For Always Roaming
A husky and her coyote lover try to settle down. But how long can they go without getting into trouble? Life may not let triangles stay still, but at least it's exciting.
A husky and her coyote lover try to settle down. But how long can they go without getting into trouble? Life may not let triangles stay still, but at least it's exciting.
This story takes place eighteen months after Annie Janssen and Keetso Edison rescued a steamship with their daring flight through an Alaskan snowstorm in "To Hold Him in a Spell." And now they're back from the Yukon, trying to figure out where their life will take them--getting into sappy, smutty adventures, mostly :) Thanks to Spudz for so much help with editing this, and thanks to huskies, who told me to write fantasies and showed them up with reality. My muse, and companion on_ roads well-traveled and completely untrod alike~_
Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.
"For Always Roaming," by Rob Baird
Keetso Edison didn't think himself much a fan of cities. The noise got to him most of all--the noise, and the inescapable, overwhelming crush of people. New York City was a far cry from Sitka, Alaska. An even further cry from the Yukon, and the glorious silence after a snowfall that had, itself, a way of becoming deafening.
"But you have to admit," his companion said, "it's beautiful."
Keetso cocked his head. "Do I? It's loud, for sure."
Annie squeezed the coyote's paw. "It's those ears of yours, love."
He grinned. "And my wild upbringing, don't forget."
More than one person on the train ride east from the Pacific coast commented on the strange pair. Even a year and a half in the Alaska Territory hadn't dampened the husky's ability to present an aristocratic bearing. She compounded the effect in Seattle by getting her best clothes out of storage--or perhaps they were her ordinary clothes? Either way, they looked a damned sight more fashionable than anything the coyote owned.
In the end, Keetso started telling fellow passengers that he was a savage, and she was teaching him the ways of civilization. Don't you think he's doing well? she would ask, playing along, and Keetso would curl his lip and growl if someone reached out to touch him. Which they did, since they saw him as a sort of pet.
Nobody believed they'd come from prospecting in the Yukon gold rush--none of them pictured the husky with her parka's hood cinched tight against a forty-below gale. Only Keetso knew that, and sometimes he could hardly believe it himself.
The same way he couldn't always believe they'd found each other. They'd met on the storm-tossed deck of a stricken steamship, when she'd joined him in volunteering for a rescue mission. And the wild flight, through a blizzard howling outside their fragile flying machine, seemed less fantastic sometimes than the eighteen months that followed.
Less far-fetched than how she could take his paw in hers, and the contact still sent a thrill like live electric current up his arm. Less implausible than the certainty he felt, lost in her eyes under the midnight sun, that only the husky existed in his life. Less absurd than letting her draw him--a desert dog who'd never seen more than twenty thousand people in one place--to New York and feeling it was all somehow part of the same grand adventure.
"I'll say that it's dramatic, though," the coyote granted. "A very different experience for me. I haven't really started missing the frozen north. Yet."
"Yet," she echoed, grinning back to him. "I'm giving it time, don't worry."
Annie had been the one to propose the visit; the husky was thinking about returning to school. Alaska was more limiting to her than it was to him: gold prospecting didn't offer many opportunities for someone trained to work on difference engines. The one in Sitka had been impressive to Keetso, but Annie called it second-rate and he trusted her judgment.
He didn't mind traveling. The coyote had no "home" to speak of, and he could find work pretty much anywhere. Training in electrical engineering helped--New York City was adopting the new technology enthusiastically. But he'd also earned his master's certificate as a pilot of karalidapters, lightweight utility flying machines that were common enough on the frontier and absolutely ubiquitous in the cities, where they buzzed about the docks and whisked the elite between their skyscrapers.
The pair had been walking down to the freight harbor to inquire about a job for him, and they reached it to find a dozen karalidapters at rest. They were of various sizes, but all shared the general plan: a long body, a fletched tail for stabilization, and two spinning wings amidships for lift and propulsion. They'd seen hard use, clearly; the head of the piloting guild said as much just after shaking Keetso's paw. "It's tough work out here. Challenging."
But the coyote had flown k-wings through very nearly the worst conditions Alaska had to throw at its inhabitants. Through driving salt spray, and blinding snow, and temperatures so cold the gears started to bind up. "I think I can manage."
"The starting rate is seventy cents per trip. Once you're hired on full-time, we'll go to a full dollar."
"Round-trip?"
"Ain't paying you to fly out to the ships, are we? Gotta get the cargo off. Anyway, on a bad day you can still get ten loads in. Ten dollars a day--not bad, eh?"
Certainly it wasn't, not for a bustling city like New York. No windfall like the best claim Annie and Keetso had found back in Alaska, but steady income, and respectable a job as a coyote was going to get. He told the man he was waiting for his union card in the mail but would come back to apply formally as soon as it arrived.
They headed to Columbia University afterwards, for their next appointment, this one on Annie's behalf. Halfway there, on a quiet side street, the husky stopped to give him a hug, casting a glance behind them in the vague direction of the docks. "It doesn't seem too bad--does it? I know it's not exciting..."
"I can do without the adventure."
She stuck out her tongue. They were alone, not quite in the tumult of New York's busy streets, and nobody could see the cheekiness. "I believe you, even."
But he could. Eighteen months netted them six thousand dollars in gold, and they'd sold the last claim for another twenty. It left them comfortable for awhile--not rich, but comfortable. He agreed readily when, after selling the claim, she proposed coming to New York. The east coast was a new experience for both of them.
Annie hailed from Milwaukee, Wisconsin; her family firm owned most of the steel mills in the Midwest. The husky did what she could to avoid relying on her family name--doubtless why she'd taken a job with the Geological Survey, and why her research proposals involved calculators instead of metallurgy.
The difference engine at Columbia impressed him even more than the bustle of Broadway, and it wasn't much quieter. Rows upon rows of polished brass gears and rods--there had to be thousands of them--and when they turned it was with a clatter that belied the precision in their working.
"This is only the interface," their guide explained. "There are eight more processors underneath us."
"Underneath us?"
"Yes, Miss Janssen!" The feline, one Dr. Frias, wasn't doing a very good job of containing his excitement. He picked his way around the difference engine, pointing at a fabric-shielded cable. "The connection is electrical."
"An electromechanical engine?" Annie asked.
"Not quite." All three of them turned at the new voice, coming from a heavily accented dog in a formal suit and a bowler hat who was inspecting a panel on the wall of the difference engine room. "Dr. Frias has only used electrical signaling to transform the results of the calculations in the auxiliary processors. Next year, they may install a fully electrical calculator... if they pay me."
"And if it works," Dr. Frias added. "Some in your laboratory are given to overpromising, doctor."
"And some in yours are given to underdelivering. We could do better than simple electromechanics. The laboratory has been experimenting in removing the moving parts altogether."
"And how much success have you had with that?" Frias demanded. "I must offer apologies for the impertinence of our... Austrian friend, Miss Janssen."
"It's fine," the husky replied. "Consider my curiosity sincere."
The Austrian tapped at his panel, rapping the glass of a dial with one of his claws. "It's at the experimental stage," he said, with deliberate vagueness. "But it shows potential. The nature of science is a mix of failure and learning."
"More of one than the other, as you might imagine," Frias muttered. He left the other scientist to his work, leading Annie and Keetso away from the chattering engine and to quieter corners in the office of the Computational Research Department. "Again, I apologize. He can be... trying. We're but one of his passions--tomorrow he'll be back at his flying machines or his electrical signaling contraptions and leave us alone."
"An interesting man."
"A madman, Miss Janssen," the cat corrected. "But helpful in furthering our research. What do you think of the engine here, though? I should hope you find it up to your standards."
"Oh, yes. It is far more impressive than the one I was using for the Geological Survey."
Frias nodded, opening a folder on his desk and leafing through the contents. "That was, I believe, a model '81, I believe, and without any of the optional accelerators. Even still, the portfolio of your work is top-notch, Miss Janssen. I've been reading your occasional dispatches to the Journal of Computers and Mathematicians--we all have. If you'd be interested in continuing your research here, the university would be delighted to have you."
