|
Brent glanced
at the clock on the control room wall for about the thirtieth time. It seemed like four hours since his coffee
break. Tonight was the assault
on the power plant beneath the dam. Brent
and Jeff had worked all day Sunday then well into the night, then again
Monday night until nearly two a.m. They
were not done yet. It took Jeff
all of Sunday to do the Field Collector diagnostics.
He told Brent that on his lunch hour Monday he did some research
on the Kinzua dam hydroelectric power plant.
Plant capacity
was fifteen hundred megawatts, fed through four sets of high-tension transmission
lines. Assuming equal loading, each transmission line
would carry three hundred and seventy-five megawatts. They would have a ninety percent probability
of starting the Field Collector in twenty-one minutes after hook up. It was such a short hop from Jeff's barn, less
than five miles, that most of the residual charge in the Flux Field Generator
could be used to flee, if needed. In
all the variations of the new phenomenon, he had never tried to build
any offensive weapons. His homemade
spaceship, the Dawn Treader,
had no offensive weaponry at all. The
Dawn Treader could not shoot down a housefly.
He had discovered
an extremely potent defensive weapon however.
He dubbed it a Compression Zone Shield.
It was characterized by a shell like region of space where the
flow of time was faster than space normal.
The shell was only about six inches thick while the surface area
could be quite large. The coils
that Brent had so laboriously buried around his property were part of
the Compression Zone Shield that would protect them from the outside world
when he used his eight probes.
The shield
was impervious to mass traversing it.
Any projectile impacting the shield would run into an exponentially
growing repulsive force, an anti-gravity force.
The further into the shield an object penetrated the stronger the
force became as a function of the square of the intruding object's rest
mass. The projectile would slow, finally exhausting
its kinetic energy, then rebound out of the zone along a reverse path.
Jeff had discovered that an object collision with the shield was
perfectly elastic. The object rebounded from the shield with precisely
the velocity it had when it encountered the shield.
Jeff believed
that no mass traveling slower than a threshold speed could get through. That threshold speed was very, very high.
The feature Jeff found most fascinating about the shield was that
you could not feel it, even when pressing firmly against it.
It had no texture, no temperature, and no friction.
Jeff almost dislocated his shoulder once when he was pushing against
the shield and unknowingly got a little off center.
His arm shot off in one direction without warning.
The simple
aluminum hull of the Dawn Treader,
when connected properly to the Field Collector, generated a Compression
Zone Shield about three to six inches away from the hull around the entire
ship. They would go to Kinzua
naked and defenseless. They would
return unassailable, "at least in theory", he said to Brent. Brent hated it when Jeff added a qualifier
to statements that made him feel better.
While Jeff
ran his tests on the Field Collector, Brent bolted the Time Flux Field
generator into the compartment behind the Dawn
Treader's cockpit. Then he
and Jeff wired it into the ship=s control panel.
Brent noticed the Dawn Treader
had virtually no warning or navigation
systems. There was no radar, no telemetry, not even
a compass. It did have a CB radio,
somehow that did not help relieve his jittery nerves. Jeff assured him that once the probes were in place they could locate
a hummingbird a hundred miles away. Moreover,
while it was true that they would be helpless, dumb, and blind this first
trip, no one was looking for them either. They had the advantage of surprise.
Brent looked
at the control room clock again. It
was fifteen minutes to lunch and he was sweating like a man in a steam
chest. Several hundred yards from where Brent sat
toughing it out, Jeff was having similar and more profound problems. He was trying to concentrate on the design
of a new pump station for the railroad loading docks and was failing miserably.
Brent had been in the project less than a month and had Jeff to
walk him through it. Jeff had been in it full time for years and
had made it up as he went. He
could not quite convince himself that years of painstaking and difficult
work would finally come to fruition tonight.
What if he
had overlooked something? What
if the Field Collector would not start?
It was maddening to take such an awful risk.
He found himself on the edge of calling. calling who? He did not
know. Anyone who was more qualified
to deal with this wonder than Jeff Hopewell.
What if his grand plan was a major disaster? (Possibly a cataclysmic disaster, he grimly reminded himself.)
What if the Government didn't see it his way eventually?
He had to talk about it to someone or explode from the anxiety. He informed his secretary that he was feeling ill and was going
home. He left the plant and drove
straight to Linda's office.
Linda was surprised
to see him when he walked in. "I
need to talk," he said. Linda
led him into her office and shut the door.
"Linda",
Jeff started, "it's here. Not
even I really thought this moment would come.
Yeah, I've dedicated myself to it but now.,@ he trailed off, then
collected his thoughts,
"When
all this started for me back in college, when ideals still look possible,
you dance with platitudes. Do
you remember innocence? I do. I was. I
think a piece of me still is. I
war with myself; part of me is a cynical son-of-a-bitch determined to
force my morality on an unappreciative world, part of me is a wide eyed
child simply knowing that what I do is Right as judged by that Noble Spirit
that so many of us try so hard to ignore.@
He stepped
to the window and looked out at the gently paced busy of people on the
street below.
"I want
to do the right thing. But, like
most people, I have almost no understanding of the subtle and complex
ways this relates to that. Foggy,
shortsighted reasoning is responsible for so many stupid, evil things.
Is my reasoning sound? I
understand the tech of what I've made, but do I understand the spirit? I want to help, to do the right thing, but
what if I'm wrong."
"The right
thing?" She asked softly. "Isn't it something you have to do?
Isn't it something only you can do?
I don't know the extent of your plan, but I know you are not doing
it malevolently. Not for money, not for power, but because you really believe its
the best thing to do for your fellow man.
It is obvious to me that you have leapt ahead. Who is arrogant enough to concede that you have the brilliance to
build such a wonder, but not the wit to know what to do with it? Not me. But
I will keep you out of prison if I can. Tell me, what are the probes? Maybe
I could help more if I knew."
