The Wild Wild West

The Night of the Airship

By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: The characters from the show (and other shows) aren't mine. Any remaining characters and the story are! This follows the timeline I started in The Night of the Lazarus, but while it continues the basic storyline, it will likely be more self-contained than The Night of the Time Travel and The Night of the Deadly Codename are. The most important notation is that some of the assorted characters from the episodes The Night of the Sudden Plague and The Night of the Poisonous Posey are around as main characters, and some of them are on friendly terms with Jim and Arte after the adventures they had in the prior stories. Also prominent as a protagonist is a character from the Hear No Evil episode of Cannon.

Chapter One

Somewhere in the Western United States, circa 1874

"Dr. Loveless! Come back here!"

Artemus Gordon's voice echoed hopelessly over the jagged rocks and mountains of the Southwestern desert. There was no response and of course, he knew there wouldn't be. Once again, Dr. Miguelito Loveless had vanished upon the failure of his latest scheme.

The galloping of hooves signaled the arrival of James West. Artemus turned to look at his longtime partner and friend in the moonlight.

"It's no use, Jim," he said in discouraged exasperation. "Loveless is gone—just plain gone!" He gripped the reins, his horse's ears twitching at the conversation.

"As he usually is," Jim intoned with a frown. "Arte, we'll just have to be satisfied with having stopped him from turning the entire United States into a desert."

"And that's no small consolation," Arte hurried to interject. "I just wish that we could get him behind bars once and for all. There's no telling what he'll come up with next!"

Jim nodded. "Whatever it is, we'll just have to stop him again when he brings it out." He turned his black gelding away from the scene. "Let's get back to town, Arte. We still have to go through the rest of his laboratory equipment."

"What do you want to bet that before we can get that far, the whole thing will explode?" Arte countered as he directed his horse to follow Jim's.

"Arte, you're becoming entirely too cynical," Jim said, but he was only half-joking. He knew that Dr. Loveless would not want to leave all of his latest secrets out for the Secret Service to go through.

Indeed, before they had traveled much farther, a treacherous boom rocked the desert floor and a burst of flaming colors appeared in the distance.

Arte nodded, looking to the blast. "And just what do you call that?" he said with a knowing gesture.

"One demolished laboratory," Jim said flatly.

"Exactly." Arte looked to him. "Do you want to go through the rubble, by any chance?"

"We should, just in case something important survived." Jim started off again, heading for the smoking crater.

With a sigh, Arte followed.

"I wonder how everyone else is doing back in the 21st Century," he mused. "I wish we were there now too, enjoying the amenities of the Oak Bridge Golf Club, instead of preparing to go through Dr. Loveless's newest contribution to the world of expired buildings."

"So do I," Jim answered.

It had been a strange freak accident courtesy of Dr. Faustina that had sent Jim, Arte, and a concourse of past enemies and allies through a portal and into the year 2012. They had discovered a new and exciting future, and while most of the group had opted to live there either permanently or semi-permanently, Jim and Arte had chosen to return to their lives in 1874. They visited whenever possible—or whenever a case called them there. Arte had still not found the time to make the portal invisible and unusable to the general populace. Every now and then, someone unknowingly wandered through either to the past or the future. Some of Jim and Arte's visits consisted of returning frightened and bewildered people who stumbled into 1874—or retrieving people who entered 2012 and now 2013.

A smoking crater was just about all that was left of Dr. Loveless's latest hideout when Jim and Arte arrived. Jim lowered himself to the ground and began to walk amidst the debris, holding a lantern high to inspect whatever fragments might have survived. Arte did the same, moving in a separate direction. Soon they managed to circle the site and return to their starting point.

"Well, I guess that about does it," Arte sighed. "Let's go, Jim. Maybe we can get back to the hotel in time for a nice, relaxing soak in the tub before bed." He grimaced, placing a hand on his lower back.

But Jim had caught sight of something. He frowned, bending down with the lantern and reaching for the object.

Surprised, and dreading the results of said surprise, Arte stepped closer. "What is it?"

Jim lifted a small piece of paper that was already crumbling in his palm. "I don't know," he said. "But I don't like the looks of it."

Arte leaned over, squinting at the remnants. "There's only one word still legible," he said. "Raven. What's so unsettling about that?"