The senior computer at Harvard University had said the same thing when they visited Cambridge. Annie told Frias she'd let him know within the week. Her curled tail wagged quickly when they stepped back onto the street, heading for the hotel they shared as a base of operations for their whirlwind tour through the city.
"How will you choose?"
She hooked her arm through his, leaning against the coyote. "I don't know. I have to think about it! Harvard is the more prestigious school, and Professor Fitch was more interested in my research. At the same time, did you hear what the man said? A completely electrical calculator--I've only heard rumors before. I could be one of the first operators!"
"I thought you didn't like electricity." He stuck his tongue out, watching her eyes dance when he teased her. When they'd met he was an electrician on a steamship, and she was complaining about the fickle nature of the medium. "What changed your mind?"
"A good teacher?"
She was ever-inquisitive, too. The husky started keeping notes on the strength of the auroral activity, the magnetic fields, and the weather in general on their travels through Alaska. By the time they left she had filled three notebooks, and she wanted to analyze the numbers to see if there were patterns to be found.
The difference engine in Sitka, being for official government use, hadn't been willing to help anything that wasn't related to Geological Survey business. Conducting her research, therefore, meant coming to a university. And Keetso was ready to trade a tent in the Yukon Territory for permanent housing.
In the end it proved possible to narrow the list of universities down to Harvard and Columbia. The choice was up to her--Keetso's license was good at any guild office, and the coyote felt he'd be able to find work in Boston just as easily as New York City. Or Baltimore, or Atlanta, or Chattanooga...
Presuming any of them turned out to be an acceptable home. Annie clearly gravitated towards New York, with its bustle and the ever-present hum of activity. She took every opportunity to immerse them in it, pulling him away from the solitude of their hotel room. So it was that, in the evening, Keetso discovered that the docks remained alive well past sunset; a constitutional found them wandering through well-trod streets.
It was a city balanced unsteadily on the cusp of the future, ready to tumble at a moment's notice headlong into the promise of scientific advancement. Horse-drawn carriages jostled for space with motorized trams, wreathed by the steam curling from beneath the street.
As the steam drifted upwards, it drew Keetso's attention to an electric sky. His husky's interests were elsewhere: Annie's ears perked, and she pointed down an alleyway towards the waterfront. "Oh, will you look at that!"
The best word to describe the airship was 'imposing.' She had to be as large as any of the steamships calling at New York, and her very buoyancy was a sort of provocation. Floating twenty feet above the Hudson River, the ship defied anyone to argue with its very physical presence.
Despite the lateness of the hour, they weren't the only ones gawking. There was even a man with an easel, capturing the reflection of the ship and the lights twinkling like stars in the broken waves. Next to them, a tall dog in a long greatcoat watched the activity on the docks stoically, very nearly at attention.
"It's a German design, I think," Keetso said; American airships used lifting airscrews rather than buoyant gas. It made them expensive and fickle: the Coast Guard ship Gyrfalcon, permanently assigned to Skagway, had two redundant lifting screws to cope with the harsh Alaskan conditions.
The German Empire pioneered the use of lifting gas, producing a ship that was less maneuverable but far more practical--the Gyrfalcon couldn't stay aloft for more than a day at a time, and clearly the ship they were looking at had crossed the Atlantic at some point. "I don't think it's German, though. Look at the flag. British?"
Before Keetso could reply, the dog watching looked over and grinned. "Careful who hears you say that, madam. It is a Canadian ship."
"Canadian? You're certain?"
The dog grinned wider. "I believe I am. After all, who could be more certain than the captain?"
He looked like a German Shepherd, sure enough, and his accent was decidedly European--well-suited to be an expert in airships of that sort. Keetso tilted his head. "I don't take you for Canadian, though."
"Correct. I am, I believe you'd say in English, borrowed. The ship is, as well: SeTStaL Hanseatic."
"SeTStaL?"
"Self-buoyant lifting-gas-using rigid airship. But, as it's from the Zeppelinwerk, I say it is called 'Zeppelin'--and I am called Ralf Sanger. The both of us are here for a special purpose, you see? What about you--what brings you to gaze on such a thing?"
"Interest, I suppose? My name's Keetso Edison."
"And I'm Annie Janssen," the husky added.
Captain Sanger cocked an eyebrow and, without moving his regal, wolfish head, looked between them curiously. "Is that so? The two Alaskans?"
"One and the same." Annie was more accustomed to fame than he was, but it wasn't the first time they'd been recognized--their rescue of the steamship Hertiginna made news even outside the Alaska Territory.
"I must say, that's a rather pleasant surprise--and a great honor. Would you like to see the inside?"
They both nodded. Sanger clapped his paws excitedly and pointed to the dock's gate, guarded by two uniformed sailors who snapped salutes to the shepherd and let the trio pass without question.
"I was during that winter in Yellowknife, and my brother was aboard the Hertiginna," he explained. "You have no idea what you two did, I swear it. Not just saving the ship, or my brother--between us, a bit of a rascal." Ralf gave them a sideways, playful smile. "Flying in a storm like that... and successfully! You've given the crazier souls of the world some interesting ideas."
Keetso, used to being a rascal and a crazy soul himself, paid careful attention to everything as Ralf led them up the gangplank. Close up, the ornate Teutonic lettering on the ship's nose was still visible under a coat of fresh paint: LZ11 DIE HANSE. Not even that amount of effort had been made for the interior--nor for the crew, also universally German. The captain guided them further in, to a walkway that ran along the Hanseatic's keel.
It was hard to get a sense of scale in the voluminous interior. "Nineteen gas-cells provide for me twenty-two thousand kilograms of lift," Sanger said, offhandedly, pointing above them. Annie gasped. The cells were huge; at first glance the ropes holding them in place looked frail as spider-silk, but up close they were thick around as the husky's wrist. "Indeed!"
"Did you come all the way across the ocean?"
"Indeed," he repeated. "We certainly did, ma'am. As an experiment to determine the vessel's range."
Something about the very austerity of the bridge impressed Keetso. It was remarkable to think that something as huge as the Hanseatic could be controlled with only a steering wheel and two levers for the tailfins and throttle. Behind the captain's seat was a station for the navigator, with a map of North America open above it. That was all.
"The chief engineer would not like to hear me say that it is simple," Captain Sanger joked, seeing the coyote's expression. "But from up here, it is so. Not much more fancy than a spinwing-ship like you would fly. How's it called?"
"In English? 'Karalidapter'--or just 'k-wing.' We keep things simple."
"Ah, I see. We do not--ein Zweischrauben Drehenderflügel motorisiertes-Luftfahrzeug. I think yours might be easier to remember. I haven't used one. They never caught on in my homeland. Heavier-than-air flight eludes us... but this works well, I find."
"It looks impressive," the coyote said, genuinely.
"I'm honored you would say that! What about you, Miss Janssen--you are a cartographer, are you not? May I offer a poor explanation?"
"Of what, sir?"
Sanger flipped a latch just below the map, dropping a small tray into position. A smaller map, showing the northeastern United States, had been secured to the tray, and a pantograph-supported stylus pointed straight at New York. "Using this dial is set the airspeed--automatically calculated from the wind direction also--and from this, the compass heading. Turning this lever advances the time by some minutes, and the course can be plotted thusly."
"Accurately?"
"From Friedrichshafen to New York was lost only thirty kilometers. It will be improved. It must be." The German Shepherd locked the table back into the bridge wall. "As I said, we are here for a special purpose. I didn't ask you here for no reason, my friends. We are interested in special people, too--like you."
"As a coyote, you know, 'special' isn't always a compliment."
Sanger laughed, his tail wagging genially. "It is this time. The Hanseatic is going north. We'll be the first to reach the Pole. A pilot with experience in arctic conditions would be invaluable... to say nothing of a woman with your talents in surveying, Miss Janssen."
