Test Run

"It is beautiful," said Major Brathewate, his voice echoing in the large chamber.

"What is it?" Miss Abernathy asked.

"Why it's--it's--hang it all, does it really matter what it is? Look at the workmanship! Those lines--like modern architecture. Look at that polished brass work! I am truly impressed, Mister Maxwell."

"Thank you," said Maxwell Jones, wiping his left hand on the only clean area of his cotton lab apron. Soot and grease and other unidentifiable substances marked the once-white apron the inventor wore. Waving his right hand vaguely in the direction of the large machine that took up nearly half the floor space of his cluttered workshop, he radiated pride in his latest accomplishment. "She represents over five years of work in the construction alone. I call her my Ambulatory eXoskeletal Exploratory Engine. AXEE for short, though my assistant refers to her as 'Jenny.' Short for engine, I presume."

"Quite droll," chuckled Major Brathewate. "It looks like a cross between a centipede and a railway train, with a bit of iron bridge thrown in for good measure." The Major was a big man, his voice seeming to avoid any volume less than booming. Even in a conservative suit, he projected the image of the typical khaki-clad adventurer. It was difficult to imagine him in any attire other than pith helmet and sharply-creased khakis, with a big-bore rifle slung over one shoulder.

"That," replied Jones, "is as good a description as any I've heard. It is, as you say, part train and part insect. The steam engine, up there in the front, provides the motive power for the legs. The articulations between the engine, the fuel car, and the other five cars gave me quite the headache as I worked out the designs. The legs are patterned after those of spiders, actually. Multi-jointed and capable of not only walking smoothly, but changing the distance from the ground to the carriage by many yards. My AXEE can walk low to the ground, run as fast as a freight train, rise to tree-top heights, ford shallow rivers, and cross reasonably narrow chasms. All with perfect comfort and security for the passengers and crew. She requires only a full crew of seven to operate--Not counting the cook and any servants you wished to take along, but in an emergency, two crew members could drive her. There are seven Gatling gun emplacements--two on each of the passenger cars and baggage car roofs, those extend out between the legs on pylons to gain a clear field of fire--plus one more in an armored cupola atop the baggage car. She can walk over or wade though rivers up to seventy feet deep. In the event that larger bodies of water need be crossed, the lower hull of the carriages act like the hull of a boat. There are two small paddle wheels alongside each compartment that can be lowered to reach the waterline. Of course, these are disengaged from the drive mechanisms for the sake of safety while the legs are in use. When in boat form, the legs fold up even as you see them now, to reduce drag as she glides through the water."

"Has she been tested?" Major Brathewate asked, sniffing as the scent of freshly welded metal and fuel oil began to tickle his nose.

"In a limited way," answered Jones. "I've taken her up and down the River Severn for several leagues each way to test her boat form. I've walked her about in the fields nearby to test out her legs. I have yet to really open her up on land to see what her maximum speed might be, but she will be faster than a trotting horse. On level ground, of course. I have also taken her out for test crossing several small stream beds and narrow ravines in the countryside nearby. I even took her out for one run through a local quarry. She performed better than I had hoped. Ditches and streams and boulders are as nothing to her. Uneven ground passes un-noticed beneath her feet. She can cross over any ditch that is less than half her length, if her legs can extend down far enough to find firm footing. I have yet to attempt any excursion out to the mire, for fear of damaging her in the soft."

"But," asked the Major, "as you say, the limited tests you have given her indicate that she is capable of yet more than you have been able to devise?"

"She has performed above and far beyond my wildest expectations, Major. But remember," cautioned Jones. "The tamed landscape of Wales is far different from that found in Africa or the Americas. My little AXEE needs further testing. Something the home counties do not have to offer. She needs a run through wild territory. Yet not so wild so as to leave her passengers and crew forever stranded in case of a breakdown."

"Ah!" Miss Abernathy exclaimed. "If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion?" With her long dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, her subdued manner of dress, and the writing case she habitually carried, the young lady appeared every inch the professional secretary.

"But of course," replied Major Brathewate. "You have always demonstrated an able wit as well as wisdom, Miss Abernathy. You are by far the best secretary my late wife ever found for me. Say on!"

"You want a place that is wild," Miss Abernathy continued. "Yet not so far removed from civilization that rescue or return would not be possible? Someplace that has skilled craftsmen who would be able to effect repairs should Jenny become damaged? But yet a cross section of terrain that would give the machine a full test to the absolute limits of her capabilities? Yes?"

"Absolutely!" Maxwell Jones said, excitement writ large in his voice.

"Indeed," added Major Brathewate. "If I am to take Jenny into the wilds of Africa or South America, as I intend, then my expedition will be far beyond any reasonable hope of rescue or repair if disaster strikes. I take it you have just such a semi-civilized region of the globe in mind?"

