Noble Metals

by L. A. Witt

  I nodded as much as his grip would allow.

  “When I see you again,” he hissed, “I would suggest you have what I’m looking for.”

  With that, he let go. I fell forward, catching myself before I dropped all the way onto the wet ground. For a moment, I didn’t move, just stayed there on my knees with an arm against the wall, shaking and trying to catch my breath as cold mud soaked through my trousers.

  What the hell did I do now?

  John was writing in his journal beside the fire when I stumbled back into our campsite. As soon as he saw me, he dropped the journal and stood. “Robert? Are you all right?”

  “Those men from the boat.” I suppressed a shudder. “They’re here.”

  “Did they—” He looked me up and down, pausing on the mud on my knees, and he paled. “Robert, what did they do to you?”

  “Besides letting me know in no uncertain terms what would happen if I didn’t bring them your device?”

  He cringed, cursing under his breath. “I should’ve known they’d—”

  “What the hell is going on?” I waved a hand toward the town. “These men just cornered me in an alley and threatened to whore me to anyone who’d pay unless I—”

  “What?” John’s eyes widened. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” He reached for me, and I sidestepped him.

  “Answer me, John.” I pointed at the half-hidden wooden box. “What is in that thing, and why do they want it bad enough that they’re willing to threaten me? And damn it, who does it belong to?”

  He showed his palms. “It belongs to me, Robert.”

  “Prove it.”

  “I—” His eyes darted around our campsite. “I don’t dare take it out here. It’s . . .” He shook his head. “I can prove it, but not here.”

  “Then where?”

  “When we’re out on the trail, I can—”

  “No. I need to know I can trust you before I get out on the trail with you. I . . . for God’s sake, John, who are these men? How long have they been following you?”

  John sighed. “I’ve tried to lose them several times since I left Chicago, but there’s no eluding them when they know my destination. And all trails to the Klondike converge at one of two passes, and the trails from the passes converge in Dawson City.” He half shrugged. “All I can do is try to stay as far ahead of them as I can.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve considered changing your destination.”

  He eyed me as if I’d lost my mind. “Where else can I go? I need platinum.”

  “How much are you willing to pay for it?”

  “Have you seen the price per ounce of platinum?”

  I folded my arms. “Is it greater than your life?”

  “My work is my life.”

  I blinked. “John, are you—”

  “You’re risking your neck to dig for gold. I’m just risking mine for a different metal.”

  “But I don’t—or at least didn’t until recently—have someone following me and threatening me.” I dropped my hands to my sides. “Look, I knew the journey to the Klondike would be dangerous, but this is not what I bargained for.”

  “No, it’s not.” John lowered his gaze. After a moment, he met mine again. “I don’t want to put you in danger, Robert. Find another team. I won’t leave Ketchikan until you’ve secured a place with others, and I’ll still pay you.”

  “Can you afford to pay someone who’s—”

  “I owe it to you.”

  I searched his eyes. “What about your provisions? The mech?”

  “I’ll manage it.” He gestured at the bustling tent city. “There’s plenty of men here. I’ll find . . . I can work something out.” Glancing at the mech, he added, “I can’t stay here long. I’ll hold your gear until you’ve found a team, but—”

  “But hurry. I get it.”

  He held my gaze, then nodded and extended his hand. “Good luck to you, Robert.”

  I hesitated, but then shook his hand. “Good luck to you.”

  From the Diary of Dr. Jonathon W. Fauth — September 18, 1898

  It appears I’ll be continuing my journey on my own. Robert has gone to join another team, and I can’t begrudge him that. He came to me last night, badly shaken after another run-in with Sidney’s men. I fear they may be more determined than I’d guessed. While finding someone else will be difficult, I can’t ask Robert to stay with me at his own peril.

  Men in search of teams—and teams in search of men—are in short supply. And going on alone . . . well, I don’t suppose I can. I cannot maneuver the mech alone, nor carry the necessary provisions on my own back. There are horses and mules for sale here. They may be my only option. But what if one breaks a leg? Falls ill? Bolts?