"You're not going to the pole on your own initiative, though, right?"
"No, no. The Canadian government sponsored the expedition. You're skeptical? I was, also. Some of the reasons are practical: knowledge of the north and its resources is invaluable. Some reasons are... less idealistic. Prestige, and a desire to demonstrate their independence from the Empire."
"The British Empire?"
"Who else, Mr. Edison? Provincial battalions bore the worst costs of pacifying the frontiers. Ottawa sees itself being drawn into London's conflicts in the European theater. They have their own destiny, just like the United States does. Can you blame them for wanting to make their mark before the new century dawns?"
Keetso did what he could to ignore politics. He was not inclined to think of himself as particularly American, especially given his ancestors' fraught history with the federal government. He didn't hold the same grudge as his parents--but the wounds were still there.
"I left for similar reasons," Captain Sanger continued. "Europe is a... pardon my language, but it's a bloody mess. Obviously, there can't be open conflict, not with everyone related to one another. But that familial squabbling is bad enough. The proxy wars in southern Africa and central Asia are just the start. I don't want a part of it. I love Württemberg, and perhaps I even love Germany--but I don't believe in empires."
Annie sounded sympathetic. "My father used to say that flags were just something kings used to clean up the blood of their subjects. What do you believe in?"
"Discovery," he told the husky. "Adventure. Berlin is too busy fortifying itself to see the wonders just beyond the borders of our knowledge. Fortunately, we were permitted to undertake this journey. I didn't expect to meet you, but I'd be very happy to offer a place aboard. If you want?"
"Do we?"
Annie had let Keetso answer, but the coyote demurred. "It's a compelling offer. We'd have to talk about it, though."
Sanger didn't press them--perhaps he saw the seed had already been planted. He took the pair to the gangway and wished them well. Walking to their hotel, the coyote swung his ears back and considered what it might be like. A polar expedition would be a proper adventure--and a meaningful one, not just the excitement of extracting a living from the Alaskan wilderness.
It had merits.
His partner saw right through Keetso's contemplative expression. In bed that night, she spoke up without bothering to introduce the topic. "You'd go with him."
"I... would not?" he couldn't put the strength in the answer that it really deserved.
"You're thinking about it!" Annie insisted. A teasing light glinted in the snowdog's eyes. "I told you that you wouldn't be able to stay put. You love getting into trouble too much."
Guilty as charged, Keetso could only shrug. "Doesn't it sound exciting, though?"
"Sure, it sounds exciting!" She shook her head with a mocking ruefulness, curling up against his side and seeking out his paw. "How many times did you tell me you were done with the snow, dear?"
"A lot."
"How many times did you complain about your ears freezing?"
"A lot," he said, toying gently with the husky's soft-furred fingers. Not everyone had the luxury of a winter coat. "Did you ever think I was just looking for an excuse to get warm?"
Annie looked up at him, and when he turned his head towards her she leaned up to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. "Of course. Why do you think I went along with it?"
"Maybe because you knew that as much as I love getting into trouble..." He trailed off, lost in her eyes. That part was inevitable: after all, between them, she was the navigator.
"Are you going to say that you love me more, coyote? Do I have to say it first?"
"It doesn't feel like 'trouble' when it's with you--how's that?" He returned the kiss to her playfully. "You use that husky magic of yours to make it seem like something else. Something better."
"Or you use coyote magic to keep it that way," she retorted immediately. "So I'll fall for you on the next caper. Otherwise why do I keep doing it? Upstanding, proper woman that I am..."
"Maybe you're not as upstanding as you claim." Keetso grinned. "Anyway, fine: I do love you more than trouble."
She laughed, but beneath the laughter he heard her tail thumping against the bed. She accepted his answer, and for his part the coyote gave it in good faith. They could settle down--at least, for a little while. Keetso didn't think they'd be happy in one place forever, but it was a change of pace from a rickety shack on a mining claim in the middle of nowhere. A comfortable bed... that was a nice touch, too.
And even if waking up next to the husky made any bed pleasant--perhaps that was magical, too--he appreciated the virtue of an actual pillow. In general the coyote had wound up accustomed to sleeping in whatever spots nobody chased him away from. A hotel with central heating and clean linens was definitely worth staying put.
But, with its excitement and its energy, New York City had a way of upsetting the plans of desert- and snowdog alike. At breakfast the next morning, the hotel concierge told them their table had already been taken. They'd checked in under Annie's name, for once: her family's esteem opened more doors than a coyote did.
The prospect of another Janssen in the hotel raised the husky's hackles, but she asked the concierge to point out who the table had been given to. It didn't strain Keetso's sense of intuition to guess that she knew the man. The other husky, who also shared Annie's coat, recognized her too--his eyes flashed when the pair walked up. "Anyone who said that you were a troublemaker was right all along, Anastasia. I can't believe you're showing your pelt here."
"It's nice to see you, as well. Keetso, this is Clifford; Clifford, Keetso Edison."
"Oh, I know. We all saw in the papers. That was a fun conversation to have around the table at Christmas... the Josephs were particularly thrilled by your exploits, as I'm sure you can imagine. My sister, the grand adventurer!"
"Would father have preferred me to go down with the ship?"
Clifford scowled heavily. "We were happy you survived, Anastasia--don't be quarrelsome. But then you didn't come back. And you ran off with this... man."
"I sent letters. I told you where I was."
The husky narrowed his eyes to the piercing glare of shattered glass. "Gallivanting in the Yukon? Father wanted to have you declared kidnapped to avoid the shame. It was all I could do to calm him down, and mother, well... did you hear what happened at the Josephs' Thanksgiving gala? No, you didn't."
"Then you might imagine that I don't care, either."
"Why would you?" he shot back. "Ellen Patricia Joseph said she heard you were in Alaska with the gold miners and that mother shouldn't fret, because she was sure you'd been raised to charge enough. Our mother spent the next week recovering. I hope you're happy."
"Happy that I don't have to deal with that kind of thing anymore, yes. Is father here?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I just want to know which high society clubs I should avoid visiting to preserve the family reputation."
"Don't take that attitude," her brother snapped. "Yes. He's here. So's Arch, though they're not making eye contact. Mr. Joseph arranged a meeting with a group of British industrialists. They're looking into adopting the alloy we've been working on--do you remember that, or do you only care about what you can dig out of a riverbed?"
"I remember the work, Clifford. Stop patronizing me."
"Stop deserving it. Father says he's finally ready to start selling, and Arch found some engineers who think the metal would be perfect for constructing bridges."
"Arch is making bridges now? Did he get bored?"
"It seems to me that his boredom is no longer really your concern--is it?"
Taking into account Annie's growl, the coyote felt it would be best to end the encounter before it came to blows. He cleared his throat. "Remember, you have that meeting with the dean. You should get ready."
There was no such meeting; the husky's ears twitched and she glared at her brother for a few seconds more. "I suppose I should," she finally said. "It was so nice seeing you again, Clifford."
Her brother said nothing. They retired back to the hotel room, where she paced back and forth until calm enough to join him sitting on the bed.
'Calm enough' was, aptly, a relative term. "Please tell me you found my brother utterly charming. I'd hate to think the Milwaukee Janssens give the wrong impression."
Keetso rubbed her shoulder soothingly. "Very charming, yes."
Her lip curled; when at last she suppressed the growl, she leaned heavily into the coyote's side. "I don't know what I was expecting, but I'm sorry for dragging you into it, love."
"All in the past, snowdog. Would I be right if I guessed that 'Arch' is Archibald Joseph?"
"You'd be right."
"And you want nothing to do with him."
"Nothing. We weren't even really formally engaged. I think he thought we were? My father thought we were. At this point he must've gotten the message... though I wouldn't really put it past him to ignore trivialities like that. I thought I was through with this--why did they have to come have their meeting here, anyway? Damn it!"
"Let's get out of the city for a few days, then. That way you can avoid them. We could go back to Boston, couldn't we? What do you say?"