"You won't
believe me.", he said simply.
"After
I saw your engine, I would believe anything.
Please tell me. Besides,
I can't tell anyone else no matter what it is."
He had a far
away look. He sighed then locked
his eyes on hers. "Attorney
client relationship? OK, here
it is. The probes are really satellites." He paused.
"The purpose of the Dawn
Treader is to put them in their proper orbit, though they do have
enough maneuvering power to stay in a fixed position orbit after they're
placed. I'm sort of a one man NASA you might say.
Once in orbit they have several different functions, but their
primary function is easily the most illegal, the most likely to land your
boyfriend in profound trouble." She became incredulous,
"Profound
trouble? Like what you're already
planning is just regular trouble?"
Jeff gave a soft, short chuckle,
"Like
the eternal of the ocean to the potspot of a puddle. It would be trouble that mere Law cannot address, that a thousand
years cannot undo. The raging
insanity of suicide bombers, intentional famines, murderous attacks, and
screaming, blood lusting mobs could be something to yearn after and embrace
as an old friend." He stopped
talking when he noticed the growing look of alarm on Linda's face, that
kernel of fear that too often blossoms into rash and destructive action. Once again, he felt as if he had said too much. "Granted, that's a worst case scenario",
he added.
"It will
take approximately ten hours for the probes to complete mapping and coordinate
designations, once that is finished, and on my command, the entire operation
will be complete in thirty-four minutes.
They won't even know it is happening until it is finished. Then boy will they be pissed." His eyes became glassy. He seemed to look far away, as if he were about
to cry. Linda knew that all she
had to do was be quiet. It was
coming.
"I'm going
to steal every single nuclear weapon on the planet, from anyone who has
one. If I’m successful, no country will have any.
Not even a small one. Not even the material required to build one.
Then I am going to detonate every damned one of them in deep space,
about three quarters of the way to the moon, so the detonations will be
visible on Earth and everyone will know the World has changed."
Linda's jaw
dropped. This was Jeff's idea
of profound trouble? He continued,
"Then I am going to enforce the international boundaries as agreed
upon by the United Nations. I
will destroy, from space, any military hardware seen attacking a neighboring
nation state with no exceptions, period."
Linda still was unable to respond.
Jeff looked at her.
"I'm going
to destroy war, Linda."
"You can't!"
She finally stammered.
"That's
the hell of it" Jeff responded.
"I can. I have figured
it all out. The first couple of
months are going to be the most critical, when things may get weird."
"The first
couple of months? Have you lost
your mind!"?, she blurted out.
"They'll be on you in full force in hours, they'll destroy
you Jeff." Tears welled up
in her eyes; "you'll die as soon as they figure it out. They'll kill you. With alacrity."
"Linda,
how will they kill me? They will
not be able to penetrate the shield.
Brent thinks I built it to keep out the Dunuski's.
I built it to keep out the United States Army, and it will."
"Then
they'll nuke you!" she said as she started to cry. Now the possibility of the whole town being annihilated flooded
over her.
"With
what? I'll have taken all their
warheads." Her sobs backed
off as she reasoned through this incomprehensible scenario. "I don't know," she sobbed, as it dawned on her that her
boyfriend, the man whose intellect she so highly regarded, and whose passion
she loved so deeply, was, obviously, completely mad. Then she looked at Jeff; her normally radiant
eyes were now a translucent blaze of green. Jeff looked in amazement at the color, the most stunning shade of
green he had ever seen.
"It will
work Linda, put your trust me."
Jeff touched her hand; she was shaking all over but did not pull
away from him.
"I'm not
a powerhouse lawyer, I. Jesus,
as if that matters! Will what
you do hurt anyone?, she finally asked in a timid but more clinical tone.
"It will
not so much as disturb the dreams of a sleeping baby@, Jeff answered,
his confidence returning as he dwelt with details.
AI am going to start and win world war three without so much as
a Band-Aid needed for the casualties."
He smiled at Linda. She
regained some composure, stifling a sniffle, she asked,
"What
about you, how can you even fantasize that you won't die in prison? Surely you can't be free after something like
this?" Jeff shrugged.
"I'm a
proponent of the carrot and the stick theory.
The carrot is free power, enough energy to water the deserts, to
light the streets of crime, end wars over oil, power space exploration. New vistas abound everywhere, Physics, Engineering,
Medicine. Standards of living
flow from what I discovered. It
is a mighty cornucopia of sated need.
People will want that.
"The stick
is that all the political power brokers, Presidents, Party Secretaries,
Prime Ministers, will see their mighty armies blasted asunder if they
use them. Industrial magnates will be yapping as children,
impotent. All until they meet
my terms. And my terms will be
very reasonable, even generous, especially to the United States. I intend to turn my entire system over to the
U.S. military command as soon as I've received a signed Treaty." Linda looked at him.
"It's
against Constitutional Law to make a treaty with an individual."
Jeff asked, "what's their option?"
He got up to leave. "I love you Linda, but you are responsible
for which way you jump. I want
you with me tonight." He
left her office.
Linda watched
him leave, and she was bewildered by what he had said. Of course, she thought, he is completely insane. But she always surmised that delusions of grandeur
were easy to recognize; and were chiefly composed of people who believed
they were Napoleon, or Jesus, or Churchill.
She opened her address book on her computer and searched for the
number of David Lopez. Perhaps
he could offer insights on 'which way to jump'.
Involuntary commitment seemed to be the only rational answer. She wondered how he pulled off the illusion
of a working gravity engine. That
little see-saw sensation in her stomach when he turned up its power must
have been coincidental gas, she thought.
* * *
He walked through
the West End of a town called Warrenton.
On either side of him four story brick buildings lined the street. All their windows, holes windows used to occupy,
were blackened by smoke of a fire long since extinguished. The buildings were abandoned, their interiors
gone. No roofs either, just bricks.