  No, I don’t dare think about that now. I will find traveling company tomorrow. I must. I have no choice.

  Though I’m in haste, I’ve promised to hold Robert’s provisions until he can secure a team. As such, I don’t see myself setting out for a day or two. I can’t wait long, not with those men nearby, but perhaps the delay will give me time to work out how to elude them. I am seeking alternatives to my original plan of following the trail to Chilkoot Pass. Though I’m unconvinced of their safety and reliability, in desperation I attempted to acquire a ticket for an airship leaving from here in a couple of days. Anything to gain ground ahead of Sidney’s men before they’re able to obtain my device.

  Alas, not even a year’s salary could secure me a seat.

  There are stories filtering down about terrible weather on the White Pass route, so if I’m unable to find air- or water-based transportation, I may have no choice but to continue as planned. I will venture out in the morning to find a team to join.

  Time and again, I wonder if perhaps it was foolish of me to take this journey myself. Surely there is better use of a scientist’s time than gallivanting all over this godforsaken countryside in search of a few grains of metal that may or may not be hidden beneath the ice. I am not entirely idle—and I will be walking for many, many hours over the next few weeks before I begin mining—but I am restless nonetheless. I should be working in a lab. Perfecting my devices and racing Tesla and Edison to the semiconductor technology that is just beyond my fingertips.

  I cannot reach the Klondike soon enough. And I only hope its ground bears the platinum I so desperately need.

  If it doesn’t . . .

  Well. I suppose that doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?

  September 18, 1898 – cont’d

  As I lie alone in my tent, I should be able to sleep, but I cannot. Though my body is exhausted, my mind refuses to rest.

  The camp is alive with activity at all hours of the night. Men coming and going. Dogs barking. Horses making noise. The feet and engines of mechs.

  I’ve slept through far louder, though. It’s nothing but my own paranoia keeping me up tonight. Each time I begin to drift off, I snap awake, certain I’m about to be robbed of the device. At this rate, I’ll wake up missing either the device or my mind.

  My one comfort is that I am the only one in danger because of this damned contraption. I admit I miss Robert’s company—I had looked forward to continuing our conversations out on the trail, but I do not wish to put him in danger.

  I haven’t seen him since he left. I do hope he’s safe and has found a team to take him north.

  It’s nearly midnight now. I really must sleep.

  My back ached after bedding down on the hard floor of a hotel room with my pack as a pillow. Just as well that I got used to sleeping uncomfortably—there wouldn’t be a soft mattress under me anytime soon.

  Susan, the prostitute who’d let me sleep on her floor, was still asleep. As quietly as I could, I gathered my things. Before slipping out the door, I left a dollar on her dresser. At least that much she’d be able to keep for herself instead of splitting with the madam. Any whore would’ve appreciated it just as this one appreciated the warm, safe place to sleep.

  Then I hoisted my pac
k onto my shoulders and made my way out of the brothel and into the already-bustling street.

  Arriving in Seattle a lifetime ago, I’d been filled with the excitement of a young man embarking on a great adventure. Standing in Ketchikan, the town as unfamiliar as Seattle was back then, I was instead filled with fear. There was no turning back this time. Even if I didn’t want to continue to Dawson City, I had nowhere else to go.

  And this time, I was alone.

  Alone, and without the naïveté that had made me see adventure, not danger, at every turn. Amazing what a few months could do to a man.

  And now, somehow, I had to find another team to get me to Dawson City. Assuming I could find a group whose company was less dangerous than going it alone. Or staying with John. Or giving in to the threats from those three men.