"Oh, yes! I have indeed, Sir. Although the natives might balk at being termed half civilized," replied Miss Abernathy. "I am referring, of course, to my own homeland. I submit, Sirs, that if you wish for a true test of this machine in a place where civilization is never far enough away for the expedition's lives to be risked by mechanical breakdowns," said Miss Abernathy, waving her right arm in the direction of the machine. "It seems to me that the solution is quite obvious. You need to ship Miss Jenny over there off to the United States. A test run from Canada to Mexico, or from Savannah to Los Angeles, would encounter nearly every type of terrain that you would be likely to find in South America or Africa. Yet any skilled workmen that might be needed for emergency repairs would never be more than a few days away by horse, coach or train."

"By Jove!" Jones shouted with glee. "I do believe she has our perfect solution!"

"What did I tell you? The most capable secretary my beloved Estelle ever hired for me," said the Major with obvious pride. "That's settled then. Now we have some serious planning to undertake. We will need a full crew for Jenny, as well as yourself and your assistant. We will need fuel, water for the steam engine, provisions-"

"Extra parts for repairs," said Jones, running a hand through his dark hair. "On a test run something is bound to break. There's no predicting what might choose to give way."

"We will need room on a large steamship to transport Jenny to the States," added Miss Abernathy. "I shall look into that straightaway."

"To America," cried the Major as he threw his hat into the air.

"To America," cheered Miss Abernathy and Maxwell Jones in unison.

"Arthur! Over here, boy," shouted Jones as he stood on the dock at Savannah, Georgia. He was watching the unloading of the AXEE from the depths of the steamship that had transported Major Brathewate's trial expedition across the Atlantic from England.

"Here, Sir!" Arthur Andrews shouted in reply as he dashed up to join his employer. "Isn't this grand? I've never been abroad before, but I now find travel to be a wonderful thing." The young man shook his unruly blond hair out of his eyes, glanced quickly around at the hustle and bustle of the American dockyards, then turned to face the steamship they had recently departed. "Where is the Major and his secretary?" Arthur added. "Off seeing to our lodgings while we do the real work? I spoke to the engineer and the other crew. They seemed to think that they'd have no trouble driving Jenny off the ship and into the local train depot to refuel her for the first leg of our trip."

"As long as that old wooden ramp and the pier will hold her weight," Jones replied absently. He doffed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Beastly hot and humid here, isn't it?"

"I hadn't noticed, Sir." Arthur replied. "But you're right. It is humid. Makes the sweat pop off you worse than welding does. My shirt is soaked through. I'll want a quick wash-up, and clean clothes, before we set off in the morning. Will it be this hot all the way across the country?"

"That will depend on the course the Major has set for us, Lad. But as we go further West, it is bound to get hotter, unless we head quite a fair ways Northward," replied Jones. "I don't mind the heat, but whatever comes our way will be sure to test our machine to its limits."

"How long will it take to reach the other coast? Will we see any Indians? Or cowboys? I'd love to see some cowboys," Arthur said in that breathless manner that only young men in their early twenties seem to express their every new experience. Arthur's excitement was contagious, affecting Jones with equal measure as the two stood side by side watching their machine stride from the dock towards the nearby railroad yard where it was to refuel and await the boarding of the rest of the expedition. "Isn't she beautiful? It fair gives my heart a turn to see her in action."

"We will see plenty of action in the weeks ahead," Jones replied. "Now, I want you to make sure our crew find our hotel and get a good night's rest. You have your map?"

"Yes Sir," Arthur said. "The hotel is five blocks that way," he said as he pointed West Northwest. "The rail yard is right over there." Arthur pointed towards several clouds of steam and smoke rising into the air towards the Southwest, near to the docks. "What do I do if Pickles or Smitty or Mister MacAvoy decide that they wish to tramp over to the nearest pub?"

"Tell MacAvoy that if he can't get his men back to the AXEE before the Major decides to run his usual morning inspection of the troops--Well, the Major will sell his indenture to the highest bidder here and they will all lose their bonus pay for the voyage as well as their pay for the expedition. I've never known a Scotsman to forfeit a pay packet. If Misters Smithson or Pickworth take it into their heads to sample the city's fleshpots--other than the local taverns--kindly remind Pickworth of the conditions with which I arranged his probationary release from gaol and the magistrate's wish to place him right back behind bars. Our cook, Doctor Des Champs or--Yes, Sergeant Edwards ought to be of some assistance to you. He's one of the Major's men from his old regiment."

"That ought to turn the trick," Arthur replied with a wide grin on his face. "Pickles is terrified of being sent back inside."

"I'm off to the hotel, Arthur. It looks as if the AXEE is well on her way to the rail yard for refueling. I'll see you aboard in the morning. Don't you dare let anyone keep you from being there on time, even if you have to abandon them to the local police. I'll need you more than I'd need any three crewmen, if our machine breaks down on this test run."

"Don't worry Sir," Arthur replied. "Jenny is as much my labor as she is your invention. I'll be aboard long before the Major wants to shove off."

"Good lad," Jones said, his grin wide with both joy and pride. "We'll show this New World a thing or two once our AXEE sets out!" Laughing, Jones strode off towards the hotel. Thoughts of a good dinner filled his mind as he set aside his cares in the trust of his 23 year old apprentice.