Jim straightened, still keeping hold of the fragment. "There was an organization of criminals and renegades called Raven," he said. "It disappeared after the leader escaped. But I always had the feeling I'd be hearing from them again someday."

"Oh, that's right," Arte blinked. "I remember now—you made a report on it. You and Frank Harper had the case while I was stuck in Washington." He shook his head. "I'm telling you, Jim, that was one of the strangest reports that ever crossed Colonel Richmond's desk. Crooked eye doctors! Hypnotizing kinetoscopes! An overly intelligent man with a big head and a pet raven!"

"I know, Arte. I know. But it all happened. And Tycho, the overly intelligent man, got away." Jim frowned at the scrap of paper. ". . . What do you think would happen if he and Dr. Loveless ever met?"

"James, don't say such things!" Arte exclaimed. "You'll give me nightmares in my sleep for a week! From the way you described Tycho, I would have to say that any meeting between him and Dr. Loveless would be a complete and utter disaster."

Jim nodded. "It would be." He turned, heading for his horse.

Arte hastened after him. "Are you trying to say you think maybe that meeting has happened?"

Jim glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know, Arte. I can't say. Not based on one piece of paper that says Raven. But it's something to think about."

"I'd rather not think about it, thank you very much," Arte declared.

The two agents got back on their steeds and rode towards town, troubled both by the events of the evening and by Jim's newfound suspicions.

Neither had any idea that they were about to plunge into a new and alarming mystery—and that several of their friends would become prey to its darkest elements.

Gardena, Los Angeles County, circa 2013

"Alright, Dixie. See if you can beat this hand."

"I already have."

The gravelly-voiced Southerner smirked at his opponent as he laid down his cards. This would be his biggest win of the evening, and he intended to stop here, while he was ahead. He had been a professional gambler years ago, and though he had only recently adopted that line of work again, he had proved to himself that he was still good at it.

It was strange, he mused to himself as he drew the winnings over and began loading the chips and change and cash into his hat. He had never once thought that he would end up here, in this odd little corner of Los Angeles where casino-style gambling was legal. Until a few months ago, he had been sure that he would meet his end via one of the criminal organizations he had fallen in with—or by destroying a doomsday device set to eliminate most of the world's population. He had finally proven his worth to others and to himself with the latter act, and had decided to make an effort to turn his life around, at least somewhat. And although he still made mistakes and slipped back now and then, he hadn't been doing too badly.

Moments later he had cashed in and was heading for the door. But just as he reached it, someone else drew it open and entered, nearly crashing into him.

"Hey!" he snapped. "Watch where you're going, Pal."

"I beg your pardon?" The other voice was annoyed, arrogant, and gravelly with a British accent.

The gambler frowned and stopped, really looking at the man who had almost plowed into him. And although he tried not to stare, he really couldn't help it. Several other people nearby were staring as well.

The newcomer did not seem surprised. "I see some things haven't changed in the course of the last 139 years," he declared. "You relatively normal humans—that is, normal by your own subversive, miniscule standards—can't refrain from gaping at anyone who doesn't fit into your precious little patterns."

"I . . . I'm just surprised, is all," the gambler retorted. "I don't mean no disrespect."

The stranger studied him for a moment and then smiled, a dark, unsettling smile. "No, I don't think you do," he said. "You, after all, don't fit into a pattern either, do you? Not with that noticeable disfiguration on your face."

The gambler clapped a hand over his left cheek. "I didn't always have this," he muttered.

"Of course not. It's a scar from some old injury. A wound from a burning knife, perhaps?" The stranger rocked back, satisfied. "I, however, have indeed always been the way you see me now. But it only means that I have twice the mental capacity of you or any other 'normal' human."

The gambler frowned. "Are you trying to say that the reason your . . . uh . . . head's so big is because you've got more brain-power?"

"Exactly." The stranger's eyes lit up. "I immediately deduced, for example, that I have stepped into a new and strange world—the future. And I say this to you because you also stepped over once, didn't you?" He indicated the other's clothing. "Your manner of dress is fitting for a riverboat gambler in the 1860s. But as you can see, you and I are the only ones attired differently from everyone else in this establishment."

The gambler slowly smirked. "You're lucky you didn't just walk into a convention."

"A convention?" The stranger looked confused. "Of what?"

The gambler had to admit, he took a certain pleasure in seeing this character's arrogant mask falter. "Of people from this time period walking around dressed like us," he said smugly.

