New Fort Pulaski prepared to withstand its second assault in three months. Its outer hexagonal walls were near fully exposed, the water around them little deeper than wading depth as the tide reached its nadir. Logistics teams on the structure’s six wharfs filled waiting boats with rapid relief supplies for the mainland once the looming storm made landfall.
Forklifts—manned by soldiers, no fully automated vehicles were allowed in Tidewater military bases—moved the supplies from the repositories built into the fort’s inner layer of walls, with only a skeleton force stationed on the battlements to man the fort’s turrets, observation posts, and radar stations.
The center of the fort was quieter, with the courtyard around the central, 40-foot lightning rod all but deserted. All of its activity had moved below.
A few stories underneath the lightning rod, the lab was even busier than the loading docks. Scientists clad in white work gear with small navy-and-saffron insignias buzzed around the central room around the lightning rod’s base, connecting thousands of batteries first to larger batteries, then to the base of the lightning rod. The rod’s base had a new resistor installed the prior week: a shimmering crystal of bismuth, the largest ever manufactured. Its sharp edges and prismatic colors were in stark contrast to the near monochrome which otherwise dominated the complex.
“Make sure half the child batteries are wired in series with the other half in parallel.” Came a voice over the intercom, overcoming the din of the cooling fans above and below the testing floor. A few of the techs nodded; the rest just continued their work.
“Doctor Holcomb, why are we building different circuits for the batteries? I thought they were all the same.” An officer said; unlike everyone else on the lower level, his uniform was navy blue instead of white.
“Good question Major. The parent batteries absorb the initial shock, and while the child batteries can handle quite a bit of both voltage and current, we haven’t performed a full-scale test with a lightning strike, so we don’t know which they’ll be able to handle better. After the initial reduction of wattage from the bismuth crystal and the parent batteries, the series reduces the voltage load and parallel reduces the current load. It also means that even if half overload or fail some other way, the other half should get you the power you need. And please, call me Kalpana. Though I’m really feeling more like Kali right now.” Kalpana said, giving just the hint of a smirk as she rubbed her pendant, which was about a 1:20 model of the giant crystal at the base of the lightning rod.
‘Contractors.’ The Major thought to himself before turning back to Kalpana. “Well, let’s hope that Kali isn’t in a particularly disruptive mood today; I’d much rather have everything run smoothly.” He said.
“I’m sorry Major, but I disagree, at least about disruption part. I’m here to help you disrupt the balance of power in this region, with well, power. I wouldn’t be here if your superiors thought *this* couldn’t change things.” Kalpana said, gesturing to the crystal.
“Fair enough, Doctor.” The Major said. He folded his arms as the last few batteries were wired together. Once the head tech gave a black-gloved thumbs up, Kalpana was back on the intercom.
“Closing the floor in sixty. Sealing the rod in now.” A soldier clicked a button and a transparent polycarbonate sheath surrounded the lower sections of the lightning rod and crystal.
“And now we wait.” The Major said, turning to the radar map. “The edge of tropical Storm Eris is still eighteen miles out from us, which at its current speed is almost exactly an hour. At fifty-five minutes we start the procedure; earlier if lightning strikes are detected before then.”
“Yes sir.” Came echoes from all the rooms in the underground complex. Some would call it faulty soundproofing; the Major viewed it as fighting spirit.
After the brief cheer, the lower level was still, with the equipment’s dull hum providing the only noise.
Kalpani didn’t let the hanging silence last for long. “So Major, how’d you end up here?” She said, still fiddling with her pendant, the crystal’s radiance forming rainbows in her glasses.
“I was born into it. Well, more raised into it. I was barely a teenager when the Old South fragmented. My home island, St. Helena, was cut off when the two bridges connecting us to the mainland were destroyed by retreating cowards from Dixie. My people needed supplies, and my friends and I were able to . . . requisition some from abandoned bases and battlefields up and down the coast. At first it was just food, medicine, and some small arms, but with a few pieces of the right tech, we managed to turn our little island into enough of a fortress that the irregulars’ raids stopped too.” The Major said.
“I’m sorry, but a young officer from a—no offense—backwater island who’s also a logistics ace? And Saint Helena is also involved? You don’t believe in reincarnation, do you Major? Because this story sounds familiar.” Kalpani smirked, still looking down.
“Never thought of it like that Doctor. But that does explain why I’m married to probably the only woman alive who’s named Josephine.” The Major said.
“REALLY?” Kalpani nearly screamed, finally looking up. She almost fell out of her chair as she leaned forward.
“No. I just wanted to see how you’d react.” The Major laughed.
“You got me there Major. But don’t think that a good joke means you get to dodge my question. Do you believe in reincarnation?” Kalpani’s eyes focused solely on him, ignoring the billions (or trillions, depending on the currency) in scientific marvels surrounding them.
“I believe that history repeats itself, but in slightly different ways. Indigo flowers get harvested every year and always produce beautiful dye, but do the plants grow to the same height? Do the flowers have the same amount of pedals? Is the dye the exact same color? No, but things aren’t any worse for it either. Much like that, I don’t think I’m the actual second coming of Napoleon Bonaparte. Can I fill a similar, but much smaller role? I reckon so, but I guess we’ll have to see.” He paused, allowing himself a brief smile. “And what about you Doctor? How’d you end up here? Are you the reincarnation of Marie Curie? Maybe Benjamin Franklin with how much you love lightning.”
“Not quite. Well, probably not. Born in Pacific City, Oregon, well, Cascadia, just a few years before The Split. By the time I was an adult, things had settled in my part of the continent. I studied in Corvallis, mainly wind, but always felt like there was more I could do, especially with the region’s geothermal and biomass potential, plus atmospheric solar since there are so many fucking clouds.” She laughed for a second. “Anyway, after I graduated, I started an R&D firm in Jefferson.” Kalpani said.