He saw no life anywhere, not even insects.
It was deathly still. He came to an intersection of two roads, asphalt
with cement curbs, running at right angles to each other.
He peered down
the street that crossed his path. It
displayed the same desolation. The
gutted brick façades marched down for several blocks until they were no
longer visible in the somber mist that hung like an after thought in the
air. An old newspaper page rustled in the comfortless
air and nothing living moved. This
place is dead, he thought. He
walked towards the life in other parts of the town.
Past the desolation,
he saw her. A bright vision of
beauty, Karen. Her name was Karen,
blessed with long chestnut hair, and a huge bosom for a fourteen-year-old
girl. He fell in love. He called out to her but she giggled and ran ahead, peering over
her shoulder as she ran. She had
a sweet smile of seductive innocence that inflamed his heart. He was attracted to innocence. He ran faster, but so did she. He pursued her down nameless streets of manicured
lawns and shade trees, calling her to stop. This place was alive with a gentle power. He could feel life coursing through it, humming
beneath his feet. Why so close
to desolation?
She turned
into a stairway leading to a house on a hill, still looking after him,
and giggling. But he could not
follow. He stared at the house, a fine old two-story
wood framed beauty built when the world was young. She pulled aside a lace curtain that adorned a window in the front
of the house and looked out at him. Her
smile faltered as he turned and slowly walked away. Things had to be possible. She wanted to be caught, wanted to be loved,
but she had reached HOME, she was safe, even if she didn't want to be.
He walked downtown.
He went to the edge of the river that ran through town, except
this river was different. It flowed down from the north and up from the
south to disappear into a great circular waterfall at the center of town.
Water flowing in from both directions but not flowing out anyplace
he could see. He was pondering the oddity of this impossible fall when he heard
her giggle again. She wore a bright
Gingham dress cut too short on her thighs as she bit her finger and locked
her mischievous eyes on him. He
smiled at her and went towards her. She
stood her ground and waited a look of indescribable sexuality on her young
face.
Then she stopped
looking at him and looked to the north, where one leg of the strange river
flowed from, where the dam was. Her
face grew pale and frightened, he felt the town stop and turn its attention
after this goddess child, this Karen.
He could see the path cut by the river in the green majesty of
the mountains. Then the flash
came. Karen froze, her body lit by a ghastly bright
light. She burst into flames.
Unimaginable light filled the northern sky.
Karen screamed. He turned to her but a wraith greeted his sight,
horrible denuded bone shrouded by shreds of charred flesh. Its eyeless, grinning skull beckoned to him
as it reached out to embrace him. He
turned and ran.
He reached
a bridge over the river and began to cross.
A mist, thick and noxious, descended like a legion of noiseless,
screaming demons and engulfed
the bridge he crossed. He tried
to out run it. He could not. As the mist over took him his legs became as
lead, he could now just walk; breathing was difficult. He fell to his knees. He was so tired, just a little rest, O.K.?
No, he must move. He fell on his belly and crawled. No breath, no strength, he stopped. I'm dying he thought..
* * *
Jeff struggled
from sleep, panting hard. "God
I hate those kind", he muttered to himself.
He checked his watch; it was nearly five‑thirty. He heard the front door open, heard Linda saying
hello to Choko. He struggled up
from bed, head spinning like a bad hangover, and lurched downstairs. Choko saw him first and came bounding over,
all dog smiles, for his hello pet. Linda
saw him, rushed into his arms, and squeezed him fiercely.
"It's
OK baby, it's OK", she cooed into his ear as she held him. Support and supervision was what he needed.
Especially after tonight when his illusions would be shattered
by the factual impossibility of the Dawn Treader's flight.
Her discussion this afternoon with Mr. Lopez, Mr. Hopewell's attorney
in California, had been less informative and instructional than she had
hoped. Their conversation was brief and unsatisfying. When she explained that Jeff was suffering
from delusions, Lopez just laughed.
"Yep,
that's the way he is. More than
a few people have thought he was certifiable.
I remember times when he claimed to be able to do something that
other experts in the field roundly ridiculed as impossible.
His plasma based ozone generator is a good case in point. Everyone said that there was not a chance in
hell it could work the way he described.
Everything about the design was wrong, flawed, or based on ridiculous
assumptions. ApTech should post
sales in the neighborhood of twenty million dollars this year for that
thing. It appears to be his curse in this life: no
one believes in his inventions at first."
"But this
is completely different", Linda said, "He really believes he
can change the world, and I mean on an international scale, with profound
and devastating consequences. He
really has gone completely over the edge."
"Is that
your professional opinion, Doctor?" Lopez retorted sarcastically. "Listen, the last time I saw him he was
fine. He was peaceful, serene
even about leaving ApTech, leaving California.
If he isn't stomping around and screaming, then believe me, he's
fine. Just make sure he gets enough
sleep and see to it that he makes some friends. And if you are smart, believe that he can build what he says he
can build, and it will do what he says it will do. I am really rather envious of you. I used to love trips to the lab to just observe his enthusiasm,
his passion for whatever project he was into.
That seems like a long time ago now."
"Really? How long ago? Do you know what he is 'into' now?" Linda was angry, he was not taking her seriously.
"Oh, God, it must be four years since I actually visited the
lab. As I recall, he was working
on some kind of new computer networking system.
If it is more than that, you will have to ask him, I barely know
enough to turn the damned things on. Listen, I have a meeting coming up so I have
to get off the phone now. Good
luck, Ms. Donaldson, enjoy the ride."
Lopez hung up the phone.
Jeff was surprised
by her vehemence. He pulled her
to arm length and looked penetratingly into her eyes.
Linda said,
"Tell
me you're not insane. Tell me
that you don't really intend to."
