above the surface of
Saline Valley, between the Inyo Mountains in the west, and another
range called The Grandstand to the east.
The valley was actually a flat featureless expanse of
sand, a huge, dry lakebed; which also happened to be part of a
federal wilderness preserve. No twentieth century roads had even
been built here; the area was pristine.
Fox had worked in the western Mojave for most of his
professional career. With the advent of anti-gravity technology,
the Naval Air Weapons Station at China Lake had become Fox’s home
away from home. This latest project was tucked away in a highly
restricted no fly zone, a hundred and sixty miles from his family,
in Angel City.
Fox watched the facility shrinking in the distance
behind him. The vehicle displayed real-time updates regarding their
flight into Angel City. Compensating for fluctuations where the
magnetic current of high desert pushed up against the mountains,
the gravity drive hurled the armored luxury cruiser through the low
clouds. Unless Fox interrupted it, the daemon would keep them on
course and on schedule.
Dr. Fox settled back into the co-pilot’s seat. He
seldom took the pilot's chair unless he intended to fly the ship
himself. Usually he couldn't resist the competitive traffic
conditions closer to the city, but out here, drifting along the
wide lip of the desert, he was happy to enjoy the scenery and
relax. Fox let the ship's virtual pilot do its thing, while he
focused on letting the weight of his body be taken up by the
chair.
The attack that had driven him from the facility
seemed to have subsided. It was the thought, the concept. Was it
alien? Was it from outside his mind?
Fox suspected it was possible to ignite, or rather
detonate, the terillium atom. Terillium was believed to be
bulletproof, fire proof and in all other ways indestructible. It
could be dissolved into other metals but only in a vacuum furnace
or forge.
Yet Fox knew, using the Micronix device, any
significant terillium deposit could be detonated with a single
thought. The yield only depended on the ability of the initiator to
sharpen his focus.
Fox terrified himself with the implications of the
concept. Charged with enough energy; the antigravity drive in any
transport would ignite an entire city structure. One detonation
would spread until it consumed every bit of alloy it could reach. A
city could be devastated in an instant. He feared the combustion
concepts had been shared among the prisoners who made up the test
subjects of the Epsilon project. If he were honest with himself,
he'd fled the facility.
The thought had troubled him before, but never with
such passion. Epsilon was a lost cause. How could Washington
have done this to him? Did they realize what they were getting into
here? Catastrophe was inevitable.
Fox knew he must pack for what could be an indefinite
stay aboard the facility. If he couldn’t shut the project down
completely, he would have to try to stem the tide as long as
possible. He would have this one evening to say goodbye to his wife
and children. If things didn't improve aboard Epsilon, he didn't
know if he'd ever be home again.
Fox placed his hand over the pocket and felt the
rectangle. He closed his eyes and called up the operating menu. In
the upper right corner of his visual awareness, the activity gauges
displayed their readings. He had created the Micronix device over
twenty years ago; he had wanted to share its benefits with
everyone. Now it felt as if his charity had been his error. He had
given up the power of a god in order to share it with all mankind.
If men proved unworthy, he would be responsible.
As if divine intervention had reached down and given
him the opportunity to rectify his mistake, the communications
panel before him lit up with an incoming call.
Fox answered, and the sour visage of Senator Miller
filled the monitor. "Fox. What's the word?”
"We haven't made any progress, Senator."
"Then we're going to have to pull the