"All aboard!" The hoarse, smoke-damaged voice of Mister Jonas MacAvoy, Master Railroad Engineer, rang through the early morning air of the Savannah railroad yard. "Last call for boarding!" The AXEE chief engineer watched the steam valves and pressure gages absently as his eagle eyes peered through the lank gray hair that he'd trapped beneath his cap. Although his fellow crew men might be suffering monumental hangovers from the flurry of hard drinking in the city's taverns, no sign of that would ever show on MacAvoy's weatherbeaten face. The half-century old Scotsman could still drink the young bucks under the table and yet be the first to appear for duty the next morning. The foggy morning air, already hot and with the promise of worse yet to come, stirred thickly around the AXEE as MacAvoy ran through the check list that Maxwell Jones had devised for the starting of the grand machine. Behind MacAvoy, muttered groans--and not a few curses--revealed the presence of his fellow crewmen, invisible in the morning fog.

"Good morning, Mister MacAvoy," said Maxwell Jones as he swung aboard the engine of the AXEE. "Everyone is on board. The Major gave me this chart of our course last night. We are to head North Northwest for 270 miles, turn West Southwest, and make our best time to the Mississippi river. Further directions will be determined there. Are we ready?"

"Yes sir," answered MacAvoy cheerfully. "We've got a full head of steam, 30,000 gallons of fuel oil, a fully-stocked dining car, 100 pounds of pipe tobacco, 50,000 rounds of ammunition, a train that walks on legs like a centipede, it's a foggy morning, and we're wearing goggles."

"Hit it, my good man! We're off!" Jones shouted, getting into the spirit of things.

"Hitting it, Sir," MacAvoy replied, smiling. As he pulled the levers that activated the walking legs, the AXEE slowly unfolded and rose some twenty feet into the air. "20% of altitude, Sir. Legs extended to 20% and all instruments read ready for commencement. Starting the drive mechanisms... Now!" MacAvoy pulled the main drive lever. The steam engine chuffed mightily and puffed out a huge cloud of smoke. There came another chuff and another cloud of smoke, then another and another and another as the machine gradually took its steps. Within moments the pace had accelerated from that of a man walking to that of a horse trotting. The motion of the machine's legs smoothed into a regular stride, as the speed built up the stride became more gentle and far less noticeable. Soon, the AXEE was running across the landscape at the speed of a horse at full gallop. MacAvoy and Jones watched the controls carefully, occasionally making minute adjustments to the various valves and jotting notes down on a sturdy clipboard fitted with waterproofed paper. After half an hour, the AXEE had extended its legs even more and was running on course faster than a normal steam train could barrel onwards on a level track. Faster and faster they flew, the smooth motion of the vehicle's legs blending into some fantastic magic carpet ride that seemed to carry the AXEE floating above the ground at the height of the nearest treetops.

"Sir! MacAvoy finally shouted above the din that the engine made. We're at least seven more hours out from Tallulah Falls. You should go back and join the passengers, Sir. You're doing Pickworth's job and he's hanging back letting you do it. Mister Jones, I really need you back there, keeping the Major out of my hair while I drive this thing. When you see Pickworth, tell him to get his lazy arse up here before I come to fetch him. Tell him if he wants to keep his teeth, to not be ticking me off, Sir."

Jones laughed, made a final notation on the clipboard in his hands, and shouted back. "Of course. You are exactly right. I'll fetch Pickles and send him to you. Be sure to make him regret his hangover, won't you?" The two men shared a laugh, and Jones began the walk back to the rest of the cars through the low tunnel built through the tanker car holding the vehicle's fuel supply. Emerging into the vestibule of the dining car, Jones encountered Mister Pickworth and related MacAvoy's remarks. Pickworth grinned as if in frightened apology, then dashed back the way Jones had come, only banging his head twice on the low roof of the tunnel. Jones laughed aloud, then turned to enter through the double set of doors each carriage of the machine boasted. Closing the inner set of doors as he passed, Jones noted the dramatic decrease in noise from the engine. Smiling with pride, Jones walked the length of the dining car, only slightly distracted by the scent of the afternoon luncheon being prepared by Doctor Des Champs. Going through the double sets of doors between the dining car and the first passenger car, Jones grinned even wider. His pride at working out all the engineering problems presented by the AXEE writ large upon his face. Swaying ever so slightly with the motion of the vehicle, he made his way back to the next passenger car. As Jones entered, he saw Major Brathewate sitting at a table in the large open area near the car's center. The Major was studiously examining a map, but glanced up when he heard Jones enter. He waved Jones onward and indicated a seat across the table from himself. No one else was in the car, except for Mister Parks at the bar who was busy mixing a pitcher of drinks. Gin and tonics, if Jones was to be considered a fit judge. Sitting down, Jones waved to Parks, indicating that whatever the Major was having to drink, Jones would gladly share.

"How are we doing? I didn't expect to see you for hours yet," said the Major in a pleased tone of voice.