Her voice trailed off as she noticed a strange pallor on his face. She studied him a moment. "You OK? You look pale."
"Karen? No, sorry.
I had a bad dream." Her
brow lowered, and she sensed that he really did need help, that her initial
assessment was correct. "Keep
it light", she told herself, then to Jeff, "I brought food. Fried Chicken." She handed up a bag of take out. "You hungry?"
They ate a
quiet dinner. Jeff finished his
second piece, then begged off eating any more.
Linda looked in the bucket. There
must have been seven or eight pieces left.
"I like
fried chicken best cold anyway." .
Jeff responded. "Just
put in the fridge, I'll eat it for breakfast.
Assuming I'm here to have breakfast that is."
"Don't
say that." Linda scolded. "Of
course you'll be here. 'Because
that 'ship' isn't going anywhere', she thought.
I haven't waited this long just to have you . have you go away right off the bat." She was afraid of what could happen, because
of the fury of his disappointment. Jeff
was afraid of what could happen, what if his ship crashed or the collector
would not start? It did not make
for sparkling conversation.
"Promise
me you won't be too disappointed if it doesn't work, OK? You know, even just lightening the ship by a few ounces at full
power would be a huge breakthrough. I
just don't want you to be disappointed."
"I know
it's hard to believe, but tonight you will see my Dawn Treader fly, tonight. As
for the rest of it, we shall see." He walked around the table and held Linda in his arms. The doorbell rang, Choko barked and Linda exhaled
a sigh of relief. Brent and Jennifer
were here.
Brent was obviously
nervous and agitated. Jennifer
looked somewhat uncomfortable, only Linda surmised, because of Brent's
edginess. She was one of those
people who seem unaffected by nearly anything around her. Brent walked in and grabbed Jeff, "Lets go do it!" Jeff looked hard at Brent then laughed out
loud.
"What
in the hell is that!?" he said pointing to Brent's shirt. Linda turned, saw Brent and managed a light
chuckle as well.
"Oh my
Brent, very nice, tres, tres chique, just what the well dressed space
marauder goes planet hopping in."
She laughed a nervous laugh.
Brent was dressed
in a military style green camouflage outfit, both shirt and baggy pants. He wore heavy leather boots and a felt hat
with one side of the brim pinned to the crown.
Brent didn't get upset or embarrassed in the least, in fact he
rather enjoyed the commotion. He
gave Jeff a look of arrogance and strutted back and forth to show off
his attire, then turned smartly, clicked his heels together and came to
rigid attention.
"Spaceman
First Class Merroth reporting for duty, Sir!" and saluted Jeff crisply.
Then he just returned to normal and said, "I thought it kind
of fit, I mean I've never attacked a power plant before."
Jeff smiled. Good humor
and high morale was an asset.
"We are
not attacking the plant, we're just.
borrowing it for a while. Anyway
we're not doing anything until the Field Collector is secured in the cargo
hold and our final checks are made. But
I want to launch at eleven thirty, the local police have a shift change
at midnight so they will all be at the station, a good twenty‑five
minute drive from pestering us."
Jeff checked his watch again.
It was seven‑thirty.
Jeff turned
to Jennifer and said "Will you come out and keep us company?" She nodded yes and wondered how Jeff could
ask such a dumb question, of course she was coming out to watch, she wouldn't
miss this. Linda came back from
the kitchen with an ice chest and announced "All set." Brent looked at the chest, "Beer?"
he said hopefully. "No, I
never drink and fly, just cold cola's I'm afraid", then his face
brightened,
"But there
is a twelve-pack icing down for when we get back."
Three hours
later they finally wrestled the Field Collector in the Dawn Treader's hold.
The Collector
took nearly the entire space and weighed over three tons. It was packaged as a rectangular box six feet square by fifteen
feet long. The control panels
were far to the right of the device, three massive cables exited the other
end in a triangular pitch pattern. The
'jumper cables' as Brent called them would need to be coiled. Brent also had large industrial sized bolt cutters, customized with
an enormous amount of insulation wrapped about the handles.
Finally everything
was in to Jeff's satisfaction. He
checked his watch, it was 11:15, right on schedule. He showed Linda the controls for the two bay doors mounted in the
roof. He intended to fly right
out of the barn. He told her to
open the doors when he gave the thumbs up.
Brent was already
in the cockpit of the Dawn Treader,
lit with anticipation. Jeff turned
back to Jennifer,
"I've
disabled the card key locks for now, you and Linda can come and go as
you need, I'll tell Choko to be on his toes as well."
He then turned
to Linda,
"CB set
on channel twenty‑four?"
"Yessir,
but why twenty‑four?" Jeff
looked at her and shrugged his shoulders, "Why not?" He went up the ladder like steps built into
the side of the ship then hesitated and turned back. Brent was getting frantic. He
walked over to Choko and gave him an affectionate head rub, then said
"Patrol, tight!" Choko
disappeared out the inner door. Then
he went to Linda and hugged her. She
kissed his lips. Her eyes belied
a melancholy sadness; she did not want him to be hurt though she could
see no other outcome to this hopeless exercise.
"Give
it a try now. , I'll be waiting for you."
Jennifer whispered
"Good Luck" as Jeff climbed into the pilot's seat of the Dawn Treader.
He closed and
secured the Plexiglas canopy around him.
It was covered with a spider-web of silvery metallic strands; Brent
thought it looked like the same material that the shield coil he buried
was made of.
"Ready?"
Jeff asked. "No doubt"
was Brent's reply. Jeff turned
on the battery fed instrument system.
He tried the CB first.
"This
is Dawn Treader to the pretty blonde do you
copy?" Linda turned and gave
him a halfhearted wave,
"No. Use the radio, I want to know I can hear you
too" Jeff said back into
the mike.
"Yes I
hear you fine, perfectly clear", she answered.