"I'd like that." She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "Let's go to the harbor tomorrow morning and see if there are any ships leaving."
Until then, and--not knowing where the meeting was taking place--she decided it would be best if they stayed in the hotel room. This made sense. It also meant that, ironically, they were easy for Clifford to find. The knock at the door later that morning revealed a husky who did not look happy to be making the call.
Annie wasn't happy to receive him. "What do you want?"
"To talk."
"I don't see there's anything to talk about."
"Right. You don't have to make your position any more clear, Anastasia. You want nothing to do with any of us, even if we are your family. But I thought you might like to know that Arch has... betrayed our father."
"Betrayed?"
"The whole meeting was a setup for him to take a sample of the alloy and father's notes. I learned that the so-called 'businessmen' weren't interested in bridge-building at all--they represent a royal artillery factory. Father challenged them on it, and they admitted the scheme. Then they held him at gunpoint, took everything, and escaped."
Annie gasped, flattening her ears. "Is he safe?"
"Physically, yes. He's unharmed. And he's too strong to let his nerves show, though I'm sure they're grievously wounded. I can't imagine how violated he feels, considering the inevitable outcome. Might as well be selling TNT."
"Our father comes from a pacifist tradition," Annie explained for Keetso's benefit. "He forbade our researchers from doing anything with the War Department directly. You're telling me that Arch went along with this, Cliff?"
"He stands to profit heavily, and that seems to be all that matters. Father begged Archibald Joseph to reconsider what he was doing, but Arch merely told him that: 'steel is steel and gold is gold.' He left with them."
"Where are they now?"
"There's a train that leaves tomorrow for Buffalo with a private car attached. I went to the police, but they said something about 'diplomatic protection'... and the federal authorities won't be able to intervene before they reach neutral territory."
"Neutral territory?"
Cliff glared at Keetso until Annie asked the question herself. "Canada, in this case. The trail goes cold at Buffalo. I don't know why you're even feigning concern, Anastasia. For that matter... well, for that matter, I can't help wondering if he might have been more stable if he'd had a wife to keep him from--"
"Oh, be quiet. Dear." Deliberately--conspicuously, even--she leaned over and kissed the side of Keetso's muzzle. "My brother and I are going to have a polite conversation downstairs. I'll be back in an hour."
She wasn't, though the deadline was almost certainly meant for Clifford's benefit more than Keetso's. The husky could handle herself, and he didn't want to interject himself in family drama where the presence of an interloper could only make the situation worse.
So he waited in the hotel room, some avatar of a good dog.
He gave her two hours to come back, then two and a half. At three he put on his jacket and went looking. It didn't take long: she was sitting by herself in the hotel's restaurant, with an uneaten croissant languishing next to a steaming mug of coffee.
"Annie?"
"Hello, dear. I was on my way back. Sort of. I got distracted."
"By the coffee?" He took a seat facing her.
"Yes. This was the third cup. Clifford and I had... words."
"Not good ones, I imagine."
"No. He blames me for a lot of what's happened. Don't--you don't have to reassure me, dear, I didn't take his rambling to heart. In the end he tired himself out and went to find a drink."
"Then at least you're done with it, right? Your father will have to forgive you, knowing what everyone knows now about Arch. You can put it in the past."
Annie nodded. She looked down at her coffee, retrieved the spoon, and stirred at it thoughtfully. "I didn't know Archibald Joseph was such a man, at the time. He comes from a good family."
"But he is such a man. It's clear now. Ancestry is... well, nobody chooses their parents. We only choose what we make of ourselves."
"It isn't that I don't like my family." She had given a somewhat oblique response to his statement, and fidgeted with the spoon a while longer. "I love them, even Cliff. I know that father wanted what was best for me. He probably feels bad about trying to arrange the marriage, too."
"But he still tried."
"He did, yes. But not from a place of malice. I have to admit, Keetso, it was... it was nice being able to escape my name when I wanted to. Nobody had to know who I was. I didn't have to care about the person my father wanted me to be, but... but I also didn't have to care about why he wanted me to be that person. Do you understand?"
"I think so. All the same, Annie... if you ask me, you've earned your own name. Dr. Frias thought so, didn't he? He didn't ask anything about Leon Janssen."
She kept stirring. "You're right. I could go tell him now that I want to do my research here at Columbia. Or..."
"Or? Harvard?"
"We could rob the train."
"What?"
Annie set the spoon down and pulled a book from out of her handbag. One of the pages had been marked; she opened the book to a topographical map. "West of Schenectady, where the train curves along the Mohawk River. They'll slow down. If you had a k-wing--"
"Hold on. Go back a step. You want to rob the train?"
"He's under guard and untouchable here, Keetso. If we landed a k-wing on the train, we would have the element of surprise... we could get on and off before anyone can react."
"Why get involved to begin with?"
Holding the book open with her paw, she raised her head to look him straight in the eye. "My father has been working on that metal for as long as I can remember. He used to call it 'Anastasium'... I'm sure he probably doesn't do that anymore, but I still think of it that way. Even if I've earned a different name, Keetso, I don't want to hear mine used for cannon barrels."
The coyote frowned and stared at the map--not that it told him much. It didn't tell him anything more than the husky's expression. She proposed landing a karalidapter on a moving target, then holding it there for as long as it took to retrieve the metal. That was at its most simple.
What if Arch didn't want to give it up without a fight? What if the k-wing was spotted and someone raised the alarm? Where would they even get a k-wing with the range to beat a train to Schenectady on short notice?
"You just told me yesterday that I loved getting into trouble," Keetso said.
"You'll help me, then," she declared, and flipped the book shut. "Let's get started."
At least her next suggestion was a logical one: she wanted to investigate the train itself, and reasoned that it would be waiting at the station for its departure the following morning. Keetso went along with her, mostly because the command "you'll help me" meant the coyote knew he was going to end up as a proxy in whatever scheme the husky wound up crafting.
The train was conspicuous in a yard full of largely identical passenger carriages: only one consist had a car with LAKE LINE VICE-PRESIDENT emblazoned on the side. Just behind it was a car marked 'Royal Army,' and behind that an odd-looking caboose with slab sides and no windows.
Annie, with her surveyor's training, took careful notes on Joseph's private car. She pointed out a hatch on the roof, and asked if he thought it would be easier to land on the passenger wagon just in front of it. Keetso didn't think any of it would be easy. With a little luck, it might be possible.
Their presence hadn't gone unnoticed. Before he could muse further on how much luck coyotes could reasonably count on, both of them heard the sound of approaching footfalls. They turned at the same time. It was the 'impertinent Austrian' from the Columbia University difference engine. "We meet again," he said. Keetso had a chance to look at him more closely: a Border Collie, with wilder eyes than most, gleaming from beneath his bowler.
"We do. Did you follow us?"
"No, no. Not as such."
"Then what brings you here?"
He furrowed his brow, as if the answer had been painfully obvious. "The same thing that brought you."
"I doubt it," Annie muttered.
"No? You had something to do with the meeting of the industrialists earlier today. I observed you talking with Clifford Janssen just before he left to meet with his father. It did not seem to be a pleasant conversation."
"You spied on us!"
But the dog merely rolled his eyes. "Not on you. On Clifford, and on the elder Janssen, and--more importantly--the men they were meeting with. In my line of work, you learn to be inquisitive when discussions like that take place."
"Not, I take it, simply for the purpose of idle gossip."
"No. Knowledge about what these interlopers desire... about what twisted ends they intend to put the gifts that science has given them. Some I recognize from previous encounters, such as General Hollingsworth--the feared Lord Pelham of Afghanistan. If I didn't know about the meeting, I wouldn't have known to post guards at my laboratory. He's been after my work; I put nothing past him."
"Your work?" Keetso prompted. Dr. Frias had mentioned flying machines, and electrical communications, and the difference engine--none of them in a tone that allowed for much faith.