"We're doing splendidly, Jones replied. "Our speed is slightly more than 45 miles per hour, at the moment. We are roughly 40 feet from the ground--Higher than the local tree tops. The engine is running at less than 50% of its rated ability. The drive train for the legs is showing no measurable strain. The legs are encountering no obstacles other than the trees we are above. The undercarriage is parting the highest tree tops like the shield I designed it to be, and the Dining Car smells like poached salmon."

"Excellent," the Major exclaimed. "I love salmon. I'm glad this leg of our journey is going so smoothly. Once we arrive in Texas, however, we will be nearly helpless until we finish crossing the Great American Desert. According to this map, between Dallas, Texas and Los Angeles is only one real bastion of civilization. A settlement in New Mexico, Socorro. Once we reach there and resupply, we will have nothing to fear but the endless miles of desert we'll have to cross until we reach the Continental Divide. Then once across those mountains, more desert until we reach the mountains East of California. The one obstacle we cannot cross would be the Grand Canyon. Even your wonderful engine is too small to bridge the gap across that!"

"Let me see the map," said Jones. Peering intently at the spot the Major indicated with a tapping finger, Jones quickly did some rough mental calculations. He then let out a low whistle of respect for Mother Nature. "You're right! That is the widest, deepest river canyon that I have ever seen. Still, if this were a pleasure cruise I'd like to go see it in person. Well, how do we get around that thing? North of it? South? Which is the shorter route?"

"I would say South. That cuts out several mountain chains as well as the Grand Canyon. We shall have to study that matter further on our way," the Major said. "But for now we have to plot a course between the Tallulah Gorge and the Mississippi River. I propose that when we turn West, we head for Greenville, Mississippi. Here, on the East bank of the river. Once we reach the Gorge, we shall give Jenny her first real test. Tallulah Gorge is 1100 feet deep and over 1800 feet wide at its widest extremity. If we can cross that, we should have smooth sailing until we cross the Mississippi River. If we manage the river crossing unscathed, then we can route around the Grand Canyon."

"Agreed," said Jones. He raised his gin and tonic in toast as Parks brought the drinks to their table. "To the crossing of Tallulah Gorge, and then beyond!"

"To the Gorge, and then beyond," agreed the Major.

"Good Lord!" Jones exclaimed at the first sight of Tallulah Gorge. The AXEE had slowed to a stop just beyond the rim of the canyon. Close enough for Jones and the Major to see the extent of the problem from the upper observation deck of the second passenger car. Looking through telescopes, Jones and the Major peered into the canyon's depths, as well as all around its rim. "That is--amazing! I count sixteen waterfalls, on this side alone."

"Notations on the map state that there are at least twenty waterfalls. Some from the edges of the canyon, and the rest along the course of the river. Well, well, well... What ever shall we do?"

"First off," replied Jones. "Climbing down those sheer cliffs would be impossible. Madness. We could backtrack to the South where the slopes are more reasonable, then ford the river and proceed up the opposite walls. But look, off to the North..."

"The lake, above the main waterfalls," said the Major.

"There are people down there," said Arthur as he passed his telescope to Miss Abernathy. "There at the base of that slope that looks like a slide. They are playing in the river like children."

"I see," said Miss Abernathy. Peering through the telescope and adjusting the focus, her face suddenly flushed red from embarrassment. "It appears that the natives of this region have little regard for proper decorum." Taking the telescope from her eye, she stared straight at Arthur. "I'm sure that you noticed that those people are more than half naked."

"I've never been able to focus that thing correctly," replied Arthur as he blushed. "All I saw was vague pink shapes that I knew were people."

"Sometimes," Miss Abernathy sighed as she turned her back to the canyon. "I doubt the natives of my country will ever earn the title of Civilized People."

"Don't worry, Miss," said Anthony Edwards. His deeply tanned face split into his usual good-natured grin. "People are people, wherever they're found. Learned that serving with the Major, I did. Those were the days, eh Major?"

"Indeed, Sergeant," said the Major. "If you aren't actually in battle with them, natives everywhere are very much the same."

"All anyone wants," said Sergeant Edwards. "Really wants, deep down, is a bit of fun to take the edge off of working. That, and to raise their families as best they can."

Jones chuckled at their exchange as he studied the Northern route across the river that fed into the canyon. "Nevertheless, I think that if we follow the Eastern edge of the canyon up to where the lake widens above that largest waterfall, we should be able to effect a rapid passage across the water. Then on to the Mississippi River."

The Major quickly looked at the forward end of the AXEE as its engine began to sound its steam whistle. "Oh dear," he said. "The crew seem to have discovered the use of a telescope as well." The Major breathed a heavy sigh. "Sometimes," he remarked. "I despair for the ranks of civilization. The coarser sentiments always seem to prevail."

"Don't worry, Major," said Jones. "There are hidden strengths to even the lowest of the working classes." Jones laughed again. "You may yet find that we shall need everyone of every class aboard. In the meantime, don't be so quick to judge those who have had a different upbringing from your own. There's a good chap... Ah yes, North, then West across the lake. I shall go and give the crew their orders. I recommend that everyone else retire to the passenger compartments and make sure that everything is properly stowed away before we attempt the lake crossing. There are still 500 miles to go before we reach the Mississippi River. Anything can happen."