He turned on
the control circuits of the Time Flux Field generator. Brent felt the unit throb to life. An indicator on the panel in front of him started flashing over
and over 045, 045.
"Why is
it flashing?" Brent asked.
"It's
programmed to flash below 050, that is five percent of its full charge. We're starting on empty." Brent got worried, "You mean almost out
of 'gas'?"
"Yep"
came the reply.
"But don't
get worried, we could get to Florida with that much". Brent felt better, until Jeff said "assuming
we don't activate the shield of course." Brent sighed. He hated it when Jeff did that.
Jeff checked his watch again; 11:32.
"Show time", he whispered to himself.
He mouthed a silent prayer that he hadn't forgotten something,
turned to Linda and gave her the thumbs up.
She hit a button and the big sky doors rolled back revealing a
star lit night.
He nudged the
power output control slightly forward, but the Dawn Treader did not respond. He
increased power a little more. Suddenly
Brent could see the side wall of the barn begin scrolling down. They were going up.
"I don't
feel anything", Brent said, an edge of fear in his voice.
Jeff was concentrating
on the controls and ignored the comment. The cigar shaped, silver metal ship continued
its snail pace until it had cleared the top of the barn. Jeff backed off on the power and the Dawn Treader hung motionless just outside
the opening. The radio clicked
on.
"Oh my
God! That's awesome, just awesome"
Linda said in complete disbelief. Jeff
looked out the canopy into the top of the barn. He could see Linda and Jennifer both staring at the ship hovering
above them. Jeff grabbed the mike
and said,
"No lie,
I have been waiting for this, I think, all my life. Close the doors", his voice grew in power and excitement, "and
Hot Damn! here we go!"
He pushed the
throttle to one eighth field and pulled back the joy-stick that controlled
the Field Flux direction. The
Dawn Treader shot into the night. Brent gaped, they climbed so fast he expected
the whole earth to shrink beneath him like a cartoon, still he didn't
feel anything. Jeff moved the
stick, the ship responded, in fact she flew marvelously. He came down rapidly, just skimming the surface of the Allegheny
River, then turned and headed up the side of the mountain staying just
above the trees. All the while
his face beaming with success. Brent
was laughing, and pointing, and mostly soaking up as much of this experience
as he could.
They approached
the power plant from the forest to the south of the dam. They were over Federal land, the Allegheny
National Forest, and had almost no chance of being seen. Jeff saw his target. The Kinzua dam was lit up against the night.
The power plant below it looked like a toy train model of a generating
station next to the immenseness of the dam.
They had already scouted out a place to attach, one of the four
sets of high voltage transmission towers carrying power to Cleveland,
Ohio one hundred and twenty miles to the northwest.
They had picked
a point as far from the control rooms as they could, but they would still
be visible to anyone who happened to look in that direction. Jeff angled the ship in. The Dawn
Treader had no landing gear, Jeff's plan was to hover in front of
the large high tension towers and connect to them from the nose of the
ship. His job was easy: hold the ship still. Brent had the harrowing job of opening the
nose hatch and actually connecting the jumper clips to the high voltage
lines. Once the connections were
made, if Jeff told him to, he would cut the powerful cables down line
from his connection point. The
target tower was dead ahead. Jeff
backed down the power, the ship slowed then stopped just feet from the
wires.
Brent took
the cue from Jeff and slipped into the opening in the front of his seat,
into the hold of the Dawn Treader. Brent scrambled over the Field Collector until
he reached the nose then switched on the Radio Shack intercom Jeff had
placed there a couple of weeks ago.
"Can you
here me?", Brent's voice came over the cockpit intercom. "Loud and clear, and me?"
"Loud
and clear. O.K., First step, open
the nose." Jeff could hear
the mechanical click as Brent undid the retaining clips on the nose section.
"Nose
open, Damn, I didn't know we'd be this high up!" Brent sounded scared.
"Don't
fall out" Jeff said, "I'd have a hell of a time explaining it
to the authorities."
"Very
funny" Brent came back, then "I need you to move about four
feet left and down about two feet before I can reach the first wire." Jeff nudged the controls, Brent gave directions,
a few adjustments, and then Brent said "Perfect, stay right there,
that's perfect." Brent saw
the massive insulator right below him.
He took the
first of the three huge alligator clips and worked it into position. He opened the clip jaw and slipped it over
the heavy wire just where it exited the insulator. There was a brief pop and flash of arc, and Brent could feel his
skin crawl and his hair twist from the raw power emanating from the line.
"First
clip installed, maintain this altitude and move us about twenty feet to
the right." The ship obeyed,
Brent fed out cabling to clip one as the little ship nudged closer to
the middle wire. In just seconds
the second insulator was in position.
"O.K. Jeff, I'm ready for clip two, what happens
when I make the connection?"
"You'll
hear a low hum from the Field Collector, it will get much louder when
the third cable is connected and will gradually increase in pitch as time
goes on. I'll be able to tell from up here if the lines
need to be cut. If they do, cut
three first, then go back and cut the other two, O.K.?" Brent crossed himself and attached the second
clip.
The arc was
much worse this time, Brent jumped back.
The acrid smell of ozone filled the area.
He heard a low throaty hum from the Field Collector. Then he heard a loud piercing shriek of the
power plant emergency siren. "Damn!"
he muttered as he clamored to the nose hatch to see if anyone was coming.
"Cable
three!, cable three!" Jeff
shouted, "Now!"
They maneuvered
to the third cable of the three phase transmission line, and got the clip
connected.
"Brent
cut the damn cables, cut them now!"
Jeff's voice was strained, emphatic.
Brent fumbled for the bolt cutters and brought them to bear on
the third cable. Arcs and pops
filled the air as he struggled to break the line.
He felt the jaws bite into the metal conductor, every yielding
strand sent shivers up his arms like connecting with ten thousand baseballs
in a few seconds time. The cable
gave, Brent heard it crash to the concrete beneath.
