by L. A. Witt
“No, no, of course not. It’s . . .” He paused, then took a deep breath and met my eyes with such intensity I nearly drew back. “I hope you can forgive me if I don’t explain what it does. We’ve only just met, and I . . .” He dropped his gaze again. “I cannot trust this information with just anyone.”
“I understand.” And I did. It was only wise for both of us to be wary of each other. “He called you a doctor. What kind of doctor are you?”
“I’m a professor. At a university. And a scientist. I study and build machinery.”
That explained his comments about modifying the mech. “He also said you didn’t have a team when you arrived because of your reputation in Chicago.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Is that what he said?” He rested his head against the bulkhead and gazed upward. “My, my, Sidney. Your men are getting creative.”
“Sidney?”
“Dr. Henry Sidney. My, uh, rival. Another scientist.” He met my eyes. “The truth is I came to Seattle alone because there wasn’t a man I could trust in Chicago.”
“But you can trust a stranger?” And can I?
“Anyone I hired in Chicago could’ve been in cahoots with Sidney. And, well, a stranger can’t tell secrets he doesn’t know.” John put his hand on my knee, the first contact he’d made since leaving my bed. “I mean it, Robert. If you don’t feel safe, if you’d prefer to join another team or continue on alone, I’ll understand. I’ll still pay you as promised, of course, but . . . I should have warned you about all of this before we left.”
I moistened my lips. Half a journey’s pay for only getting as far as Ketchikan, and then joining another team for more money? Tempting. Very tempting.
But I liked John. And I hadn’t left Montana for an easy journey to the gold fields—the adventure had appealed to my brothers and me as much as the riches that waited.
“Robert? I won’t be angry, I swear it. If you want—”
“No.” I squared my shoulders. “No, I want to continue with you.”
His eyebrows flicked upward. “Are you sure? This could get dangerous.”
I grinned. “Well, that’ll just make the wealth that much sweeter, won’t it?”
He stared at me, disbelief etched across his creased forehead. Then he laughed and patted my knee. “I think you and I are going to get along quite well.”
From the Diary of Dr. Jonathon W. Fauth — September 16, 1898
My travels continue to be blessedly smooth, though I expect that to change as I continue into the rugged north. The waters of the Inside Passage are calm, especially to a man who’s endured the wrath of the Atlantic, and though the accommodations are anything but lavish, they keep our heads dry and our bellies full enough. Given what’s ahead, I shall not complain.
Once we’re ashore, we’ll be tasked with maneuvering the mech that carries our provisions. The mechs are odd beasts. They are clunky, clumsy contraptions consisting of a wide, flat metal platform with raised sides to hold all our gear. Huge cogs and gears power eight spidery legs designed to—allegedly—claw their way with ease up the icy pass that stands between us and the Klondike. I’ve not yet had the opportunity to investigate its inner workings, but surely there will be time for that while we camp along the trail.
On either side of the small, boiler-powered engine, two long levers are attached to the mech’s front corners, much like reins to a horse’s bit, and like reins, they steer the brass creature. It remains to be seen how effectively they’ll perform that task when the terrain turns to ice. If this machine survives its journey, I may have to bring it back to Chicago with me. After all, my colleagues would never believe any man would be foolish enough to rely on such a thing, particularly in such conditions. I only hope we can rely on ours all the way to the end of the journey ahead.
I’ve made reference to ‘we’ rather than ‘I.’ This is because my previously singular travels have recently become an accompanied journey. I’ve written of my plans to acquire a team for the Alaskan and Canadian legs, but those plans have manifested in a most unexpected manner—I expected a team of simpleminded brutes with gold fever, but instead I’ve hired a young man called Robert. Between us, I expect we’ll manage—a larger team would’ve meant a more heavily laden mech, and I can’t imagine the machines are any less clumsy when weighed down.
I encountered Robert by chance in a saloon, and he all but begged to come with me to Dawson City. And for half the going wage, too. Naturally, with the pauper’s budget on which I travel, I couldn’t pass up a man willing to work for so little. What’s unexpected besides his wage is his company. Robert is quite clever. He’s usually quiet, content just to listen to those around him or take in his surroundings. I always fear I’ll bore someone with scientific babbling, as my brothers call it, but Robert always seems positively spellbound. Small talk and chatter bore him like they do me, but the instant a conversation turns to something with more substance—astronomy, history, the habits of the whales that passed by our vessel this morning—he sits up and leans in close, listening like a man about to learn some invaluable secret. I could easily be spoiled, having such a man with whom to converse.
In his idle time—and my Lord, there is plenty of that on this damned ship—Robert’s made judicious use of the books I’ve brought along. He devours them like I only wish my students would.
Given the arduous journey ahead, I’ll consider Robert’s company to be a welcome bright spot, something to perhaps temper the misery to come.
In spite of the pleasure of Robert’s company and the relative smoothness of my travels thus far, there remains one dark cloud over it all—Sidney’s men are relentless in their pursuit. I had—perhaps foolishly—hoped they might lose my trail in Seattle, but they’re aboard this vessel. As such, I remain in our quarters as much as I can, leaving only when absolutely necessary and taking the device with me when I do.