"We shall instruct the cook to make everything secure for the water passage," said the Major. "While you go inform the engineers, we shall see to things back here."

"Mister MacAvoy," said Jones as he entered the engine. "Kindly make our way along this rim of the Gorge until we are well upstream of the waterfalls. We shall cross the lake using the paddle wheels."

"Very good, Sir. I've been wanting to give the legs a rest," said MacAvoy. "I'm not sure, but I believe I noticed a slight change in the sound of their mechanism. All this dodging up over trees, and then back down again may have placed them under a greater strain that your designs anticipated. Crossing the lake will take less than an hour--Once we reach a good place on the shore to enter the water."

"I agree," said Maxwell Jones. "Let's get Jenny back under way, shall we?"

"Very good, Sir." Suiting action to words, MacAvoy and Pickworth bent to their tasks. Within moments, the AXEE began to creep forward once again. Staying a prudent distance from the rim of the canyon, the machine carefully made its way Northward. Easily striding across the several streams that fed the series of small waterfalls along the canyon's Eastern side, the AXEE made short work of the passage. Arriving at a gentle slope to the shoreline of the lake above the largest waterfall, the mighty machine shortened its legs and strode into the water. Before it had traveled twice its own length, its lower hulls were floating and the legs had been completely retracted. MacAvoy manipulated the control levers so as to lock the legs high out of the water, and started the paddle wheel mechanisms turning. Alongside each car, pairs of paddle wheels churned the cool green water into white foam. Easily, the machine mastered the current and slowly pushed its way across the lake. Taking advantage of the lake crossing, MacAvoy, Jones, and the three mechanics of the crew spread out along the sides of the craft to examine the legs. Young Arthur joined his employer in the task as well. Jones was proud to see that the boy didn't neglect his safety line, nor did any of the crew scoff at the lifelines that fastened them to the vehicle. Pickworth proved to be an able pilot as he guided the vehicle across the placid water towards the distant lakeside. As the shore approached, the crew gave Jones their reports and left for their stations. Upon reaching the Western bank, MacAvoy resumed his duties as chief pilot. Under his deft hand, the craft slowed and he extended the legs carefully. One pair of legs at a time, the AXEE slowly levered itself out of the water and once more strode the land.

"I'm glad we took that time to check the mechanisms," said Jones to Arthur, as MacAvoy guided the machine back on course. "A bit more wear in the joints than I like, but still within the safety limits I've calculated. The cams on the legs appear in good condition, as do the gear racks and cogs that actuate the legs."

"We've used more fuel oil than I would like," MacAvoy called back over his shoulder as Jones and Arthur went over the crew's reports once again. "The paddle wheels are a less efficient drive system than the legs. We've burned up nearly 1000 gallons to cover less than 300 miles. At this rate we'll arrive in California with less than half our fuel left. That's not counting the extra we'll burn going over the mountains."

"The Major arranged to have fuel waiting for us in Socorro, in the New Mexico Territory" Jones replied. "Of course, we'll have to stop for water and provisions more often than fuel."

"Sir," said Pickworth. "I took the liberty of pumping more water aboard while we crossed the lake."

"Good Man!" Jones exclaimed. "I would have suggested that if I hadn't been so intent on inspecting the leg mechanisms. As for provisions, we should be able to stop near any town or settlement to resupply. I suggest we refill the water tanks for the boilers every time we have the chance. Once we get to the desert, we'll want full tanks for the crossing. As for now, I suggest we retire to the Dining Car. It is getting close to shift change for the crew. I'm certain that Edwards and Kohlstavitch will be dining right now. They should be along shortly to relieve Mister MacAvoy and Mister Pickworth. Come along, Arthur. We should go and see if Doctor Des Champs has managed to do that salmon justice."

Late in the evening of the second day of the expedition, the AXEE was in sight of the Mississippi River. The night and following day had passed uneventfully as the vehicle ran from Georgia to Mississippi. In fact, only a log entry by Mister Kohlstavitch complaining about the inefficiency of the machine's night time running lights marred an otherwise exceptionally smooth passage through the Southern landscape. The relief pilot was quite clear on that account. Striding down to the river's banks under Mister MacAvoy's firm hand once again, the AXEE gently plunged into the muddy brown waters of the mighty Mississippi. Following Mister Pickworth's example, the vehicle's water tanks were once more refilled as the craft chugged across the broad expanse of the river. Once the river crossing was achieved, the AXEE once more set its sights Westward.

"We're clear of the river and back under way," said Edwards as he slid into a seat at the table. "This machine fair eats up the miles, don't it?" He laughed, then signaled the waiter for a drink. "MacAvoy and Pickworth send their regards and wish to know the latest course heading, Sir."

"Three degrees North of due West," said Jones. "We shall take on water and provisions when we reach Wichita Falls. Roughly 500 miles. After that, another 500 miles to Socorro and our refueling stop. There are mountains we'll have to cross after that. The Major and I have decided that the Southern route will take us far enough away from the hazard of the Grand Canyon. Still, I would have loved to see that."