A second siren started wailing.
"Cable three cut, get me to one fast." Brent yelled. Jeff immediately moved the Dawn
Treader back over cable one. Brent
attacked it with the heavily insulated cable cutters. A second later it dropped also.
"Cable
one away, how we doing?"
"This
is nuts. I'm nuts for involving
you", came the response.
Brent only
listened for the pitch of the Field Collector. It was getting higher and he assumed that was a good sign.
"Brent,
they've seen us, you better duck, back away from the hatch", Jeff
said in a strangely calm voice. Brent
felt a spasm of fear run through him.
Linda was right, this had to be illegal.
"Brent,
we've got them locked, now if they don't get help too quickly, we might
actually make it."
"What
do you mean 'locked'?" he demanded.
"I mean
they can't shut down the turbines we're drawing on because they would
burn up as they slowed with our load on them.
The only hope they have of not wrecking the generators is to leave
them running. I'm showing a draw of three hundred and fifty
thousand volts and eleven hundred amps.
That's about 375 Megawatts. We
should be here another eighteen minutes."
Jeff gazed
calmly at the people on the ground. They
were staring slack jawed at this brassy intruder that seemed to be eating
transmission tower four. Jeff
saw one of them turn and run back inside the complex.
He knew that whatever emergency number they had was being called.
The Field Collector
kept taking on power, its pitch getting higher and higher. "Jeff, how are our friends on the ground
doing?" Brent asked, but
less nervously now. They had been
tied in for ten minutes and no action had yet been taken.
"They're
behaving themselves, so far. They
seem content to keep a respectful distance and watch for the moment." Jeff kept monitoring the Field Collector, if
it was going to start it should be just a few more minutes.
He would know
it started when the readout on residual power in the Flux Field generator
would shoot up almost immediately to 999.
When that happened he had to throttle back the Collector fast. He looked at it now, 036, and still flashing.
Brent thought the Field Collector couldn't get to a higher pitch,
but it just kept going up, much more and he wouldn't be able to hear it
at all. "How long" he
said through the intercom. He looked at his watch, they had been tied
in for sixteen minutes.
"Two minutes,
I hope." Jeff's attention
was suddenly riveted back to the panel in front of him. The flashing display had stopped flashing. It read 080 and started climbing faster.
"Brent,
Brent! The Collector is coming
on line, it's working!" He
said excitedly. Suddenly the cockpit
was flooded with light.
"Jeff!"
Brent screamed into the intercom over the roar outside, "We've got
company, helicopters, I think they're Pennsylvania State Police."
Two helicopters
circled the little ship, their spot lights running back and forth along
it. They obviously did not know
quite what to make of the Dawn Treader
either. Jeff glanced at the display
again, 125, then almost immediately it went to 999.
At that instant
a brilliant flash lit the night sky accompanied by a tremendous explosion
that rocked the generating station. Flames
and debris erupted from one half the long structure. The helicopters broke off the Dawn
Treader and climbed. The men
who had been watching on the ground turned and ran for their plant, now
a mangled inferno. Jeff yelled
through the intercom,
"Brent
let's get the hell out of here! Abandon
the cables and button the nose, fast."
Brent groped helplessly, blinded by that flash. He felt his way to the hatch, feeling for the
cables. He couldn't find them. He assumed that the flash must have been caused
by the explosive bolts built into the base of the cables. He fought with the hatch to close it. A loudspeaker boomed out in front of him:
"You are
ordered to land immediately, right where you are or we will open fire. I repeat you are." The speaker was muffled out when Brent closed
the hatch.
"Hatch
closed, they are going to shoot us down, damn it, get this crate moving!" He screamed as he wiped tears from his eyes.
But Brent did
not need to tell Jeff that. One
copter was right in front of him; a rifleman leaned out one side and aimed
straight at Jeff through the canopy.
"The hell with this" Jeff thought.
"Shield
Up." He hit a series of buttons. The Field Collector momentarily shuddered then
returned to the hum it was making. Brent
felt it though. A rolling, sickening
feeling like he just went off the top of a roller coaster. The rifleman opened fire with his automatic
weapon. Jeff could see the muzzle
flashes in the twilight glow of looking through a shield. The bullets bounced off. The second copter opened fire with the same
lack of effect. Brent scrambled
back to the cockpit and was surprised to see they were still hovering
by the tower, the power plant to their left in flames.
"What
are you doing!?" He screamed
at Jeff, "They are going to shoot!
Get us the fuck out of here!"
Jeff looked at him blandly then his face cracked into a wide grin.
"They
are shooting now, everything they've got, but we've got a working Compression
Zone Shield, look!" He pointed
to the muzzle flashes from the lead helicopter.
Brent's face showed dazed amazement, then dawning comprehension.
"We've
got shields?" Brent asked
quizzically. Jeff nodded emphatically.
"You enjoy
doing this to me, don't you?" said Brent.
Jeff felt high, but also knew that they had better get out of there
right now. The State Police would
be radioing that there really was a UFO wreaking havoc at the power plant
and to send help. Jeff nudged
the controls and grabbed the joy stick.
The Dawn Treader started up and away from tower
number four, the helicopters paced it.
Jeff knew he could out run them, he could outrun the space shuttle
if he wanted to now that the Field Collector was on line, but he wanted
to lead them away from the barn. He
continued over the top of the dam and along the waters of Kinzua reservoir. He nudged his speed up, the copters matched
it. Then he went to one-quarter
throttle. The Dawn Treader blazed ahead so fast that in three seconds Jeff couldn't
even see the helicopters. He maintained
this speed and tracked to the middle of the reservoir as it wound through
the mountains. In less than three
minutes he was at the opposite end of the lake from the dam, forty miles
away. He turned the shield off,
and hovered over the quiet waters.
