning and knocks planes out of the sky? Like in the funny papers?"

  Tesla looked blank.

  Mitch said, "Buck Rogers? The Han disintegrator ray?" He saw Sampson's grin, and shook his head. "Never mind."

  "Well, clearly it doesn't disintegrate anything," Tesla said. "That's another project, using completely different principles."

  "Is it," Sampson said, his voice flat. "So what
does this thing do?"

  "It could conceivably knock down a low-flying plane," Tesla conceded. "A direct hit would be quite damaging, I imagine, particularly at a low altitude where the pilot had little time to recover. But I believe the significant effects are from the larger electromagnetic field and/or the radio blast it generates."

  "It interferes with radio," Mitch said, to Sampson. "And it also knocks out any electrically-powered instruments and controls on board. We were just lucky we were in the Terrier when we got hit. I haven't upgraded all her systems yet."

  "Sounds like that was a good thing," Sampson said, and Mitch nodded.

  "Yes, sir."

  Tesla said, "Of course, any sufficiently strong electrical current will interfered with radio transmissions and other electrical equipment in the area, and if it's strong enough, it will overload and knock out other systems. The difference here is that it can be focused and directed. At least to an extent."

  Like when you waved your hand and threw the lightning? Mitch thought. He was all too aware that not all the damage in the minehead had been his own.

  "And if you lose instruments up here, even for a little…" Sampson shook his head. "And a lot of these newer planes, they have electrical controls, actuators and such."

  "Yeah," Mitch said. He could still taste the terror, seeing half the instruments dead and feeling the Terrier heavy and sluggish under his touch. Good as he knew he was, they were still lucky to have gotten out alive and with the plane in one piece.

  "That is not what it was meant to do." Tesla looked genuinely distressed. "I can only assure you of that."

  "So how did it get turned on?" Sampson demanded. "I mean, I'm sure you didn't leave it running — and anyway, it couldn't have been running all this time, or we'd have had trouble before this."

  "I don't know." Tesla looked even more unhappy. "I had set up the system so that I could trigger it remotely, by radio from my lab in Colorado Springs — the whole point of the experiment was the wireless transmission of power, and I was hoping to cross the gap, so to speak. Without, of course, any of the unfortunate side effects."

  Like electrifying the sewers, Mitch thought. He'd heard the story from four or five different guys in the Legion, and he had to admit that Alma's version sounded positively sober by comparison. "Colonel, I was thinking — maybe it was Rayburn's flight? I got the impression they were doing some kind of radio direction-finding test…"

  Sampson held up his hand. "That's classified, Major. But — yeah, that makes some sense."

  "I'll need to have this dismantled," Tesla said. "I don't really want to leave the components here, not after someone has demonstrated the lengths they're willing to go to get their hands on it."

  "Yes, about that," Sampson said. "Any idea who they might have been?"

  "Thugs," Tesla said. "Ignorant thugs."

  "I think I can guarantee the whole thing will pass as an unfortunate accident," Sampson said. "If those boys were dumb enough to run in while that thing was running — well, they were just lucky they weren't all killed."

  Mitch saw Tesla glance at him, and met the look with his most dopey grin. Tesla's mouth twitched, but he looked back at Sampson. "I have any number of competitors, Colonel, and most of them would go this far if they thought they could get away with it. I only wish I could be more specific — but I'm more grateful that I can say for your help."

  Sampson looked dubious, but Tesla's attention was already back on the device.

  "I wouldn't have to take everything, of course. Just the dome from the top of the tower, and the torus, plus a few of the control components from the lab itself. The rest will be perfectly harmless if left here."

  Sampson shook his head. "Tell you what, Dr. Tesla. How about my men help you collect those pieces, and then we can crate them up and take them back into town? I'm sure the sheriff — what's his name, Sorley?"

  "Donnelly."

  "Would be happy to lock them up in the jail until you can arrange to take them back to New York." Sampson gave a crooked smile. "I can't imagine he'd have much business over Christmas."

  "Probably not," Mitch agreed. He looked up at the tower, and suppressed a groan at the thought of taking it all apart. At least it would be warmer working down in the lab.

  "Not you, Sorley," Sampson said, and Mitch started. "You and Segura have done your share — done a damn good job, in fact, given what you're dealing with here. Not to mention that you're beat. Why don't you take the ladies and head back into town?"

  "Thank you, sir," Mitch said. "I won't say no."

  Sampson turned away, frowning up at the tower, and Tesla edged closer. "I appreciate your assistance last night," he said quietly, "but I am very curious as to how you did it."