We’ll arrive in Ketchikan soon, and there I will elude them as best I can. From Ketchikan, the trails branch out in dozens of directions—my only hope is that we choose different paths. Alas, all trails converge on either White Pass or Chilkoot Pass, and even if Sidney’s men take White Pass while we take Chilkoot, our paths will converge again in Dawson City.
I only hope we get there first.
From the steamboat, we’d been able to see dry land, but it had been out of reach. I’d nearly begun to believe I’d never set foot on anything besides a boat deck again, but finally, we docked in Ketchikan.
To my surprise, unloading the boat was an efficient process. I supposed the dockworkers had had time to perfect this, but it still amazed me to watch a steady stream of mechs, men, and horses moving onto the dock with little incident. Though some of the horses must not have seen mechs before—at least one spooked, overturning a cart and sending three men onto their backsides in the mud, but no serious injury or damage.
It was strange to be walking on solid, unmoving ground. The mud was thick and sloppy, grabbing on to our boots and our mech’s feet, but at least the ground beneath that mud wasn’t listing and tilting. The seasickness that had lurked constantly in my gut was finally gone. Even the salty, smoky smells of Ketchikan didn’t turn my stomach like the boat’s relentless bobbing.
John grinned at me over the mech as we maneuvered it through the clusters of men, mechs, and horses choking the narrow, muddy street. “Feeling better? You look a bit less green.”
“Much better, yes. I’m just glad we won’t be getting on a boat again anytime soon.”
“You’re not the only one.” He chuckled. “Just be glad you’ve never gone across an ocean in one. Weeks on end of that madness.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I think I’d take my chances with one of those.” I gestured at the north end of Ketchikan where a pair of airships hovered over the rows of buildings, their enormous balloon tops swollen and ready to burst. Dozens of ropes were pulled taut to keep the bizarre crafts from floating away.
“They do look awfully tempting, don�
�t they?”
“Better than weeks on end of walking through this.” I tugged my boot free from the mud before setting it down in the thick slop again.
“Tempting, yes.” John glanced at the airships again, but then shook his head. “Don’t know that I’d trust one, myself, though.”
I glanced at him. “Why not?”
“If they were reliable, they’d be carrying men all over the world, not just back and forth from this place to Dawson City.” He scowled at the pair of crafts. “And at least if a mech breaks down, the worst that happens is we have to repair it or carry our things. One of those breaks down . . .”
I turned and watched the airships for a moment. The complex systems of engines and propellers were a thing of beauty—I’d seen one in Seattle shortly before it had gone on to Ketchikan—but as with anything, I supposed there was room for failure. And a failed airship was hardly going to just take a knee or limp along like a damaged mech.
We continued through the town, moving at a snail’s pace in the thick crowd. There wasn’t a room available, but on the outskirts, a vast tent city was growing by the hour. John and I followed the rest of the people and mechs in that direction—at least it gave us an opportunity to learn to maneuver our clunky machine. Every time a horse effortlessly trotted by, whether carrying a man or pulling a cart, I wondered if perhaps we’d bought a con man’s junk.
Then I saw a blacksmith shoeing a big gray mare and thought twice. Neither John nor I could shoe a horse, and there’d probably be less and less grass available the farther north we traveled. The mech may have been clumsy and clunky, but it wouldn’t throw a shoe or starve to death, and it had spare parts. I’d repaired enough farm equipment, I could hold my own if necessary. John seemed to know his way around machinery too.
And with a little luck, the mech wouldn’t break down anyway.
After we’d set up camp, John began inspecting our mech. He ran his long fingers all over the joints, the rivets, the lines connecting the boiler to the engine. Brow furrowed and lips taut, he inspected every inch of it.
I watched him for a moment. “Something wrong?”
“Not yet, no.”
“What does that mean?”
He stood straighter, shaking his head. “This is a terrible design.”
“How so?”
“Look at these relief valves.” He tapped one with a gloved fingertip. “They’re far too small for a device like this.” He clicked his tongue. “They either need to be bigger, or there should be more of them.”
“So, what does that mean? If they fail?”
“Well, if one of them fails, the others will probably hold temporarily, but they’re not designed to cope with that much pressure.” He stood, gaze still fixed on the machine. “If two fail, it’ll overheat within minutes.”
I eyed the mech warily. “And if it overheats . . .?”
“Best case, it cools down while we repair the valves, and then it runs again. Quite possibly, the coils and tubing melt, and it never runs again.” He turned to me. “Worst case, the engine explodes.”
I stared at him. “Explodes?”
He nodded.
Shifting my gaze back to the machine, I asked, “Wouldn’t we have heard about explosions by now? There’ve been thousands of these things on the trail.”
“There must be a fail-safe in it somewhere. Something that shuts the whole thing down.” He tapped the relief valve. “I’d have added a couple more relief valves, myself.”
“But, as it’s built now . . .”