The Border Collie twitched, as if he'd already forgotten the statement. "Oh. Yes. Lord Pelham thought I could bring the Khyber under his control... he had heard of my work in seismic vibration--I think he probably wished to collapse the whole of Afghanistan! I refused to speak with him, of course."
"Of course," Annie said, carefully--her voice thick with skepticism. "What about Archibald Joseph? Do you know him?"
"The American industrialist? You can't trust him, either--there seemed to be some kind of altercation with Mr. Leon Janssen. They left in a hurry, certainly. I hear he stands to inherit a railroad, and that would be one thing. But I know he means to diversify into armaments--which is why I'm here. I want to know what the argument was about, and what the consequences are."
"It wasn't an argument. He stole something from my father. It's the formula for an alloy that would apparently be useful in building powerful artillery pieces."
"Hardly surprising." The collie didn't hide his disgust. "There's nothing worse than weak men, drunk on their own dreams of easy power. Power they don't know how to wield, don't understand, and certainly don't deserve."
"I agree. My father would agree. And that is why we are here, sir. Not just reconnaissance."
"No?"
"No. We're going to get it back."
She'd gambled that it was the right thing to say, and when the Border Collie looked to Keetso for confirmation he nodded, committing to honesty. "How?"
"Keetso--we never did introductions, did we? I'm Leon's daughter, Annie. This is Keetso Edison."
The dog bristled. "Edison?"
"Not related," Keetso clarified. "It's an adopted name."
"Then you should adopt a different one," the collie snorted. "Anyway. I'm Nick."
"Nice to meet you... I think. Keetso is a karalidapter pilot, among other talents. We think we can land on the train, surprise Mr. Joseph, and get away before the guards can be summoned."
"Bold. Extremely so... and needlessly risky."
"Risky, yes--but needlessly? Do you have a better idea?"
"Let me help. I know the train signaling system. Well... I made it, that is to say, how's that for knowledge? It's electrical, of course. Highly advanced, or I'd explain it to you."
"Keetso is an electrician, and I'm a computer by training."
"Keetso has adopted a fraud's moniker, and you still think 'computer' is an occupation rather than a machine the masses will use to transform our very existence," the collie sniffed. His whiskers twitched, and he seemed to realize that he'd overstepped his bounds. "No, apologies to you both, I'm merely frustrated by the circumstances. I'll be happy to explain the signaling method later. Suffice it to say, I can send a message that will categorically convince the engineer that the next bridge is out. He'll have to stop."
"And then?"
"You recover your lost possessions and leave like civilized, decent people. No messing about with guards." Nick cocked his head sharply. "No... no, it's more complex. Foreign powers are involved, aren't they? What if they intervene? Hm. Wait! I know!"
Between the three they hammered out a slight modification to the plan. While the train was stopped, Nick would summon a local police detachment--one not bribed or buffaloed into neutrality--to arrest the miscreants. And, because Annie didn't want to risk sensitive materials falling into the wrong hands, Nick arranged to have a karalidapter waiting and charged for their escape. He would accompany the police, he said, so that they were "forewarned."
He didn't say what they might need forewarning about, but nor did he seem troubled and it was easy to see why. No need for a reckless landing, no dramatic escape, and no fuss: impertinent and idiosyncratic the Border Collie might've been, but his idea had an elegant simplicity. "Are you disappointed that it's not more adventurous?" Annie asked.
"Are you?"
"No. I'll be happy when it's done, that's all."
Honestly, he was grateful for it. Keetso purchased tickets under his own name, to avoid tipping their hand, and managed to acquire a stateroom in the passenger cabin in front of Joseph's private car. They boarded early, and discreetly--just in case Arch was on the lookout for trouble.
If he was, they saw no sign of it. The train, which was nearly empty, pulled out exactly on schedule, and when the conductor punched their tickets the pair finally relaxed. They were on their way. Keetso closed the door to the berth and pulled the curtain shut across it.
The room was equipped with facing benches, lined with cushions to give some imitation of a living room sofa. Each was roomy enough for two people, but they'd never been much for spreading out and, when Annie took a seat near the wall, Keetso snuggled up next to her.
"Oh, coyote..."
"You're doing well? Confident?"
"Yes. Ready to take care of this."
"It'll be simple, you think?"
"Simple and painless. Archibald Joseph is a pushover. Why else would he need armed bullies to take some notes and a sample from my father? But thank you for..." She stopped herself. "I don't know. Coming with me? Not abandoning me?"
"I couldn't very well do that, could I?"
She leaned against his chest. "I know that it... it wouldn't be unreasonable to wonder about the choices I made. Like staying with you instead of going back to my family and marrying Arch. I don't, though... I never have."
"You don't even wonder?"
Annie untangled her fingers from his and slid her paw into the pocket of her jacket. She came back with a band of metal, inlaid on the top with garnet and topaz in emulation of her eyes. "No," she said, holding the ring up so he could inspect it. "When I left Milwaukee, I stopped wearing it. I forgot it was even in this coat until we got it from storage in Seattle."
He nodded. At last she dropped it back out of sight, and sought his paw again. The sunlight of early summer flickered on the river passing by their window, promising a warm day, full of potential. The light had no opinion on what came before. It illuminated only the present.
"You make me forget there was a time before I knew you."
"Same." He let his muzzle rest between her ears, and the husky snuggled closer to him. The way she had hundreds of times in Alaska, in those fierce storms when winter forbid escape from their tent. Or when the weather abated, and they sat by a crackling fire and watched the aurora spill from an infinite heaven across the drifting snows of an alien landscape.
Whatever it was that conspired to compress the universe into something small enough to fit in an embrace, whatever spell bound the pair, he fell for it every time just as strongly as the first. Every steady rise and fall of the husky's chest when she relaxed with him, every thump and wag of her tail. Every time he looked into her eyes and knew that he would stay with her in New York City just as surely as he'd join her in coming to the rescue of her family name.
They stayed animated by the train's steady rocking. In other circumstances either of the dogs might've found the rhythm soothing, but they were too worked up for that. Presently Keetso felt the husky's fingers, wandering up his side.
"How long do we have before the stop? An hour?"
"Hour and a half. It might be a little more, but we've been making good time. Curious about the schedule?"
Keetso nodded, and kissed the husky's nose. "I want to stay punctual."
At that Annie smirked, wiggling closer in his arms until the need for stability--that was all, certainly--compelled the snowdog to pull herself into his lap. "You don't think something might come up, do you?" Her nose now brushed his, leaving him no choice but to surrender himself to her eyes.
The best he could've done was to pick a color to focus on. Blue and brown, though, shared their mischievous, mirthful glint equally. "Of course not." The coyote had already acquired a telling growl, and from the way Annie's eyes danced she was keenly aware of it. "We're in public... it would be unseemly."
"Public?"
He stalled the question with a brief kiss. "On a train."
"Never stopped you before."
"No. And we do have a private room."
"And it has a lock. I checked." With each exchange their voices were softening, and he heard the shakiness in her breathy whisper.
"You did?"
"I figured we might have some tension to work out, love," she said, her lips briefly touching his. "And I can think of better ways to do that then fidgeting... less ladylike ways..."
"Losing these clothes?"
"Maybe." Her second kiss lasted slightly longer, and her eyes gleamed. "Maybe it starts like that. With my ex not twenty feet away..."
His paws worked down her sides until he reached her hips. "No idea what's about to happen. What you're about to do to him..."
Annie bit her lip, though it didn't hide her wicked grin. "True. He wouldn't expect it from me. Prim and formal Anastasia Joseph née Janssen--the very picture of propriety."
He squeezed firmly, and waited for her shudder to subside. "See, I never learned to be high-class. So tell me: would it be proper if I had you right here?"
"God, no! That's very vulgar, Keetso. For a lady from a good family like myself? And with some commoner, no less!"