  Mitch hesitated, not at all sure what he wanted to say. He didn't really feel like telling one of America's leading scientists that he'd actually used magic, and he wasn't going to think up anything technical that would have a snowball's chance in hell of fooling Tesla. "You were throwing that lightning yourself. How'd you do that?"

  Tesla's back stiffened. "That would be a trade secret, Mr. Sorley."

  "So's what I did," Mitch answered.

  Tesla's eyebrows rose sharply but then he smiled. "I'll speak to Mrs. Segura, then."

  "That would be best," Mitch said.

  "Dr. Tesla," Sampson called, and Tesla turned away.

  Alma and Stasi emerged from the tunnel sharing Alma's mink, Lewis following with the faint smile he'd worn since the night before, and Jerry limping at his heels.

  "If you'd drive me and Al to the clearing," Lewis said, "we'll get the Frontiersman home."

  Alma seemed to struggle for a moment, then shrugged out of her half of the fur coat. "You'd better have this," she said. "It's a longer drive back."

  "Oh, thank you, darling," Stasi said, and a wicked smile flickered across her lips. Somehow she'd managed to repair her lipstick, and the scarlet was brilliant against her snow-white skin. "I think I'll be all right, with two gentlemen to keep me warm."

  I'll keep you warm any day. Mitch swallowed the words as inappropriate, especially since Jerry would be riding with them, and nodded to Lewis. "Sure thing."

  "It'll be good to be home," Jerry said, and they made their way toward Alma's truck.

  Chapter Sixteen

  December 24, 1932

  Colorado Springs

  Lewis was finishing up reading for Stasi, a nice easy practice reading on what she was doing the coming weekend, perfect for learning to use Tarot cards. He turned the last card over carefully, just in case it was something dreadful. "Two of cups?" he said doubtfully. The picture showed a man and a woman toasting each other with big goblets. This must be one of those where you could just look at the card and tell the story. "You're going to a party and people are going to drink and make toasts?"

  Stasi smiled. "That doesn't take much prognostication, darling, since we're all going to the dance at the American Legion tonight. I'm assuming there will be drinks!"

  "So this card means a party?" Lewis asked.

  "That's one thing it might mean," Stasi began.

  Alma came in frowning and laid the newspaper Mitch had brought back from Salt Lake on the table. "This is really disturbing," she said. "I've been reading through the whole thing."

  "Yes," Jerry said, coming through the kitchen door with Mitch behind him. "But it makes a lot of sense to people who are desperate." He looked like he was searching for words, leaning heavily on his cane, gold-rimmed glasses catching the light. "A couple of weeks ago I was in the Automat," he said. "And there was a man and a woman and a little girl about six. The little girl and the woman were splitting one plate between them while the man-made soup out of hot water and ketchup. The problems are real, Al."

  "Do you think Roosevelt can fix it?"

  Jerry took a deep breath. "I think he'd better. If we don't fix it soon, things are going in a very bad direction. Pelley's going to start seeming reasonable to a lot of people who aren't
crazy or evil."

  Lewis frowned. "If I had to see my child in want like that, with no job or way to make a living…."

  "Extreme solutions would start seeming reasonable," Jerry said.

  "They always do," Stasi said quietly. "And then the things that the consumers will do to hang on to the status quo get more extreme in turn."

  "We're not there yet," Mitch said. "And maybe we won't be."

  Alma didn't take her eyes away from Jerry. "And you think Nostradamus is right that there's going to be a war bigger than the Great War in 1939?"

  "I don't know, Al," Jerry said. "I don't know if it's truly inevitable, or just possible."

  Alma turned around. "Can you read on it?" she asked. "Stasi? Is that possible? If it's as big and inevitable as all that, it ought to be like reading to see if a mountain is there."

  "I can try." Stasi took the cards back from Lewis, and he watched her shuffle. Knowing more, he understood why her face went blank, eyes closed as her hands moved. He could almost feel the ripples spreading out, her question radiating from a center point like radio waves from a transmitter. What will happen? Will there be war?

  Her eyes were still closed when she turned the center card, the wheel of fortune. Stasi opened her eyes and touched it with one forefinger. "Anything can happen. Nothing is inevitable. Everything is in motion, everything up in the air."

  She turned the second card. "The chariot," she said. "The chariot of state is driven by the king, the white horse and the black harnessed together. It is his decisions that prevent the chariot from wrecking."

  "It's up to Roosevelt," Mitch said, nodding. "It depends on what he does."

  "I'd say so." Stasi turned the card for the past, the man dangling upside down. "There have been sacrifices. The Great War."

  And on a personal level, Lewis thought. Stasi was reading this as though it were for nations, but it was also for them.

  "In the present, the nine of wands," she said. "A pause in the struggle. The calm before the storm." Her long fingers flipped the next card and laid it out.