"Very good sir," said Edwards. "Kindly allow me to finish off this Whiskey and I'll return forward to report to MacAvoy." He grinned.

"Yes," Jones repeated. "I would have enjoyed seeing the Grand Canyon."

"Some other time," said Miss Abernathy as she smiled at Maxwell Jones across their table in the Dining Car. "Your enthusiasm is quite contagious. We've seen some marvelous scenery so far, and your invention has performed far above what the Major and I expected. Quite frankly, I had expected us to suffer a complete mechanical breakdown before we reached this point."

"Quite frankly, Miss Abernathy--"

"Please, I would prefer that you called me by my given name," Miss Abernathy replied with another smile. "I do think that we've shared enough time aboard your vehicle for you to be able to call me Susan." She reached out to touch Maxwell Jones, covering his calloused hand in hers.

From his seat, Major Brathewate smiled to himself. Standing to return to the engine cab, Edwards nodded his head knowingly at the young couple. From his own place at table, Arthur Andrews smiled in approval as well.

Mister Pickworth reported to the Major and Mister Jones in the dining car as the two gentlemen were finishing their morning coffee. Two nights and a day had passed as the machine  traveled from the Mississippi River to Socorro. Maps spread upon the table beside their breakfast plates, they listened to Pickworth's eager report.

"We've finished refueling," Pickworth said. "We've taken on more water and more supplies. Mister MacAvoy sends his compliments and requests the course for the next leg of our journey."

"Due West to Magdalena, then fifteen degrees South of West, towards Phoenix. From there it is almost a straight line to Los Angeles," said the Major. "Our only difficulty should be crossing the mountain ranges West of Magdalena. After that little jaunt, it should be smooth sailing all the way to Los Angeles and our freighter back to England."

"Bravo," said Edwards. "Aside from a tad extra wear on the machine, we've had a lovely walk across America."

"Tell Mister MacAvoy to make his best speed to the foothills of the mountains," said Jones. "We shall have to proceed cautiously during the ascent and descent, but once those ranges are behind us we should be able to run flat out to Los Angeles."

At the sound of the AXEE's whistle, Jones and the Major made their way up to the engine.

"What is it, Man?" Jones asked.

"This map is worse than useless," MacAvoy loudly replied. "These mountains twist and turn more than it lets on. If we want to make it across, I shall have to follow the natural valleys and passes. There is no way we can maintain a straight line without risking disaster."

"I trust your judgment," said the Major. "Set the course you think is best. Our lives are in your hands."

"We'll come out further South than the chart says we should," Pickworth added. "If that's a problem, then we should reduce speed and exercise extreme caution."

"Both," Jones exclaimed. "Reduce speed and follow the route you think best. We've come too far to risk disaster now! Are the extra lights we rigged up good enough to get us over the mountains safely?"

"They should be sufficient, Sir." MacAvoy shouted back over the thunderous chuffing of the steam engine. "Reducing speed now, Sir."

"Major," said Jones as he clutched Brathewate's shoulder. "Go back and warn the others that we're entering dangerous territory. Reassure them that we are doing everything possible to keep them safe."

"Yes," shouted the Major in reply. "I shall certainly tell her." He smiled and walked away.

The cold light of dawn saw them out of the highest mountains and rapidly dashing across a small plain between the foothills. Another, far lower mountain range loomed in the distance ahead. But for now, the flatlands were a blessed relief from the rugged path they had taken the night before. Jones was still in the engine compartment, drinking a huge mug of coffee. Except for taking turns during a short interval for a hastily-eaten breakfast once they'd reached the plains, the three men had not left the engine compartment all night.

"What's that?" Pickworth shouted, tugging at the sleeve of Jones's coat. "There, behind us and off to the South!"

"I'm not sure," Jones replied. Extracting his telescope he focused upon the rapidly moving blurs that Pickworth had noticed. "If I didn't know better I'd swear that was--"

"What, Sir?" MacAvoy asked. "We're going to have to slow down again for that next small mountain range. We can't cross that at a dead run!"

"Indians!" Jones shouted. The sound of a bullet striking metal near their heads caused all three men to duck instinctively. "We're under attack! They followed us down that last set of foothills. Hit the whistle, MacAvoy! We must wake the others! I'll go back and organize our defense!"

"Done, and done, Sir!" MacAvoy shouted back as Jones ran through the passageway of the fuel tanker towards the passenger compartments. Upon reaching the Dining Car, Jones found the Major just finishing his ample breakfast.

"What in thunder is going on?" Major Brathewate said upon seeing Jones dash into the car, out of breath.

"Indians, Major! We're under attack!" Jones gasped in reply.

"Battle stations!" Major Brathewate shouted. Reaching up to a cord above the table, he pulled it, sounding an alarm bell. As Arthur, Susan, and the remaining crew appeared he shouted a hurried explanation. "Apaches! I saw their territory marked on the map last night. We've trespassed into their claims. I'd hoped our passage would be too swift for them to bother with us, but alas, I was wrong. Man the guns!"