"Then it would be absolutely scandalous if I forgot, surely? If some common coyote forgot about everything but taking his bitch... if I bred that 'prim and formal' out of you up against the window of this--"
She got the idea. Annie's arms locked tight behind his back, and their muzzles came together firmly. He didn't consciously remember locking the door to the stateroom any more than he remembered the taste of her tongue against his own. Any more than he would remember the way she responded to his tugging at her dress not by protest but with a heated growl and beating him to the punch--stripping herself from her clothes and demanding he do the same.
"Over," he growled throatily. "Get down on all fours."
And she did. Keetso licked his muzzle. His eyes kept coming back to the supple, fur-downed curve of her rear, and the fluffy tailed curled over it. Wagging, twitching invitingly as if to draw his attention lower. She kept her head up as he settled behind her, watching the landscape drifting past, until his cock brushed less than subtly against her lips and she glanced over her shoulder. "Nice view, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
She grinned and turned back to the window--putting out a paw to brace herself for what was coming. The coyote pushed forward, a single stroke that sank him into her all the way. Her warm, wet folds enveloped him and the soft fur of her rear meshed with the desert dog's coarser pelt and he growled out in the pleasure of that first thrust.
Of course neither of them expected patience. He swiveled his hips deliberately, giving him half a dozen strokes to get up to speed. On the last of those the husky's fingers were already curling, claws dragging against the window glass. Her ears pinned, wanton moans quieted by her paw serving for commentary as he took her.
He bucked swiftly, using the train's swaying to add leverage to his thrusts. Annie's urgent gasps built into broken, yelping barks as he took her. Her ragged breath fogged the window, but it didn't matter: neither of them were looking at the scenery. His eyes were unfocused, slitted in the tense exertion of their frenzied coupling; hers were shut completely.
Keetso's paws gripped at her hips, doing his best to hold her in place while he rutted into her and she trembled at the feeling of canine cock slamming properly, purposefully deep inside. But his best efforts at keeping the tempo were being undone by his swelling knot. They both felt it: he sank his claws in, pulling her against him, and she moaned gratefully.
That impending, inevitable tie turned the coyote's long, smooth strokes uneven anyway. Annie sensed the unsteadiness, the coming end to the act. She kept one paw on the window; the other dipped between her legs and Keetso felt the soft fur of her fingers for a moment before she found her mark. The added girth slowed him down--he had to work to push against the resistance before a pointed lurch slid him in the rest of the way.
Then even that wasn't enough. His knot pushed against her lips, straining for entry. Knocking against her, a demanding pressure pushing against the husky's clit while her fingers rubbed faster and his powerful, desperate bucks strove to tie them before the coyote's peak took him. He gritted his teeth, panting hard.
The train rocked sharply, and he used its leverage for one last thrust--the momentum carried him forward, onto her back, as he plunged into her. Annie yelped in shock, losing her hold on the window. She caught herself at the last moment, getting her paw under her to keep from being pinned to the wall of the train.
For his part the other canid never recovered. Even as the carriage righted itself he was thrusting wildly into her, the sweet slick friction as his tip nudged deep within her pulling him over the edge. His arms circled her belly tightly, tugging her close with the last thrust before he locked up--before his teeth closed on her scruff and her yelp flashed over into an exulting howl.
Thick fur muffled his triumphant snarl but the bite had communicated plenty and the splashes of his cum spilling into her added giddy, warm emphasis. The husky thrashed and quivered under him, squeezing down on his firmly lodged cock, shuddering to each deliberate shove of his hips as the coyote pumped his seed into her.
Annie recovered her proper bearing long enough to do her best at modesty, tucking her muzzle into her arm to stay quiet though it was long since futile. Keetso, not having the benefit of a stately upbringing, was beyond caring. No sooner had he released his hold on her neck than another surge of pleasure hit and he growled her name openly. Gruff, sated grunts filled the cabin, letting anyone know the dog was claiming his mate.
Had he been able to think logically Keetso would have pointed out that anyone with any senses knew what was going on. The air was thick with their steadily mixing scents, their clothes were a mess, and the condensation on the window was broken only by the trail Annie's fingers had left. And had she been able to think logically, the husky would have agreed.
As it happened neither of them were in control of their faculties, and by the time they were Keetso had better things to say. "I love you." The rough grip of his arms about her slackened into a more appropriate, proper embrace.
She leaned back in his arms, shifting around to get comfortable in his lap. "I love you, too, coyote."
"How long do we have now?"
Annie stretched until her claws managed to snag a hold on her jacket; she pulled it close and took out her chronometer. "Thirty minutes. We made good use of the time, I think."
They were also familiar enough with the practicalities of knotting that they knew how long they had until Keetso could withdraw without causing either of them too much stress. It left them with fifteen minutes or so; Annie got herself dressed again, and by the time the train started slowing to a halt Keetso was presentable enough, for a coyote.
The plan was to keep things as simple as possible: Annie would get her ex-fiancé's attention and, if necessary, Keetso agreed to provide some distraction to allow her to recover her father's work. Neither of them were armed, a fact which--as they stepped out and into the warm late-summer morning--bothered him not a whit.
A passing stagecoach driver, who had obviously been waiting for the train to pass, called up to them. "Is something wrong?"
"Bridge is out," Keetso said.
"Yeah? You think?" The driver looked skeptical; he set the reins down and went to take a look.
"Let's be fast." Annie took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the carriage. It was the sort of door that opened inward, and when it started to do so she shoved it hard.
They were rewarded with a yelp from the occupant: a husky with striking black fur, neat and tidy as his overcoat. He staggered back, rubbing his muzzle unhappily. "What do you think you're do--wait--Anastasia?"
"Give me my father's notes and the alloy."
"What?"
"I'm returning my father's notes to him, and the alloy."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. What are you doing on the train?"
"Taking my father's notes from you. And the alloy. What part is unclear?"
A new voice called out from behind Arch: "Mr. Joseph, who's there? Is there a problem?"
The husky jerked, and then leapt back into the safety of his car. "They're trying to steal the package. Guards!" His shout was echoed by the hidden voice, and then a dull boom from behind the car in the direction of the caboose told Keetso and Annie that the simple, painless plan was turning out to be neither of those.
Cautiously, the two quickly closed the door and stepped onto the platform between Joseph's wagon and their own. "If there are guards, we might have to wait for Nick's policemen to show up..." Annie began.
"We can talk our way out of that. Right?"
"You two!" The train's engineer had crept forward six cars from the locomotive, staying in the shadow of the machinery. "What are you doing? That's a private car."
"I know. We have a complaint with the owner."
His head cocked, he glanced at the passenger carriage they'd come from, and Keetso saw a flicker on his muzzle that told him he recognized the coyote's voice. "This have something to do with, uh... earlier? It's about the dame?"
"Not that it's any of your business," Annie answered, "but no, it's not about the dame. He has something that doesn't belong to him."
"Oh." Keetso didn't think the raccoon looked especially convinced, and for a moment he wondered how loud they'd actually been--but the engineer recovered his professional bearing. "Well. Are you safe?"
"For now," Annie answered. "Why?"
"Come on, then. I'm getting everyone off the train." The raccoon beckoned with his left paw for them to step down from the wagon. They were on the last step when his eyes widened in a sudden panic. "Take cover!"
Urgency overwhelmed protest: Annie and Keetso both dove at the same time, into the gravel next to the railbed. The engineer held a pearl-handled pistol, but the raccoon's paws shook so badly the barrel wavered into uselessness. "What are we taking cover--"
Keetso didn't get the word from out before a terrifying clatter deafened all three of them. It only lasted for a few seconds; he looked up to see daylight streaming through a line of holes stamped in the wall of the passenger wagon.
The coyote gathered his nerves, leaned his head around the corner, and immediately wished he hadn't.
The train's caboose was gone. Something had blown away the walls--likely the machine contained within, an armored beast with four stout legs and two gun turrets along its spine. It was a terrifying chimera, a bull mated to an ironclad monitor, and the ground shook as it stomped closer.
"Fire!" someone shouted from atop the monstrosity.