“Jefferson? Aren’t they and Cascadia . . .”
“Yes, they are. But I wanted to be my own boss, and didn’t feel like going to Portland or Seattle on bended knee every year for funding. Plus Jefferson offers very nice financial incentives for ‘economic refugees,’ as they called us.” Kalpani said.
“That’s one way of putting it. How did you go from Jefferson to our little corner of the continent?” The Major asked.
“Well, Jefferson isn’t exactly lacking for energy. Biomass aquaculture, that geothermal deal with Yellowstone. Oil deposits off the coast and pipelines from The Prairies as well. They’re much more concerned with defense tech given their neighbors.” Kalpani paused.
“But as for why I’m specifically here, I have a few reasons. First, I’m being paid, and paid well. Second, I know what this experiment could entail if it works. The batteries from this experiment, especially the smaller ones, may be used to help civilians on the mainland who lose electricity during the storm, but in the future, that’s only going to be a secondary use. The main purpose, at least I imagine, will be making industrial production far cheaper, including desalination, something which y’all need.” Kalpani said; her attempt at regional slang was much more sincere than it was accurate.
“Not to mention that there are direct military uses too. You know better than I what this could do for your railguns. Longer range, faster recharging, improved armor penetration: you name it. Can you imagine souping up burner bikes with a couple of these batteries for rapid recon or raids, or maybe even larger vehicles? All that, plus shrimp and grits is a killer national dish.” She said.
“Now who’s the one dodging questions with humor?” He laughed. “Again Doctor, why specifically did you pick Tidewater? Those things you mentioned are true for more than a few Successor States.” The Major said.
“Because, like everyone else my age on this God-blessed-and-forsaken continent, my life has always been dominated by The Split. Almost every single Successor State is still obsessing over it. They’re either in denial, drowning in nostalgia for a long-dead past like the worshippers of some failed version of Vishnu, or they’re so busy congratulating themselves for moving on from an ‘evil’ past that they neither know nor care where they’re going. Here, people know we can’t go back, but they don’t pretend like what came before was some abomination either. There’s something . . . new about this place; just look at your land reclamation projects in the Gullah Islands. And in case you couldn’t tell, I like helping new things come to life. With any luck, you, we, will be more than just a buffer state, and soon. Who knows, maybe our little Republic will be like that fresh crop of indigo you mentioned a few minutes ago? ” Kalpani said.
“That’s the best answer I’ve heard in some time Doctor. Let’s hope your contraption performs half as well.” The Major said, going back to his reports.
At minute fifty-three, a bolt came on the screen. “We have lightning four miles out! All hands, prepare for next steps.” The Major said, with the few idle techs going back to their stations.
“Fans to maximum; hold on the liquid nitrogen.” Kalpani said.
The Major cut the audio. “Hold? This close? If there’s a strike before we deploy it, that crystal, our batteries, and everything else in that room will be fried. And quite possibly us along with them.” The Major said, his cordiality immediately replaced with steely professionalism.
“Yes, and if the liquid nitrogen is activated for too long it won’t be as cool, and we’ll get the same result. Do you have any idea how much heat this thing’s going to have to take? Indra, or Mother Nature if you prefer, is dropping 5 suns on it, albeit only for a second. Every degree counts Major.” Kalpani said.
While he considered his decision, one of his subordinates effectively made up his mind for him. “Another strike two miles out Sir.” Came a voice behind The Major.
“Thank you Sergeant.” The Major said, and turning the audio back on. “Liquid nitrogen in two minutes, regardless of how close the strikes are.”
“Yes, sir” echoed through the complex again.
Two minutes later, the liquid nitrogen was activated, with the liquid pumped into the chamber almost immediately boiling into frigid gas, producing a fog that covered up even the giant crystal’s shimmer. Kalpani gave The Major a dirty look but kept her mouth shut.
“All staff, goggles on. We’re about to get lit up.” The Major said, affixing his pair.
Less than a minute later, it struck. A trillion watts of raw power slammed into the rod at the speed of light, generating a main sequence star’s worth of heat as it worked its way down the stories-high copper structure.
It struck the frozen bismuth crystal, lighting it up so bright that is colors shone through the nitrogen fog, temporarily turning the military base into a disco hall with every color on the visible spectrum smattering the walls as a bomb’s worth of energy passed through the world’s largest—or at least most gorgeous—resistor.
As the light show started to die down, Kalpani went on the intercom. “Release nitrogen now!” She said as the sheath opened up, sending the glacial gas to fill up the room and hopefully prevent the batteries from overheating.
What remained of the lightning bolt’s ungodly power made it through the rod and crystal, and was sent through dozens of wires to the parent batteries, charging them almost instantaneously. Most survived, but a few overheated due to the nitrogen not being spread evenly across the room
Once the parent batteries were full, the excess electricity went to the child batteries; the current fried a few of the series circuits, while the parallel circuits held up well despite the extreme voltage. Within a minute, probably much less than that, the process was complete.
“Clear!” The Major yelled. “Begin collection now; I want every battery on a ship in half an hour or less!”
Techs in cold suits went into the still-frigid room to grab the intact batteries, loading them onto hovering pallets kept afloat by the iron built into the facility’s floor.
With no more orders to give, the Major turned his eyes back to Kalpani. “Well done Doctor. A few ‘casualties,’ but there’s no doubt this experiment was a success.” The Major said.
“Thank you Major.” Kalpani said, giving him an informal, two-fingered salute.
“Long live the Tidewater Republic.” The Major said, saluting back then holding out his hand.
“First and free.” Kalpani said, matching his smile as she clasped his hand.
Behind them, the nitrogen fog on the facility floor had cleared, and the crystal was absolutely shimmering.