Aliomenti Saga 6: Stark Cataclysm (6 page)

But it wouldn’t be right to leave them with incomplete information. He wanted them to have the opportunity to make a legitimate decision. Curse his parents and the morals they’d instilled in him.

“In that scenario, the transport of electricity from the source to the device and the home would be no different than the current production and delivery model. The device produces all electricity directly. I agree with you regarding solar and wind. Neither have the ability to produce sufficient electricity with the footprint described here. The device
does
have the ability to capture both where available and supplement the primary electrical production technique. But that’s all. You could disable those supplemental sources without preventing the device from producing its electrical quota.”

That statement mollified her. “So… what is it, then? What’s the secret fuel source?”

“It’s something that’s always with us while we’re on this planet. It’s something not tied to geography or weather conditions. Nor does it rely on one being near a large body of water.” He took a deep breath. “The primary source of power here is gravity.”

There was a long, quiet pause. He could hear their thoughts, each of them trying to make sense of his claim. How could he use something as simple as gravity to produce the electricity needed to power a standard home? The doubt began to outweigh the positive emotion he’d sensed earlier.

He was making his point and remaining true to his principles while discouraging them from continuing.

Good.

Finally, the first man spoke. “Gravity? How… how can you use gravity to power a generator?”

Fil licked his lips. Everyone had signed nondisclosure agreements; he’d have an airtight case should the technology appear on the market without his involvement. He didn’t think they’d turn him down and then try to recreate the technology on their own.

That didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

He considered his next words carefully. “Sailboats are able to move both with and against the wind. This device uses gravity in a similar fashion to rotate the cylinders and generate current. The device takes advantage of the fact that gravity always pulls down. It doesn’t need added complexity to consider gravity pulling up or from the side.”

The lead man for the group nodded once at his team, and they huddled around him, whispering. He knew they were done asking questions of him, had all the information they needed, and would now make their decision. He rested his hand on the smooth, cool metallic surface of the device, a material he’d created that blocked penetration by exterior energy waves. His briefing material stated this precaution prevented malfunctions; in reality, it prevented the unscrupulous at meetings such as these from scanning the interior and duplicating his design. The screen for his laptop displayed an icon showing the use of an external power supply. The cable plugged into the side of his device. If anyone noticed, if any of them realized this was a live demonstration of his invention, if any of them started to ask to test the device, he’d know they’d elected to fund his company.

He avoided spying on their emotions, preferring the element of surprise.

The primary spokesman for the group finally looked up. “I’m very sorry, but I’m having trouble believing it’s possible. You may well have succeeded in making the device next to you work as claimed, and perhaps we’ve cut our analysis short before we’ve had the chance to look at the device with more rigor. But as is… even if you
could
produce the device at the pricing you claim in your report, I have deep concerns about the public’s ability to believe in the product, and all of the associated adjustments its usage would require. The disbelief would crush any potential success.”

Fil paused, waiting for just one brief moment for effect. Inside, he was elated. The due diligence was done, they’d ensured he’d need to find another funding source, and he’d be able to hide the design as needed until profitability came. But public appearances were vital. “I… I don’t understand. The implications of what this device means are enormous. The profit potential is astronomical. The impact on society and the world at large is immeasurable. It seems… hasty to walk away before even seeing the device in action.”

“Perhaps,” the man said. He shrugged. “But that is our decision, and we have other meetings.”

In losing here today, he’d won. He picked up the computer and stowed it in the storage bag. After slinging the strap over his shoulder, he picked up the keg with both arms and walked slowly and mournfully from the room. Once outside, relief flooded over him.

He’d done it.

This had been his twentieth such presentation, and each had ended in similar fashion. The assembled investors had listened, had believed, but had doubted whether the public would accept the device and use them. If the public couldn’t believe in the device, they wouldn’t buy, and the investment firm would lose its investment. In a society where capital remained scarce, investors avoided such gambles.

He respected their decision. He could now put out the formal call for private investors. One would emerge from the shadows, hidden behind veils of legal instruments to preserve anonymity, and provide the capital he’d need to build his factories. He’d already worked out the development problems, reduced the price point to six months’ worth of average electric bills, and had documented proof the device worked. His “Generator Keg” wasn’t a concept requiring years of development and testing. It was ready for immediate production. Massive profits for his private investor were certain.

He frowned. He’d expected one of the public investment banks and corporations to see through the modest veil of secrecy he’d raised, to understand that this was the next technological breakthrough, one of enormous societal importance, and would drive the next great private fortune. Yet none of his potential investors had agreed to discuss terms.

Why?

He felt the back of his neck prickle, and his enhanced senses activated.

Someone felt threatened by him and his invention. Threatened enough to attack him.

He bypassed the elevator he’d used to reach the twelfth floor meeting room from the parking garage, opting instead for the nearby stairwell. Without the need to retain human appearance, he shifted the heavy keg under one arm and moved down the steps.

He hopped down several steps before realizing the door he’d entered hadn’t clicked shut.

His enhanced senses began screaming, telling him what was happening above and below.

There were three of them, all armed, all there representing the local utility company. They had orders to eliminate Fil Trask. Trask’s invention would devastate their industry. He muttered at himself; he’d never checked ownership of this building, hadn’t realized until the thought escaped an attacker’s mind that the utility itself owned the building. He’d been brought here under false pretenses, not to offer investment, but for elimination. Trask’s “keg” would be retrieved, and Trask must not leave the building alive.