Keetso ducked down and covered his head with both paws, shielding himself from the splinters that rained on them from the shattered wood of the passenger car. The engineer yelped, dropping his gun. "Fuck! Oh, fuck--what are we gonna do?"
The shooting had stopped. Annie glared at the raccoon. "Why do you think we know?"
"I don't know! I don't know! He's getting away, though--lucky bastard."
'He' was, of course, Arch Joseph, who had commandeered the stagecoach. They'd have to deal with it later, presuming they survived. "What about--" Annie shielded her ears with both paws as another barrage began. The end of it left the passenger wagon smoking ominously. "The locomotive, right? It's made of iron--can that thing shoot through iron?"
The engineer's terrified shrug explained both his lack of agreement and why he took off running for the front of the train anyway. Annie and Keetso followed; the coyote paused only long enough to scoop the revolver off the ground.
By the time they reached the engine, the passenger car was openly in flames and the next car further up took the brunt of both turrets. Thick, roiling exhaust spurted from stacks on either side of the land-monitor and it lunged into the side of the burning wagon, knocking it from the tracks.
Keetso figured returning fire would be an exercise in futility. But who knew? Perhaps he'd get lucky. He squeezed off a shot and watched it glance harmlessly from the machine's armor plate. If anything, it--and the next two shots--only angered the beast, or its living masters. Rather contemptuously, it shoved the next car away too.
They were down to the mail car just behind the locomotive's tender when Annie blinked and pointed in the direction they'd come from. Keetso could just barely see the silhouette of another train approaching--and approaching very quickly, for that matter. It had to be Nick with his reinforcements.
The monitor's cacophonous engines and deafening repeating-cannon gave the besieged one advantage, which was that nobody on the war machine noticed. "We have to keep them on the tracks," Annie barked. "Coyote!"
Firing at the monitor didn't accomplish anything, probably not even distraction. He did it anyway, just in case he might've been mistaken. Or lucky.
Annie, more pragmatic than the desert dog, realized it was hopeless. She took a sharp breath and cupped her paws about her muzzle. "Hey!" Nothing. "Hey!"
"What?"
"Stop shooting! We're coming out!"
"With your hands up," the commander shouted back, fighting to be heard over the racket of the engine.
"Sure!" Annie stood, holding her paws well above her head. At her prompting--really, more of a kick--Keetso stood as well. Carefully, one step at a time, they walked into the monitor's line of fire. Both turrets were fixed on them. "We surrender--understand?"
"Get down on your knees!"
"What did you say?"
"I said, stay there and--"
Annie looked over at Keetso, then tilted her head in the direction of the impending excitement. "Run!"
Fortunately, the monitor's crew were caught off guard by her sudden movement, and then--half a second later--by a startled recognition of what had caused it. "Oi! Hard a-port, ahead flank!"
It was too late. The war machine took the impact hard. Its hind legs crunched and folded inward, inertia slamming it forward along the face of the oncoming locomotive. The collision served as a sort of braking system for both--as did the mail car, though its assistance took the form of crumpling in half.
There had been a wagon attached to the new engine; its actual brakes had been engaged, and it drew to an expert, precise stop behind the untidy remains of the monitor and its first victims. Nick jumped down from the wagon, followed by a neat line of uniformed policemen.
"What did I tell you?" the Border Collie was saying. "Quite an impressive contrivance, isn't it?"
"Guess I appreciate the warning," replied one of the officers. "Doesn't look so impressive now."
"Inertia, my boy! Now--if you'll excuse me..."
As Nick made his way over to Keetso and Annie, the police began to engage in pleasant conversation the crew emerging from the walking dreadnought. The tone Keetso overheard was quite ordinary, as though directed not at a shattered mechanical leviathan but at some unruly drunks stumbling at dawn from a tawdry bar. "Good day! You're under arrest."
"Nonsense! We have diplomatic immunity."
"Tell it to booking. C'mon, old chap."
"Old chap? Do--do you know who I am, you impudent mongrel? General Arnold Hollingsworth the Third? Lord Pelham? First Earl of Peshawar, Baron Chichester, Knight Grand Cross of the British Empire, Knight Commander, Order of the Bath, Governor-General of Helmand-Baluch, and servant of Her Majesty the Queen Victoria."
"Sergeant Willy Duncan, Schenectady Police Department. You're under arrest."
Ramming one train into another had never exactly been part of the plan, but Nick didn't seem concerned by the discrepancy when Annie asked how he'd known to come save them.
"A simple matter of putting one's ear to the æther, as it were. My listening outpost detected the sounds of gunfire, and I therefore knew what must've happened. The police were already on alert. Did you recover the sample?"
"No. Arch escaped in a stagecoach--we have to go after him."
"There's a k-wing waiting for us, isn't there?" Keetso didn't like the way the Border Collie smiled. "Isn't there? You said you could arrange one."
"Oh, I did better than that. Come along, I'll show you."
'Come along' brought them to a barn, which should've been Keetso's first hint that the smile wasn't to have been trusted. Any lingering doubts vanished the moment Nick pulled a switch mounted to the wall and the barn door swung open wide.
"What did I say?" His quirkiness had disappeared, replaced by a showman's flair. "Marvelous, isn't it?"
"This isn't a k-wing." Indeed, either it had no wings or it was a wing; the coyote didn't know what would be more appropriate. The craft looked like two cymbals had crashed together and decided to stay that way. "What is it?"
"A work of science," the Border Collie explained. "Employing five bladeless fluid-motivating turbines... it was supposed to be three, but the larger rotors keep warping. I feel that a new, stiffer alloy might be of use, but the alternatives presented in the workshop have their own drawbacks--chiefly the induction of a magnetic field that interferes with the ætheric transfer mechanism you see here."
"I don't see anything."
Nick gave an exasperated shake of his head, stabbing with a finger up towards the disk's rim. "An integral receiver. The real genius of the machine--no combustive engine anywhere to be found. The power is entirely external. I broadcast it over the æther from a large tower some miles from here. A grand shout of current, carried over the very skies to be heard by the electrodrive in the lenticular aeroyawl."
"Aeroyawl? So it is supposed to fly?"
"More than 'supposed to,'" Nick promised. He led them to the side of the contraption, opening a hatch to the interior. "I believe it flies quite well. Theoretically, its performance is superlative--my pilot is in hospital at the moment, but you see here..."
Pilot and passengers sat in the middle of the disk, surrounded by glass windows. Keetso searched for controls and saw only a single tiller, which ended in what looked nothing so much as bicycle handlebars. Nick was gesturing for him to sit. He did--apprehensively.
"Vertical motivation, rotation, trim," the Border Collie tapped different parts of the tiller one at a time. "To start the electrodrive, flip the knife switch. If it doesn't start, flip this switch instead. Also flip that switch if the power fails in flight."
"You can remind me when we're aloft."
Nick recoiled. "Aloft? Goodness, no. I'm terrified of heights. Trust me, though, it's very simple to control. Now, where were we? Don't spin too quickly, or the transference coil might malfunction. If it malfunctions, you will crash. Once you've crashed--"
"You're coming with us," Annie said firmly.
"I'm not. This isn't an argument."
"You have to!"
He didn't. The idiosyncratic Border Collie was bound to have his way--they couldn't very well handcuff him to the inside of his vehicle--and when Nick was satisfied that he'd taught them everything they needed to know he bowed, wished them well, and retreated from the craft without further remark.
"I guess we've started out on poorer omens," the husky said.
"I guess?"
"Everything will work out. I'm sure of it."
Keetso pulled the switch, and around them the five turbines hummed to immediate, reassuring life. Outside the window, Nick beamed and gave a happy wave. "What do you suppose happened to the pilot?" Keetso asked aloud.
"Food poisoning."
"I love you." He was happy for the suggestion, of course. But he also wanted it to be the last thing he said to the husky--just in case. Nick said that 'vertical motivation' was provided by twisting the handlebars. Keetso tried it, cautiously, and the feather-light aeroyawl immediately lifted upwards.
