Diego and the Rangers of the Vastlantic

“Say hello to Wendell,” Diego said.

“Whoa,” Paige said. “Now that’s a carnivore.”

“Largest tyrannosaurus ever recorded in the wild lands,” Petey said.

“He’s majestic,” Lucy said, but she stopped a few feet from the felt ropes that ringed the specimen.

Paige jumped right over them and stepped around one of the dinosaur’s thick legs. She moved under the creature’s chest, running her hand along its skin. “Wait, what,” she said, “this thing has feathers?” She brushed her fingers over soft, scalelike feathers around the creature’s leg. The pattern extended up around the underside of its neck.

“That’s going to be Wendell’s big surprise to the world,” Diego said. “She’s a species of T. rex never before seen.”

“She?” Lucy said. “But . . . her name’s Wendell.”

“She’s actually named after Wendy Dykstra,” Petey said, “the game warden who found the body out beyond the perimeter wall. She knew how important a specimen this was, so she hot-wired a class-four loader robot to get her over the wall before scavengers could.”

“But Wendell is a boy’s name,” Paige said.

“The museum wanted the dinosaur to have a boy name since the skeleton upstairs is Sue, so they changed Wendy to Wendell.”

“That’s how they reward her for her heroics?” Lucy said.

“There’s going to be a plaque by her that explains it,” Diego said. “Everyone will still know about her and what she did.”

“A plaque?” Lucy said. “Well, I guess the Time Collision didn’t change everything. It’s still a man’s world.”

“You got that right,” Paige said.

“Actually, Diego’s mom was part of it, too,” Petey said.

“Yeah,” Diego said, “she caught a glimpse of her on a training flight. She didn’t quite know what she’d seen, but she gave the coordinates to Wendy.”

“Your mom’s a pilot?” Lucy asked, turning away from Wendell. “Is she an explorer, or a bush pilot, or what?”

“She flies search and rescue for the air corps, but she used to be a fighter pilot. She fought against the Aeternum in their raids against New Chicago.”

“A famous fighter pilot,” Petey added.

“You—” Lucy’s mouth fell open. “You’re not talking about Siobhan Quinlan, are you? Not the famous fighter pilot, the hero of Dusable Harbor?”

Diego couldn’t help a wide grin. “Quinlan-Ribera now, but yeah. One and the same.”

“That’s—” Lucy shook her head. “Your mother is my hero. A woman who went well beyond her station in the Victorian world. But hold on . . . did you say Ribera? Like Santiago Ribera?” Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“No,” Diego said. “Those are my parents. What’s it to you?”

Lucy kept peering at him. “So . . . you’re saying that the fact that your mother is Siobhan Quinlan, my hero, and your father is Santiago Ribera . . . the purported genius engineer whose own steam converter was found wanting and had to be replaced by my father’s superior Goliath steam converter . . . you’re saying those two things are just coincidence?”

“What do you know about my father?” Diego said.

“Your father is the entire reason we’re here,” Lucy said. “It’s his inadequate steam converter that’s the reason I’m stuck in New Chicago for half a year. So that my father can save your city.”

“Wait,” Diego said. “You’re saying that your father is that Emerson guy my dad was talking about?”

“He’s not some guy; he’s George Emerson, the world’s preeminent steam engineer, who will be knighted by the queen herself, I’ll have you know.”

“Right, him,” Diego said. “We’re only using his old-fashioned steam tech out of pity.”

“Pity?” Lucy nearly shouted. “How dare you? My father is a genius. His converter design is superior to your city’s. Everyone says so.”

“Who’s everyone?” Diego said. “Everybody still living with gas lamps and locomotives? Maybe that’s nice by your standards, but you should open your eyes around town. My dad is a visionary.”

“How much of a visionary could he be if his son is such an arrogant fool?”

“You tell that wannabe,” Paige said.

“Okay, okay,” Petey said. “How about if we rejoin our classes before someone gets hurt?”

“Oh, I’d hate to miss that opportunity!”

The voice echoed out of the darkness. The four whirled toward the hallway they’d come from.

A match was struck, lighting four figures.

Fish sucked on his cigarette, the end glowing, as he and his gang stepped out of the shadows.

“Get out of here, Fish,” Diego said. He tried to sound tough, but his heart was racing. This wasn’t a public place like the exhibit hall.

“Can’t do that,” Fish said. He plucked his cigarette between two fingers and waved it in their direction. “Have to rescue the damsel.”

“What are you talking about?” Petey asked.

“It’s a classic tale, really. Damsel in distress and then along comes a hero and his mates.”

“That punk better not think he’s talking about me,” Paige muttered.

Fish scowled. “Not you, love. That one.” He pointed at Lucy.

“Oh, I’m in no need of a rescue, thank you very much,” Lucy said.

“Sure you are. Look at ya: led into associations with a Mid-Time colored girl and a half-breed clock mongrel.”

“Shut up, Fish!” Diego shouted. “What happened to you anyway?”

“I wised up.”

“Sounds like the opposite,” Petey said.

“You need to step off before you step in it,” Paige said.