He glanced upward. They expected him to protect the device, believe it the only working prototype, didn’t know about the half-dozen others scattered around the globe at Alliance safe houses. The element of surprise would serve him as he used the keg—or the computer—as shield or weapon. The laptop wouldn’t help them; the hard drive had been wiped clean when he’d powered the device down. At least he’d anticipated eventual attacks, even if he’d missed the obvious source.

He peered over the rail and pulled back, sensing the intent to fire the weapon before the trigger was depressed. The bullet whistled by from below. He went silent, listening, and detected two distinct breathing patterns above. One below.

He had better odds of escape moving down toward his car. He took the steps in silence, amused. He could generate more power than millions of the generator kegs, level the building and his ostensible attackers, including those who’d ordered the attack. He could target that Energy and turn the assassins to dust. He didn’t want to hurt the innocent, though. And Energy usage could bring the Hunters to him. He snorted internally. For all he knew, Porthos was on the other side of the world. The Hunter couldn’t detect minor Energy usage from across the globe. Could he?

He wouldn’t chance it unless his life was in immediate jeopardy.

He listened. The pair above remained immobile. The single attacker from below continued her stealthy ascent. Fil waited until she rounded the bend before attacking, hurling the heavy keg at his would-be assailant. She cried out in pain and collapsed on the landing below. Fil sprang at her and seized her gun. He flipped the safety mechanism on, slid the weapon inside his belt like a makeshift holster, and continued down the staircase.

The sound of a door opening several levels below him jolted him. Another assassin? He breathed out a deep sigh, ruffling the front of his hair. Hope said Will always moaned about people trying to kill him. He was starting to understand the frustration.

They knew he wanted to get to his car and leave the building. Yet there was a single assassin below him, with two above. Why would they make the obvious choice of an escape route the one he ought to take, based upon the number of people guarding each escape route?

They wanted him to move toward the garage.

He turned to head back up the stairs in silence as he divined their plan. Send single assassins from below. He’d vanquish each as they’d avoid engaging him, and he’d reach his parking spot. Had they already stolen the car? Wired it to explode when started? Tampered with his brakes to ensure an “accident” claimed his health or life?

He didn’t know. But he knew that wasn’t the way out for him.

He paused again, listening for movement. The two assassins above had started to move down the steps at a slow, agonizing pace. Perhaps they’d realized he’d figured out their plan and opted to remain in place. Draw attention to the assassination attempt by employees not involved in the effort. They’d altered their plans now, moving in a pincer movement to trap him on the stairwell landing between floors without the chance of escape. His Energy pulsed, straining against his skin and his Shield, and he felt the familiar burning sensation. The Energy demanded release to thwart his enemies. He closed his eyes to calm himself. He wouldn’t wipe out a city to smite three assassins.

He then assessed his situation.

The stairwells fit into condensed space; one would hit three landings moving between floors. He was trapped by the middle landing. None of the remaining assassins could see him yet. One of the assassins above had moved toward him at a more rapid pace. The assassin below had two full flights of stairs remaining to reach him. The landings extended beyond the stairwells like mini-floors. He could hide to the side of either stairwell, or beneath the one leading up. He slid off to the side of the stairwell leading up, out of sight of anyone descending, and waited in silence.

He heard the footfalls of the first assassin from above moving toward his landing. The man stepped gingerly from the final step to the flat surface. The gun led the way as the assassin rounded the bend.

Fil threw the keg at him.

It missed.

The assassin was distracted, not expecting his target to retaliate with apparent party supplies. Fil used the distraction and hurled himself at the armed man. Fil arrived before the assassin could aim his weapon and seized the man’s wrist. Fil might not look impressive to the man’s human eyes, but he possessed enormous strength. He bent the man’s hand back, preventing the assassin from firing the weapon. The man’s shock was tangible, and the smell of fear filled the landing.

He heard the crack and the scream of pain at the same time. The man collapsed to his knees and seized his shattered wrist as Fil pulled the gun away. Fil slammed his knee into the side of the man’s head and watched to ensure the man lost consciousness. He stowed the weapon in the same manner as the first.

Two down. Two to go. Or one if he moved quickly.

The second attacker above him wasn’t moving; he couldn’t hear any footsteps or sense the feeling of anticipation of moving for the attack. Fil suspected she was waiting to engage Fil until her partner from below reached the landing. She must know he’d vanquished her partner and was waiting for reinforcements. Smart move.

He didn’t want to let them succeed in engaging him two-on-one. Too much opportunity for him to be shot. If he moved up, he’d be shot. If he moved down, he might be able to reach the second assassin before he could draw his weapon and shoot Fil. Still too much of a risk.

A new plan formed. He started to scream. “Stop! You’re going to break my leg! Stop!”

He hoped the assassin above would believe Fil had screamed earlier, not her partner, and would move in to help subdue their target. Fil could subdue her, wait for the second assassin, and after taking care of that man move to the parking garage. He’d avoid his car, instead walking out of the complex.

But she held back. The assassin below was getting closer; he could hear the faint footfalls on the metal stairs despite the man’s best efforts at silence. He couldn’t hear any breathing from the woman above, couldn’t hear her footsteps. Her thoughts had grown silent. Where was she?

He panicked, unable to believe he couldn’t sense her presence. He risked peeking around the corner.

Strong hands grabbed him around the neck and threw him down on the stairs. The pain sent shock waves through his body, and Fil cried out. The assassin wore a mask over her face, unlike the man who’d attacked him earlier. She straddled him on the steps and pressed a forearm against his throat, cutting off the flow of air to his lungs.