Susan and Arthur stood, as if in shock. "Move, children," added the Major. "Our only chance is to drive them off!"

"We slowed enough during the night to allow them to gain the upper hand," Jones said to the Major. "We can't accelerate rapidly enough to leave them in our dust before they can reach us. When we are forced to slow up again to cross the next range of mountains, they will surely catch us up."

"No matter," said the Major as he stood to go back to the gun emplacements. "You provided us with stout weapons to defend ourselves. Now we must trust that our arms are worthy of the task ahead. Good hunting, Sir!"

"I'll take the gun on the port side of the baggage car," said Edwards. "Smithson, you take the port emplacement on the second passenger car. Parks, Skinner you two have the starboard guns on the baggage car and rear passenger car. Jones and the Major have the front car's guns. Arthur, Susan, man the cupola. It has the best armor. You'll be safer there. Step lively now!"

Jones and the Major ran forward to the first passenger car, then climbed ladders, each to one side. Reaching the gun emplacements on the roof, it was a simple matter to unlock and swing them out from the sides of the vehicle. Jones saw the other gun emplacements swing out and lock into place from the roofs of the second passenger car and the baggage car. Jones could see Arthur and Susan climbing into the gun emplacement in the cupola of the baggage car. They looked to be having no trouble levering their gun into place. Susan loaded the Gatling gun as Arthur aimed and turned the crank. "I only hope I designed adequate shielding," muttered Jones to himself as he tripped the lever to lock the gun mount into place some ten feet from the sides of the AXEE. "I think I could strengthen these frames a bit," he added as the bouncing of the gun mounts came close to making him loose his recent breakfast to nausea. Pouring bullets into the loading hopper of the Gatling gun, Jones absently made sure he had several more boxes of ammunition close at hand. "Some sort of bracing to reinforce the pylons where they swing out beyond the legs," he added as his busy mind kept detailing improvements to the vehicle's designs. Peering out through the narrow slit in the emplacement's armor as he pivoted the gun towards the rapidly approaching warriors, he began to turn the crank handle on its side.

He heard the others begin to fire their guns as well. The Apache were well within range. Arrows and bullets from their weapons crashed against the metal shields of the gun emplacements as well as the sides of the vehicle itself. Seven streams of high velocity bullets began to pound their way toward the attacking Indians from the guns of the AXEE in answer to the unexpected attack. The Gatling guns banged and spat out their deadly projectiles. Clouds of dust rose to obscure the attackers as bullets struck the ground when they missed the Apaches. Indians were knocked from their horses, horses were struck down, and the cries of the dying shrieked out into the air as the guns of the AXEE roared in defiance. The din of the guns quickly became louder than the crash and huff of the steam engine. Over the sounds from the vehicle, the battle cries of the attackers could still be heard. The screams of the Indians and the roar of the guns blended together into an unholy cacophony.

In the engine, MacAvoy and Pickworth worked furiously to increase their speed. "Stay down, man," MacAvoy shouted at Pickworth as Apache bullets ricocheted inside the vehicle's control cabin.

"I'm hit," shouted Pickworth. "My hand!"

"You'll live," MacAvoy replied. "Don't just stand there, wrap a rag around it and keep working! We have to get more speed up or we're all doomed!" In what seemed like eons, the AXEE gained enough speed to outrun their attackers. On and on they flew, the valiant crew of the AXEE driving past all previous danger limits to urge the utmost from their metal steed. Reaching the almost unthinkable speed of sixty miles an hour, the machine finally left their attackers behind in the dust. The remaining Indian warriors reined in their horses as the crew ceased fire. Arthur, in the armored cupola of the Baggage Car, peered at their attackers through his telescope, and finally shouted the all clear signal.

Within what seemed like moments, the machine crossed the last distance to the foothills of the mountains and suddenly slowed to begin the ascent. At some thirty miles an hour the AXEE began climbing the last foothills between themselves and freedom. Hardly slackening their madcap pace, the machine lurched up the foothills to a low pass, and then scrambled back down into the plains beyond. Smokestack belching dark clouds, the vehicle raced onward, picking up speed again in the flatlands beyond the last mountains.

Faster and faster, the AXEE ran across the level ground. For an hour or more, the engineers drove the mighty machine onward at the very limits of its ability. Finally, the Major was able to convince MacAvoy to slacken their speed to a more reasonable rate. Even then, the only reason his words succeeded was the groaning and shrieking sounds of tortured metal the machine was sounding.

"Where are we? How far off course did we go? I don't like the sound of those fittings," Jones said.

"At this speed, we're only minutes from Phoenix," the Major replied.

"400 miles to Los Angeles, then. Good," said Jones. "I'm sure we strained the mechanisms to the breaking point in that last mad dash for safety. Did anyone get injured in the attack?"

"Edwards is dead," said the Major.

"Oh, good God!" Jones exclaimed.