  The misty rain gave me an excuse to keep my hat low and my head down, shielding my face. I huddled inside my jacket as I debated what to do next. Where was I supposed to find a team in this town? And what if there weren’t any with room on their mechs for my gear? Assuming I still had gear—I’d only taken what I could carry when I’d left John’s tent. Though I wasn’t convinced John was a thief, I also barely knew him, and I didn’t like leaving my provisions in his custody while I sought out another team. But what choice did I have? Without a horse or a mech, I couldn’t carry that much gear on my own if I wanted to.

  I just hoped I found a team and a mech before John’s impatience drove him out of Ketchikan.

  There was more competition in Seattle, but there were also more men willing to hire. Here in Ketchikan, teams were already formed. Provisions acquired, tasks assigned. The only teams with room were those who’d lost members along the way, whether from desertion or death. God help me if I needed to do this again in any of the other towns along the way.

  I found a few teams who needed more hands, but by noon, I’d had the same conversation at least five times over.

  “Where you from?”

  “Montana.”

  “Montana?” Then came the smirk and the slow down-up look. “How’d you even get here, boy? That pack looks like it’s heavy enough to flatten you.”

  “I’m stronger than I look.”

  The prospector would eye me again, this time like he was sizing up a piece of livestock. Then the inevitable shake of the head. “I’m afraid not. But good luck, son.”

  Over and over and over.

  By late afternoon, I’d all but given up. I was running out of daylight as fast as I was running out of options, and soon, I’d have to find a bed for the night instead of a team for the journey. And if my luck continued like this, I’d have to seek a way to make money before what I had ran out. I’d have plenty once John paid me, assuming he did, but I knew all too well how quickly the coffers could run dry.

  I gulped. There was one way I knew to earn money in an outpost town crawling with men who were hundreds if not thousands of miles from home.

  No, I wasn’t giving up yet. I’d find someone tomorrow. For now, I needed to find food and a bed.

  I wandered into a saloon near the docks. Money was in short supply, but I could spare fifteen cents for some whiskey. I found a table near the edge of the barroom, and while I drank, I searched the men in the room, sizing them up as best I could.

  I’d seen many of them before. Some had been on the boat from Seattle to Ketchikan. A few had been into Ernest and Beatrice’s place. That wasn’t a surprise—their saloon was one of the more popular places for travelers to drink, gamble, and fuck before moving on to Alaska.

  One caught my eye. I paused for a moment but couldn’t remember where I’d seen him. Probably on the boat or around town. I moved on to watching everyone else, but then a memory flashed through my mind, and I shifted my gaze back to him. He was watching me now, eyebrows low over dark eyes as he brought his glass to his lips. His beard was thicker than it had been before, but I recognized him all right.

  And he clearly recognized me. My gut clenched as he stood and made his way to where I sat. Without waiting for an invitation, he took a seat in the chair next to mine and, safely under the table where no one else could see, he slid a hand over my thigh. “Thought I recognized you. All the work in Seattle dried up?” He grinned. “Or you headin’ north to earn some gold like the rest of us?”

  I resisted the urge to shove his hand away. “North. For gold. Yes.”

  His grin got bigger. “Man like you won’t even need to dig.” He winked, and I struggled not to shudder. Then he leaned in and lowered his chin and his voice. “You know, I’ve got half a dozen men sharing two mechs. We’re leaving tomorrow for White Pass. Pay’s the going rate, but I’ll beat whatever your team’s paying you as long as you’re willing to be discreet.” His thumb ran alongside my leg. “Interested?”

  I swallowed. The offer got my attention, though the hand on my thigh made my skin crawl. He hadn’t been the worst man I’d serviced, not by a mile, but I was desperate to leave that life behind once and for all.

  Still, if letting him fuck me meant going north . . .

  “There’s room for my provisions?”

  “Of course.” He subtly kneaded my leg through my trousers. “Plenty of room in the tents too.”

  “I . . .” Didn’t have many other options. “Where’s your team?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He disappeared into the saloon’s crowd for a moment, and when he returned, he had five men with him. He was a large man himself, and the other four dwarfed him. They were hulking men, the kind my grandfather hired in droves to work on the farm. The ones who could nearly double as oxen and draft horses. Shoulders too wide for doorways, arms as big around as my leg.

