Like a Wisp of Steam, Thomas Roche [list of e readers txt] 📗

emergency whistles wailed like unwatched teapots, and a new kind of flutter found its way into Trista's heart. Fear, this was.

"Don't stop," Cecilia whispered, "please!"

"But we're going to crash."

"Then let us crash as lovers crash!" Cecilia grasped Trista's wrist, to keep her hand firmly within her quim.

There was no helping it, Trista supposed. Crash they would, but if she could reach the venting lever, then perhaps the boiler would not explode when they crashed. Of course, whatever lay below would be soaked with the boiling mix—not simply water, the real science used mixtures of more toxic things to create the gasses necessary to power the technology. Simple water steam was for backyard hobbyists.

She reached her free hand for the lever, and found herself about three inches too short. She stretched, her fingertips brushed the lever, but then Cecilia yanked her back. Panting and grunting, she dragged Trista's fingers deeper still.

It was a difficult decision, actually, whether to try again for the lever or just give up and—

There was really no decision at all. Trista lunged for the lever, dragging her hand roughly from between Cecilia's legs with the sound of ripping lace—there went the doe-eyed girl's undergarments, alas, undoubtedly they were pretty—and Cecilia's whoop of surprise. Trista caught hold of the lever.

The sprawl was much larger now, the buildings looming over the airship. All too familiar, Trista half realized as she used all her strength to shove the lever.

The boiler began to vent its murk out the shunt valves, raining the stuff down on...

Oh, no. Trista realized just where her skyship was crashing.

Those fourteen-story buildings around her belonged to the Cog, Clockwork, and Steam Technologies School of Engineering, home for both herself and Cecilia. And Cecilia's father, headmaster Wayne Foglio. The venting had probably sent the caustic goop down into the University's central quad, which she now recalled had been cordoned off for a new presentation by prodigy student Byron Pedigrew.

Then, Cecilia caught hold of her hand once more and pulled it home.

As the brass and wooden construct slammed into the glass and granite façade of the Headmaster's Office, smashing its way through, Cecilia howled with orgasm.

Balloon lines sheared, and the flat, boat-like bulk of the ship slammed atop the headmaster's desk and then crushed it nearly flat. There was no explosion. However, Trista felt the sudden wish that there had been. Something fiery to spare her the many smaller explosions to come...

* * * *

"And they kicked you out for that?" Heck Lansdale was a flat-featured fellow with an infectious grin, a slight stoop to his posture, and the kindness to buy a lady a drink.

Not that Trista felt she was a lady at all. Ladies did not get themselves asked to leave one of the Nation's most prestigious institutes due to charges of Grand Destruction and the unacknowledged breach of proprieties with the headmaster's only daughter.

"Well..." Trista suddenly wondered just how much she might have divulged. She had hoped to gloss over several of the facts, keeping names (and, well, genders) out of the mess, but this wine was a little stronger than she was accustomed to. "Yes."

"So, then you came to Chicago?"

"Because of the World's Columbian Exposition, I thought I might be able to secure a patron to continue my studies..."

With the World's Fair showcasing so many architectural and industrial marvels, she had assumed that she might ride someone's coattails into a position of financial stability. While the schooling was now beyond her, short of some miraculous change of tempers, she could pursue the science as a dedicated hobbyist, which was how many of the advances in the steam-powered technologies came about in the first place. Alas, the task turned out to be even more monumental than she had assumed, due in no small part to the fascination with Nikola Tesla's alternating current electrical power, which lighted the entire affair. Her disappointment was made even more unbearable by the loneliness of knowing so few people in the city.

"Well," Heck Lansdale said, waving for another draught of wine, "it just so happens that you might have found an interested party after all."

Trista was no fool. This gentleman had only just met her, and though she had discovered just how uncomfortable she could be around the specifics of love, Trista knew well how some persons of low character might woo. Ah, to be with CeeCee, again! She would do so many things differently, if given another chance. But despite the looks of absolute adoration Cecilia had given her, Headmaster Foglio had a fit over the handling of his daughter, expressed through spiteful and thinly veiled metaphors regarding his broken desk.

"Thank you for the wine—"

"Let me assure you," Heck said, producing a folded paper from his pocket, "that my interests are legitimate. Your favors, while certainly attractive, hold a smaller level of interest for me than do your knowledge and acumen." Before she could stand up, he unfolded the paper, revealing it to be a poster for something called Lansdale's Traveling Show ofSteam and Irons, with play dates in a variety of cities.

"You have a Wild West Show?"

He offered a placating laugh. "We're more than trick shooting, though there's plenty of that as suggested by the 'Irons' part. We are a traveling menagerie of marvels.

Demonstrations of the greatest entertainments I can find, and with all the wonders of Steamworks, these days. I would be remiss not to offer such attractions to the folks of the circuit that cannot see them on their own." He tapped a pictorial representation of a literally steely-faced man. With all the passion of a carnival barker, he said, "Behold Benjamin, the cogwork man." Then, he smiled to himself. "However, Benjamin requires a bit of upkeep, and my steam-engineer has decided to pursue a career with another company." Was Heck's sadness more than proper for the loss of an employee?

Trista found herself wondering if Heck might not be hiding some deeper affection. "Sooo, I find myself in dire need of someone to keep ol' Benji running proper." His