"I counted nine bullet wounds in his upper chest as I pulled him from his gun emplacement. He never stopped firing until his heart stopped beating. Smithson will be lucky if he doesn't lose his left arm. Doctor Des Champs thinks he can save the limb, but he's worried about infection. Now I know why you insisted that the cook was also a medical man. Pickworth lost a finger to a bullet. MacAvoy has a few more scars from flesh wounds he got from bullets ricocheting around in the engine cabin. A little blood lost, but he's fine otherwise. Kohlstavitch, Parks, Skinner, and Susan are also uninjured, but Arthur is going to have to grow his hair long to hide a nasty scar from a round that creased the left side of his head, over his ear. He could have died, Maxwell! I'd of blamed myself. Thankfully, Arthur dodged to the right instead of left when that damned bullet came by. Apaches! I'd rather stand against the Zulus, myself!"

"No, don't blame yourself Major," said Jones. "I should have designed better shields for the guns. I never thought that we'd have to actually use our weapons in America--" A groan of tortured metal sounded as one damaged leg joint took up its share of the vehicle's weight.

"Piffle!" Brathewate exclaimed over the metallic clamor. "When you've gone out against the great unknown as many times as have I, then you can regret your lack of foresight. We got off lightly. Lightly, I tell you! Now, in all seriousness I have to ask--What are your intentions towards Miss Abernathy? I've seen the way you two look at each other. Will you stand by your honor, Sir?"

"Susan? She's--She's--Damn it all, Major-"

"Call me Edgar," said Major Brathewate. "You've earned the right to use my Christian name. Brothers in blood, as it were. Brothers in adventure, by all means."

"Edgar, of course I love her. What sane man wouldn't? But I'm just a glorified blacksmith," said Jones. "What right do I have to expect her to--" The AXEE lurched again, its faltering steps revealing more damage to its systems.

"Balderdash!" said the Major. "She loves you, Boy. Marry her. We'll be in Los Angeles in seven hours. If I can't scare up a fit priest there, then I've no business being one of the Queen's Own!"

"Would she accept?" Jones asked.

"If she doesn't, then she's got no place in my expedition to Africa. The two of you were made for each other. Beyond that, I have to get you back to England so that you can make improvements to this marvelous machine of yours. A honeymoon in Africa? Exotic locals, sultry nights, a fine man at her side--What more could a woman ask?"

"Seven hours to Los Angeles," said Jones, pointing to the damaged mechanical limb. "If that leg over there doesn't break down. Then four months aboard ship back to England. Do I dare--"

"My boy," said the Major. "I've spent my life exploring the unknown corners of the world for Queen and Country. I'm here to tell you that the real question is 'do you dare fail to make the attempt?' But if I am any judge, You are more than up to the challenge!"

"Sir!" Arthur interrupted, dashing up out of breath. His bandage showed traces of blood seeping through from his wound. "MacAvoy says that we're losing hydraulic pressure! A line must have been hit in the attack. He recommends we stop for repairs."

"More delays," sighed Maxwell Jones. "We risk missing our steamship."

"We've reached Phoenix," said Brathewate. "We'll stop at the train yards for the repairs."

"Then on to California," said Jones.

"Susan," said Jones as they reached Los Angeles two days later. "Would you do me the honor--"

"I've been waiting for you to propose," she replied, smiling. "Of course I'll marry you, Maxwell. I thought you'd never get around to asking, you silly arse. I've loved you since the day we first met, in your laboratory in England."

"As I have loved you," said Maxwell. "Though I never dreamed that you'd feel the same as do I. I must be the luckiest man in the whole wide world!"

"And I the luckiest woman," Susan said. "But look--There..."

She took his hand and they turned towards the city lights, to face their future, together.

Does anyone actually need a bio of Dan Hollifield these days?

OK, Dan L. Hollifield is Aphelion Webzine's Serior Editor and Publisher. He began the zine in February of 1997 when "Dragon's Lair Webzine" unexpectedly closed with several writiers having unfinished serialized stories running there. Dan is it co-creator and sole editor of the Mare Inebrium shared universe series here on Aphelion, with a collection of his own Mare Inebrium stories forthcoming from Dark Oak Press in the somewhat near future. He has written for Dragon's Lair Webzine, Titanzine, Steel Caves, The Writer's Club, and Aphelion---Sometimes all in the same month. He is a writer, artist, graphic artist, poet, lyricist, musician, composer, steampunk maker, costumer, prop-maker, FS&F fan, SMOF, and used to do book & CD reviews back when he actually had time to devote to that sort of wonderful thing. Next in a long line of pending projects is the 4th volume in the "Cresperian Saga" book series, which he has been invited to co-write with Stephanie Osborn. He has three music CDs available on Create Space and downloads of same available on Bandcamp. The third album is an officially licensed soundtrack to Stephanie Osborn's first four "Displaced Detective" novels. He lives in the wilder reaches of Madison County somewhat near Colbert, GA with his wife, two dogs, eighteen cats, and various species of wildlife in the trackless wilderness behind their house. He regularly attends the AnachroCon steampunk convention in Atlanta, Ga as well as the LibertyCon SF&F convention in Chattanooga. He raises wetland cacti and attempts to make Kudzu & SweetGum trees extinct in his spare time...