Son of Tesla

SON OF TESLA: Chapter 41

PETAR IMMEDIATELY RAISED HIS arms in the air, hands open, palms facing the soldiers, disarming smile on his face. He caught Jem's eye and widened his own slightly. Follow my lead, the glance said. Jem got the hint and raised his own arms in a stance identical to Petar's.

The officer at the front of the men took a step forward, still smiling.

"You remember me, I'm sure," he said.

"Damien Samil," said Petar flatly. "Four-star general in the United States Army and five-star asshole."

Samil worked his jaw back and forth. The man had the sense of humor of a drowning honey badger. Petar would sooner stick his hand in a basket full of cobras than provoke him. But he didn't have many options. He let his hands dip and a round of clicks signaled the soldiers stiffening and bringing their rifles higher. Definitely on edge. Definitely a shortage of options.

The two groups, Samil and his contingent and Jem and Petar, stood at one end of a long, capacious room about the breadth of a high school basketball gym and at least four times as long as one. The entire lab appeared to be a single room, but Petar knew there had to be at least one other section. Even on Volos, Petar's father always conducted oscillation experiments in a sealed chamber separated from his main lab. It was too dangerous to risk the rest of the sensitive equipment.

That's where he needed to go to open the breach to Volos.

Getting there might be a problem, though.

The single large room was separated into roughly two sections, more by atmosphere than by any concrete barriers. The far end appeared to be a semi-storage area. Temporary, by the looks of it. Machines and tables of lab equipment were bunched into groups, along the walls and in clusters on the floor, with the remaining space transformed into a series of walkways that cut through them.

The side on which they stood was set up like an active engineering laboratory. A modern, active laboratory. Instead of a century's worth of dust and industrial-age equipment, Petar saw shining countertops, state-of-the-art glassware. A string of gray eighty-kilowatt generators stood on individual trailers along the long wall to Petar's left, stopping before the halfway point, where the temporary storage area began. They were massive, each one about the size of a minivan. One gave off a gentle hum; it must be supplying the overhead lights, Petar figured.

The rest of the space, both floor and countertop, was covered in gadgets. Some were familiar to Petar, some weren't. A large Jacob's ladder meant for building spark gaps was mounted on a table along the right side of the room. Beside it was a mass of wound copper coils that Petar couldn't quite place. After a short gap to allow for a nest of electrical wires and surge protectors on the floor, another table held a circular magnet rail that was piped into a tank of liquid nitrogen. Quantum attractor, Petar guessed.

Similar apparatus littered a series of tables arranged at drunken angles all through the center of the floor. And in the center of the work area loomed a fifteen-foot Tesla coil. It towered behind the squad of nervous soldiers like a dark giant waiting to come to life after a long sleep.

"You found the lab," Petar ventured.

"Of course," Samil sneered. "We've known about this place for years. It's yielded some very interesting technologies."

"And you knew I'd be coming here."

"I had my suspicions, sure."

"So that means you believed me!" Petar almost leaped forward and strangled him. A half-step forward from the rifle brigade stopped him.

"Life does not revolve around beliefs, Mr. Tesla. It revolves around the facts. And the fact is, we've been expecting something like this for some time. I'll say it again: It's about time you showed up."