  Plenty of room in the tents. With them. Oh lord.

  The one I’d met before stopped and gestured at me. “I’ve found us some hands for hire.”

  One of the others folded his arms across his dirty, tattered jacket as he peered down at me. “Little small, ain’t he?”

  I gritted my teeth.

  The first shrugged. “He’s made it this far.”

  The second snorted. “So he managed to not fall off a boat.” He shook his head, and as he turned to go, he said, “Good luck, kid.”

  The first sighed, watching his companions go, and faced me again. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” I threw back what was left in my whiskey glass. “Good luck to you and your men.”

  I got up and started past him, but he caught my arm. “I don’t suppose you’re available to hire for one night, are you?”

  I met his eyes. I barely remembered the night he’d spent in my bed, which meant there hadn’t been anything horrible about him. Nothing dangerous or cruel. I shifted my weight. “Will that change my outcome with them?”

  He scowled and shook his head. “Once Jack’s made his decision . . .”

  Still, it was worth considering. It would take care of where I’d sleep tonight. It would also mean more money in my pocket, which would buy me time to find a team who would hire me. I’d leave my profession behind starting tomorrow, then.

  I took a breath, but a booming voice stopped me before I spoke.

  “Lars, c’mon.” The one called Jack beckoned sharply to my would-be companion.

  “Damn.” He turned to me and grinned again. “Would’ve been a pleasant way to spend our last evening before hitting the trail.”

  I managed a small smile and nodded, and a moment later, he was gone. To my surprise, I was disappointed at the interruption. The arrangement wouldn’t have been ideal, but it would have been money and a bed for the night.

  Then a thought jolted me. If there was one man here I’d serviced, there could be more. And what about Sidney’s men? They knew my face and my profession.

  If word got out, there were those who were disgusted to the point of violence by men like me.

  Or, worse—those who were aroused to the point of violence by men like me.

  Suddenly, I felt conspicuous inside the stuffy
barroom, almost choking on the air that was thick with musk, sweat, and liquor, and my heart beat faster. I needed to get outside. To breathe.

  Once there, I hurried down the street, not sure where I was going, only that I didn’t want to stand still. All the while, my mind raced.

  As soon as I left Ketchikan, I’d be alone with whichever team I’d joined. Out in the wilderness. At the mercy of men who I had no reason to trust. And after the last few months, I knew all too well how quickly a seemingly decent man could turn into a monster.

  A well-dressed gentleman had come to the cardroom one night. He’d been one of the more eccentric visitors to Ernest and Beatrice’s saloon, and he hadn’t cared one whit if anyone knew he bedded men—he’d asked me to sit beside him at the card table the way the girls often sat with the men they were wooing. He’d teased and flirted, kissing me right on the mouth in front of the visibly uncomfortable gamblers at his table, and more than once he’d hinted about buying me a ticket beside him on the airship he was taking the next morning.

  Then he’d retired with me to my room. Beatrice was a harsh madam and rarely let us take nights off, but after that man left, she didn’t ask me to work again for a full week.

  Anyone in Ketchikan could turn out the same way, and I didn’t like these odds—anyone who agreed to hire me might be cruel or turn violent if he found out I’d bedded men, for pay or otherwise.

  I slowly turned in the general direction of the tent city. John was the only man in this town who I could predict. Even if he was a thief, I couldn’t believe he was dangerous to me. And at least I already knew what kind of man John was with a prostitute. Perhaps not affectionate, but he had a gentle hand. Unless he was extremely adept at keeping his Mr. Hyde beneath the surface, John was not someone to fear, despite the men pursuing him.

  On the other hand, although John hadn’t touched me since we’d left my room at the brothel, he knew what I was and what I did. Sooner or later . . .

  Still, I was safest with him. And least safe with him.

  Either way, I didn’t see any appealing alternatives.