"My eyebrows
burned off" Brent grumbled. "Any
serious damage?" Jeff was
concerned, it was dark in the cockpit, and Brent was only a shadow.
"I'm still
seeing flashbulb bursts, but its getting better. No permanent damage I think. What
in the hell was that? Why'd the
generating station blow up?" Brent
was scared. He never thought they
would actually damage the plant, much less obliterate it. The dawning realization that he had just committed
a serious criminal act was beginning to overwhelm him.
"The helicopters
distracted me. I needed to shut
down the Collector after it started feeding the field generator, I missed
it. What happened is the Field
Collector, this one at any rate, was designed to start on electricity. The explosion occurred when the Time Flux Field
generator was filled to capacity. Before
the Field Collector could throttle back automatically, it started humping
excess power into the only other available sink, the Power Station.
It must have really juiced it good too.
I'd estimate that for the brief second before shutdown it was running
about eight hundred thousand volts and millions of amps, no, hundreds
of millions of them. Face it, we wrecked a power plant by pumping
hundreds of terawatts into it."
Brent was speechless.
He knew that not even huge nuclear power plants measured outputs
in terawatts. Maybe some managed gigawatts, but never hundreds even then.
Jeff looked
out over the still waters of the lake.
He could see no evidence, other than the lake itself, that humans
existed at all. It was a clear night lit with half moon light,
he could see for miles. There
was nothing. No lights of any
kind anywhere. Just like every
other part of this strange lake, the forest marched right down to the
water line. Brent told him there was not so much as log
cabin along its entire convoluted three thousand mile shoreline. Jeff didn't believe the thing had three thousand
miles of coastline, but there was no denying it was a huge reservoir.
They had traveled
forty miles along its surface and still were not at the headwaters. Brent turned to Jeff,
"You know,
the road past your place must be alive with emergency vehicles, sirens
wailing, horns blaring. The girls
will hear all that commotion. They
must be scared to death, why don't we try the radio, let them know we're
all right." Jeff realized Brent was right. The main road, the only road, between Warrenton
and Kinzua ran by his house, not two hundred yards away. They might not be in range of the CB, but he'd
try. Jeff picked the mike up and
clicked the button,
"Dawn Treader to the Pretty Blonde, Dawn Treader to the Pretty Blonde, do you
copy?"
The radio spit
static, then through the static he could hear Linda's voice.
"This
is the Pretty Bl.. .reader, Can
you hear m.epeat, can you her.e, over?."
They were on the knifes edge of being in range.
"Mission
accomplished, we're O.K., repeat mission accomplished, we're O.K. Wait for us. Over." The static sounded,
Linda said "Thank God, over."
Brent put his
head back and looked at the sky. His
expression clouded over. He tapped
Jeff on the arm and pointed up. Jeff
followed his gaze. Arcing across
the sky, silhouetted by the half moon were two planes, still high up and
moving fast. They were war planes.
"Any chance
they see us?" Brent asked. "Doubt
it" Jeff responded. "We're
motionless next to the water and not emitting any EM radiation.
I don't think they see us."
But then one of the two planes broke from his partner and started
a long arc back towards the Dawn Treader. Jeff watched the plane's arc intently. It did not keep swinging past the line of the ship, but straightened
out and came straight at the Dawn
Treader as it dropped in altitude.
"Well
I'll be a son of a bitch!" Jeff muttered.
"I guess it can see us after all." Brent snapped back to attention.
Jeff wanted to know: did the plane see them, or was it acting on
a hunch? Good pilots did that,
the Air Force had the best. He
pushed the throttle forward, the Dawn
Treader accelerated smoothly away from its resting spot. Jeff nudged the accelerator hard, the ship leaped forward, then
slowed. The plane changed course
and was heading for their new position.
"Shield
up" he said and threw the shield switch.
Brent felt the somersault in his stomach again.
"Does
it do that every time?" He
was becoming more upset. "Afraid
so."
The hostile
aircraft drew nearer. Jeff steered
the Dawn Treader down into then under the water
of the lake. Brent was white as
a sheet.
"Underwater? You're going Underwater? Are you crazy!?"
"Remember
the shield. Mass can't penetrate
it, and that includes water. The
skin isn't even wet. We had better try to get home.
It's going to be tricky because we're blind and we left more of
an impression on the power station than I intended.
We'll just cruise down here for a while then make a break for it,
go the long way around."
Brent looked
him, "what about oxygen? I
didn't pack any in the lunch bucket and I don't have gills."
"Whoops" They could not stay down for long.
Jeff used a
penlight to carefully study a map of the lake.
Finally he said "there, we'll emerge there and follow the
road by skimming the trees. They'd
have to be looking right at us to see us, we'll come up at a spot called
Devil's Elbow. You know it?"
"Sure
I know it, it's a great make-out spot."
Brent sighed, wondering if he would remain free long enough to
enjoy that place once again. "But
don't tell Jen I said that."
They dove to
the bottom of the lake. He had
read that the lake was very deep in spots, no chance of being spotted. He nudged the controls forward and the Dawn Treader plowed through the depths
of Kinzua Lake.
It was utterly
black. Jeff had no idea of his
direction. He was worried that his sole forward spotlight
would tip off whoever was above the lake to his location, but he had to
risk it. He clicked on the spotlight
to reveal a twilit land that few if any had ever seen. They traveled silently looking at the bizarre
features of the bottom. Mostly
what they saw were tree stumps, millions of them. The soil around the roots had eroded away to show ghastly and beautiful
forms of twisted, water logged wood.
Every now and then something else would appear, a '52 Chevy or
an old horse drawn plow, sights that hadn't been seen since this beautiful
and plush valley had been ruthlessly drowned over thirty years ago.
Then they came
on a sight that filled Jeff with wonder.