"Under control?"
He turned the handlebars; the yawl turned. He moved the whole tiller, and the craft dipped and swayed obligingly. "Surprisingly... yes."
Whatever the mad scientist had done, the 'lenticular aeroyawl' moved like nothing Keetso had ever dreamed of. A soft nudge on the tiller, and they glided through the open barn doors like it had been on rails. Outside, the crew of the land-monitor was in handcuffs. Keetso was glad to see none of them looked badly hurt.
"Where are we going?"
Annie got her map and protractor out. "West, to start with. I don't think he's made it to Amsterdam yet. Follow the river."
The yawl swung skyward gamely at Keetso's command, like a flushed pheasant--in seconds they were two hundred feet up, and New York unfurled below them. They had to be managing a good thirty knots, and the coyote didn't get the sense they were anywhere near the machine's limits. "That's Amsterdam there?"
"It is. But again... if he gets lost in the city, we're not going to be able to follow him in the alleys. Right? Unless you're up to it."
Not with only five minutes of practice. "I'd rather not. So if you could find that stagecoach..."
"There!" The husky pointed to a glinting reflection making its way through a twisting forest track. "That has to be him."
Keetso brought the aeroyawl around and pointed its prow--if it could be said to have a prow--at the ground. The trees came closer and closer. "What are we going to do, anyway?"
"Apprehend him--right?"
It was bound to be something easier said than done. Annie described Archibald Joseph as a pushover, but when the pair approached the other husky had--at least--discovered the virtue of firearms. He opened his jacket to reveal a pair of pistols and then, when that didn't warn them off, put the weapons to actual use.
A ricochet clanged off the underside of the disk. "Hey!" One of the lower windows cracked, then shattered completely, filling the bridge with an angry, howling wind. Keetso banked the yawl into a steep climb to put them out of reach.
"What do you want to do?"
Annie growled at the receding stagecoach. "If he makes it into a city, we'll lose him."
"Probably."
"Give me that." The husky was pointing to the revolver he'd taken from the raccoon and which was tucked into his jacket pocket.
Keetso pulled it free, carefully. "There's one shot left. How's your aim?"
"I don't know yet."
"You've never fired a gun before?" It hadn't come up in their time in Alaska.
Annie took the revolver without hesitating. "How many flying saucers have you piloted before today?"
Keetso looked over to her, and saw a hint of coyote reflected in Annie's narrowed eyes. "Good luck," he said, and began a shallow dive to catch up with Archibald's coach. He kept them in Arch's blind spot as long as he could. "Tell me when you're ready."
When they came alongside, Arch raised his pistol. Just as he pulled the trigger, Keetso wrenched the handlebars and the shot went wild. Archibald tossed the pistol away and pulled another from his vest. This time the coyote dropped down, with the saucer's belly skimming inches over the dirt road. "Ready, dear."
Or, if she wasn't actually ready, she was getting airsick. Keetso flicked the yawl up and over to the other side of the carriage, framing it with the shattered remains of the window so Annie didn't have to shoot through any glass. She raised the revolver and fired.
Keetso saw sparks flick from the hub of the coach's front-left wheel. It wobbled, and then the spokes gave out in quick succession. When the axle split the whole carriage dropped, snapping the strut that bound it to the horses. They carried on, a body in motion remaining in motion. Inertia, my boy, as Nick said.
Archibald Joseph did not seem in the mood to appreciate it. The black-furred husky pulled himself free of the wreck, looking rather dazed; his wits were only half-recovered by the time Keetso had the aeroyawl parked and secure.
"My father's work," Annie demanded from the slumped dog.
He gave a dismal snort. "I'm sure he's as proud of that as he is of you."
"Hand it over to us, Arch."
"'Us'?" The husky raised his head to look at them. "I should've known you were trouble. Always trouble. From the time Leon asked me to court you and you disappeared off to that... that university. Couldn't stop getting into trouble. And now this... this Indian? This coyote? But you know--you know--"
"The alloy," Annie insisted.
"--It's better this way. My mother expected purebred children. I wouldn't be shocked if you've always had coyote in you."
"Always?" Keetso couldn't help himself. "I thought I was your first."
"Not what he means, dear."
Archibald shuddered, shutting his eyes. "If I was not such a gentleman, I'd allow myself the moment of honesty to call you a bitch."
"That isn't how being a gentleman works." Annie rolled her eyes and, since the man clearly had no intention of cooperating, opened the door of the ruined stagecoach. It only took a moment before she emerged with a briefcase. Inside was a folder full of papers and an ingot of polished, silvery metal.
"Everything you were looking for?" Keetso asked. He didn't know anything about metallurgy: the notes were impenetrable and the ingot looked the same as any other chunk of steel.
"I think so."
Arch bunched his paws into ungentlemanly fists. "Maybe Leon let some impurities get into his steel, too."
"Maybe," Annie agreed. "If you're really lucky, they'll make the bars of your cell with it."
"Just stop. Take your... your worthless scrap metal and get out of here."
"Is that what it is? Even better--let me trade you." Her paw dipped into her jacket, then flicked contemptuously. Keetso heard the soft click of metal on the buttons of Archibald's vest; the ring tumbled, uncaught, to the dirt. "Let's go, dear. I believe we're done."
When the aeroyawl's turbines started humming again, Arch found the moment of honesty he was looking for. He found it again as they lifted off, but Annie wasn't listening and the coyote figured he didn't need to do so on her behalf. "Heading back to the barn?"
"I guess so. What sort of range do you think this has?"
"Not a clue." Craftsman of electricity though he might've been, Keetso was at a loss to explain how Nick's flying machine worked. It bordered on magic. Not the sort of magic he and Annie joked about, the spell Annie so shamelessly cast on him: the proper, exciting magic of secrets waiting to be unearthed.
"Probably not as much as that, huh?"
The Hanseatic drifted under low clouds like she shared their right to be there. The coyote tilted his head, leaning forward to look through the cockpit glass. "They can't have left already, right?" His curiosity was piqued. Even before Annie suggested it, he'd adjusted the aeroyawl's course to bring them alongside the zeppelin.
Her screws windmilled aimlessly; the massive airship drifted lazily on air currents that were very nearly still. Keetso maneuvered next to the bridge, spinning his own craft to point the missing pane of glass at the window out of which Captain Sanger leaned.
"Really? You two again?" The German Shepherd laughed. "The morning is full of surprises, then. How did you wind up in 'Nico's Pie Tin'? He said he had a 'plan'--but not that you were involved."
"He loaned it to us," Annie answered. "How did you come across us? You're on your way to the North Pole?"
"Nothing that exciting. Nico told me what was transpiring, and that these scoundrels were bound for Canada. I cabled Ottawa to let the government know. They weren't very happy about their sovereignty being abused, as you can imagine... so I'm here to show the flag. And to show that flags can be used for more than cleaning up blood. It was agreed that I'll take some 'guests' into custody."
Keetso doubted very much that Arnold Hollingsworth the Third, Servant of Her Majesty would appreciate being hosted. "Then the north?"
"Then back to New York, I suppose. At least for a small while--we're waiting for supplies. Yourself?"
And it struck him that the captain hadn't been shouting. With the Hanseatic's engines off, and the wind calm and steady, the only sound was the lenticular aeroyawl's subtle, reassuring hum. Beyond that it was silent: the open call of the clouds, close enough to touch, and the boundless sky above them, and a distant horizon.
A mile above cities and empires and family ties, they were alone with their thoughts. Keetso felt the husky's paw when it sought out his, and as their fingers interlaced any answer slid from his mind to join the clouds.
They could answer that call. Strange as it was, the path seemed, to him, easy as any other. As long as they were together, none of it mattered. Annie's paw squeezed tighter. She felt it, too.
The notion was wild, delirious in its optimism. Impulsive. Improper. Reckless. Far too trusting in the subtle magic of their clasped paws.
But you have to admit, he thought. It's beautiful.