Nikola Tesla never died. From the moment he stepped through the Breach, he began to change into something evil. Now, his son Petar has escaped the nightmare world of Volos to warn Earth of Tesla's imminent attack. The only problem is, nobody believe...
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GENERAL DAMIEN SAMIL WATCHED an ant wander across the surface of his desk while he listened to the tinny voice coming through the telephone receiver.
"Yes sir, that's the way it looks," he said calmly, then pulled the receiver back a few inches as a raucuos stream of angry shouts thundered out of its mesh speaker.
The ant paused to inspect an invisible morsel, then continued its erratic path across the wide expanse of polished oak stretched out before it. General Samil followed it with his eyes.
"No sir, that shouldn't happen, no," he said into the phone, then grimaced and shut his eyes. Although the shades were drawn, the dim light in the office was starting to make his head throb. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and picked out a translucent orange plastic bottle. Hugging the phone to his ear with his shoulder, he twisted off the white cap and shook two small yellow tablets into his palm, then threw them into his mouth and tossed back his head.
"That's right, sir. We'll find him, no doubt about that."
A pause.
"Kill him, most likely."
Samil winced again as the earpiece erupted in faint laughter, then abruptly went dead. He rested the phone in its cradle.
The ant reached the edge of the desk and turned back the way it had come. Damien Samil sat back in the wide-backed leather chair, his eyes on the forlorn insect, his face thoughtful.
After a few minutes, Samil reached forward and plucked the ant off the desk. Pinching it by the abdomen, he held it up in front of his eyes. This close, Samil could see its forelegs waving uselessly in the air, its tiny mandibles opening and snapping shut over nothing. Such a delicate creature, yet so strong in a group. Alone, caught between Samil's fingers, it was insignificant and weak. But with millions of brothers at its back, it was the strongest thing on Earth.
Samil savored the paradox. He tightened his fingers, and the legs waved faster, growing frantic. Its middle two legs pushed at the balls of Samil's fingers as it struggled to free itself. It had a mind, but its actions were only instinct, the animal collective of its programming.
In that way, Samil thought, it was like a person.
The ant's legs continued to spasm weakly long after Samil had crushed its body and dropped it to the floor.
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