John shrugged. “It’ll probably be fine, quite honestly. Especially on something this small, I’d say the risk of explosion is only significant if all three valves are disabled, and the boiler has had time to build up enough pressure.” He waved a hand. “I just loathe equipment that isn’t built to be efficient and sturdy. Particularly with the conditions we’ll be facing.” He laughed and gestured dismissively. “I’m also not easily pleased when it comes to machinery, so don’t lose any sleep over my analysis.”
Don’t lose any sleep over a boiler that might explode. Of course.
“Anyway, I was going to wander into the town,” I said. “Do you want to come with me? This will be our last chance for a proper hot meal for a while.”
“And the first one since Seattle.” John gestured toward the town. “You go on. I’ll stay here. I’d just as soon not leave things unattended.”
I almost protested but bit it back. So what if the men had confronted me on the boat? I wasn’t going to spend this journey cowering beside John like a child. “Uh, all right. Should I bring anything back for you?”
John thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “No, I think I’ll be fine.”
While he continued peering at our mech, I trudged through the mud back to the main road through town.
I’d heard that Ketchikan had been a lot like Seattle—just a ramshackle village up until the prospectors had started streaming through. Then buildings had sprung up all along the crowded, muddy streets. Hotels had been built on top of outfitters and saloons.
Pity they didn’t have rooms available. No matter, though. We’d have to get used to sleeping in tents and on bedrolls anyway.
I wandered past the shops down by the docks, perusing their bins for anything John or I might find useful. The outfitters had mostly the same things as the ones in Seattle—boots, clothing, coffee, bacon—but priced much higher. One man repaired and sold mechs, but I didn’t bother looking at his prices, not even out of curiosity.
The hotels and bars were packed with people, and the smells of baking and frying wafted out into the crowded street. My mouth watered. I hadn’t been able to eat much of anything the last few days, and the prospect of freshly baked bread or a—
Oh no.
I stopped dead, nearly sliding in the mud. People said that a few weeks out on the trail made every man look alike—haggard, tired, dirty—but I’d have recognized those three faces anywhere. One in particular.
Heart thumping, I nestled my face into my collar, turned around, and went back the way I’d come. Faster this time. I wanted to break into a run, but that would’ve drawn attention, so I just kept pace with those who moved briskly through the crowd. I didn’t dare look back.
I ducked into an alley, breaking away from the throngs of people, and jogged down the narrow path, boots splashing in puddles. At the other end, I whipped around the corner and—
One of the men grabbed my arm. “Ah, there you are.”
The second appeared beside me. “We need to have a talk, son. C’mere.”
Before I could shout for help, the second clapped a hand over my mouth, and the two of them pushed me back into the alley.
Where the third, the one who’d spoken to me on the boat, was waiting. “Well. Fancy meeting you here.” He stepped toward me. “Have you given my offer any more thought?”
I looked at each man in turn. “Now that you’re dragging me into alleys and cornering me, it sounds like more of an order than an offer.”
“You’re smarter than I thought.” He came closer, pushing me back against the wall. The others stood to either side, blocking any chance I had of escaping. “Listen, Robert. We—”
“How do you know my name?”
“I know plenty about you. In fact, them girls at your whorehouse back in Seattle were kind enough to tell us exactly what you did there.” He tilted his head toward the end of the alley. “Wouldn’t take much to find you a whole new clientele here in Ketchikan.”
My blood was colder than the frigid air around us. “I don’t even know who you are. Why are you so interested in me?”
“I’m not. You know where my interests lie.”
“And I told you I’m not getting involved.”
“Robert.” He touched my face, the cold leather of his glove caressing my cheek. “You’re already involved. And I’m running out of patience.”
“Then talk to John,” I growled, willing my voice to stay steady. “I have
nothing to do—”
“We’ve discussed this. You’ve been involved since you joined up with him. Now . . .” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m done asking. I want my device back, and you are going to get it back for me.”
“Am I? Or what?”
He trailed a gloved finger down the side of my throat. “Or there’s plenty of men in this town who’d pay a pretty penny for a boy like you.” His lips peeled back in a grin that sent a sickening chill right through me. “Now, am I going to get my device or not?”
“How do I know it’s yours?” I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. “How do I know you’re not stealing it from him?”
He folded his arms across his broad chest and inclined his head. “I thought you weren’t getting involved. Now you’re the judge and jury?”
“You’re asking me to steal something. I think I have a right to know who the real owner is.”
“So you’re going to get it for me, yes?”
“I didn’t say that.”
His lips tightened. I refused to let my fear show, but it was there, coiled tightly around my spine and twisting in my gut.
Then he grabbed my collar and jerked me forward, throwing me off balance. Before I could recover, he spun me around and shoved me face-first against the cold wooden wall. With his knee, he shoved my legs apart. A hand grabbed my testicles so roughly I gasped. I couldn’t release that breath. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.
“I want the device back,” he snarled in my ear. His grip tightened, bringing tears to my eyes. “Do you understand me?”
I tried to speak, but the air in my lungs refused to move.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes!” I managed to force out the single word and hated that it sounded close to a sob.
One of the other men stepped in. “Let him go, Logan.”
My attacker hesitated, but then released me. I dropped to my knees. Immediately, he squatted beside me and jerked my head back by the hair, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I want my device back. Am I clear?”