A street, complete with a stop light on the corner and a SLOW CHILDREN
sign. Along the street were chimneys, remnants of
the houses that stood here, utility boxes, old cars, stone buildings,
Jeff was amazed.
"Welcome
to Corydon, Pennsylvania", Brent said with awe. Jeff said "They left the street lights, the buildings, a whole
town and just summarily executed it?" He looked at Brent for an explanation. Brent explained that they only burned stuff that could float to
the surface, everything that would not float they left alone. But why here? Brent shrugged, he didn't know.
But then Brent had a flash of brilliance.
"Just
follow the main road out of town, it leads right to Devils Elbow. That's how it got the name in the first place,
on account of a hair-pin turn on the road between Warrenton and Corydon."
As if to confirm
what Brent said, a ghostly sign appeared in the murk ahead. It said "Warrenton 14". Jeff followed the road. It was easy to stay with as it twisted and
turned among the inundated, ghostly landscape.
They could see driveways leading to blackened pits with chimney's
sticking out. Old stone water
wells, and once a complete fieldstone house.
The windows even looked intact.
There were stone foundations of barns, a grain silo, Jeff half
expected to see cows with fins swim past.
Of course none
did. This valley was dead. The truth of death was evident in the tree
stumps. A few feet of rich top
soil was all that covered a base of inhospitable shale rock, the top soil
was gone, just the shale remained. The
stumps looked as if they had climbed right out of the ground at the last,
standing on the tips of their roots to hold off the water that rose to
claim them. Jeff followed the road. A sign identified it as ROUTE 59 and he marveled
that he had been this little road's only customer in many years, under
eight hundred feet of water.
The road climbed
sharply as it left Pleasant Valley and the decaying bones of Corydon. Jeff stayed right over it. The spotlight showed only broken, decaying
asphalt underneath; bare, crumbly looking rock to the left; obstinate
nothingness to the right. Without
warning the Dawn Treader broke
the surface of the water. Jeff
quickly backed off the power and Brent gasped.
They had reached Devil's Elbow, now a small, mostly useless, park
that was little more than a roadside picnic area.
The new Route 59 was above them on a gleaming concrete and steel
bridge almost a hundred feet above the water.
Directly in front of them their spotlight shone on an old station
wagon, a bewildered boy and girl in the front seat madly searched for
articles of clothing ripped off in the heat of sexual desire.
Jeff nudged
the Dawn Treader past the juvenile lovers and
on up the side of the mountain. He
clicked the shield off and hit a vent near his left hand. Cool fresh air poured into the cockpit. They followed the ridge of the mountain, but
just below it so their silhouette would not be seen. They passed silently not half a mile from the power plant they had
unintentionally devastated; it still burned. There must have been a hundred emergency vehicles of all description
there, all had red lights flashing. In all the confusion down there no one noticed the shadow among
shadows, the cigar shaped Dawn Treader
as she quietly snuck home.
Jeff grabbed
the CB's microphone. "Dawn Treader to Pretty Blonde, You copy?"
The speaker responded almost immediately, no static now,
"This
is pretty Blonde. Where in the
hell are you? We've been calling
and calling, getting no answer, people running around everywhere." Her voice started to break "dammit you
scared us!"
"We'll
be home in minutes, open the barn door, we'll explain when we see you,
out." He clicked off the
radio and looked at his watch. It
was four minutes to two. Brent
saw the open doors of the barn first and pointed them out to Jeff. Brent could see the girls in the barn as Jeff gently guided the
Dawn Treader into her protective nest.
They stood and watched, still awed by the reality of what they
saw. The ship's belly touched
down gently and Jeff powered down. The doors above them smoothly slid shut, hiding
the ship from unwanted eyes.
The canopy
burst open as both Brent and Jeff were desperate to end the incredible
journey they had just taken. Most
people like adventure best as an afterthought.
It's fun to remember acts of danger, peril, and desperation. It's not nearly so fun to deal with them in
the here and now while the possibility of getting your butt flailed is
still real and pressing. But they
had made it. The maiden voyage
of the Dawn Treader became a story, no longer
reality, no longer dangerous. They
were ecstatic as they climbed down from the cockpit. Linda ran to Jeff, Jennifer to Brent.
Jeff grabbed
Linda then he reared back his head and gave a yell, a primal scream the
gurus of the seventies would say, up to the rafters.
Linda laughed so hard she cried.
Choko put his head back and howled a mighty howl, chest thundering
as he picked up the emotions his master sent.
Jennifer was crying and laughing and kissing Brent all over his
face. Brent was jumping around
and hooting restrained only by Jennifer's weight as she clung to him.
Jennifer suddenly
pushed Brent to arm's length and held him there.
"What
in the Bloody Hell did you do to the power station?
I've never heard so many sirens in my life! Hell, we heard an explosion from here! I thought for sure you guys had been blown to bits." Brent grinned at her, then his grin was replaced
by a look more somber,
"We accidentally
blew up the plant" he said somewhat chagrined. Linda looked hard at Jeff.
"Accidentally
blew it up?"
Brent started
to show some enthusiasm, "Yeah!
Boy, you should have seen it, flames and debris, people running
for their lives, but we couldn't stay to watch because when the helicopters
started shooting at us..." "Shooting at you!", Linda gasped.
Jeff took over
the abbreviated version, "with automatic weapons, we outran the helicopters
but when the war planes showed up we figured...."
"What
war planes!?" Jennifer demanded.
Brent finished,
"We figured
we better submerge beneath the lake to travel.
You ought to see the bottom of the lake Jen, it's really neat,
old cars and buildings and stuff."
"That's
it!" Linda declared, pushing
away from Jeff and taking several steps back from him. She turned. "You two
have some explaining! I want to
hear it in order, from the beginning, all of it!"
"How about
a beer first?" Brent suggested. Suddenly he was very thirsty.
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