"They actually do that?" The stranger frowned. "Why would they regress in that manner instead of progressing with their times?"

The gambler shrugged. "They usually do. But sometimes I guess they think the good old days sound better than what they've got here and they want to make like they lived then instead of now."

"How pointless," the stranger sniffed.

"Whatever makes them happy." The gambler crossed his arms. "You've never said who you are."

"Nor have you. And since I am the newcomer here, I believe you should reveal your identity first."

The gambler didn't feel up to arguing. "Snakes Tolliver."

"Ah, I see. A moniker derived from that scar on your face." The stranger looked pleased again. "You may call me Tycho."

"Okay. What is it you want, Tycho?"

"I wish to know if you've seen a man called Dr. Miguelito Loveless," Tycho said.

Snakes froze. "The mad scientist?! No, I've never met him."

Tycho nodded, displeased. "He should have found his way here by now. I suppose I will have to retrace my steps looking for him." He started to turn to leave.

Snakes grabbed for his arm. "Hey, wait!" Tycho stiffened. "What do you want him for?"

Tycho slowly looked back, his eyes dark and cold. "Unhand me."

Snakes jerked his hand away. "I just asked you a question."

"I do not permit myself to be manhandled, by anyone. And as for my business with Dr. Loveless, you will know that soon enough." Tycho started to smirk. "If you have any thoughts of getting in our way, I can promise you that your end will be very unpleasant and very final. Goodnight, Mr. Tolliver."

Snakes stood stock still, gaping after the bizarre visitor as he turned and haughtily walked out of the casino. His heart thumped faster, a sign of his shaken and disturbed feelings from Tycho's parting words. Snakes had found his honor, but that did not mean he had stopped fearing torture and death altogether.

"What's going on here?"

Snakes started and turned at the sound of the casino owner's voice. Slim Marcus had just stepped out of his office, accompanied by a concerned hostess.

"Mr. Tolliver, am I to understand that a strange man just walked in here and threatened you?"

"Uh . . ." Snakes looked from him to the girl. "Yeah," he said at last. "Yeah, he did."

"He won't be allowed in here again. I'll make you a promise of that," Slim vowed. "I hope this experience won't dampen your interest in coming here."

"Thanks," Snakes stammered. "No, it won't. I'll be back."

"Good," Slim nodded and relaxed. "Marcia here managed to discreetly take his picture with her cellphone. I'll have a copy given to every staff member." Again he looked somewhat tense. "Do you . . . want the police called in?"

"No," Snakes said quickly. "No, that's okay."

Relief flickered in Slim's eyes. Snakes knew why—Slim was an ex-convict, trying to put together the shattered pieces of his life. If the police were called in, for whatever reason, it could reflect rather badly on Slim.

In some ways, Snakes could feel for the guy. Slim had been in prison after framing some young girl for a death he had accidentally caused during a struggle for a gun. Not thinking clearly about the fact that he had only tried to protect himself, he had panicked and felt that the thing to do was to cast blame for the death on someone else. He had regretted it almost immediately, leading to an emotional and guilt-ridden confession in court after being attacked by his former business partner.

Snakes could relate to the overwhelming feelings of fear for one's life that led to stupid things such as what Slim had done in framing that girl—and what Snakes had done in trying to eliminate the entire Posey gang before they could kill him.

Nevertheless, it was largely for his own reasons that he rejected the idea of calling the police in now. He was still living under the radar for the most part, with hardly anyone aware that he did not actually belong in this time. If the police got involved chasing some nut who was also not from this time, the whole truth could come out and be very bad for not only Snakes, but also the others who had chosen to settle in this time to live.

"I'll just be going now," Snakes said hurriedly. "I'll be back soon, like always."

He stepped into the Los Angeles night, hailing a cab as it passed by the casino. He climbed into the back, glad that he had not needed to wait a long time for one.

"Where to, Bud?" the driver asked.

"Oak Bridge Golf Club," Snakes answered. Ray Norman or Coley Rodman might still be up. And if they were, they needed to know about the encounter with Tycho as soon as possible.

Jim West and Artemus Gordon needed to know about it, too. But Snakes had no idea where they were at the moment.

However, knowing them, they would probably be along any time now. Everyone knew that Dr. Loveless was their arch-enemy. If he had wandered into the present day along with Tycho, it wouldn't take Jim and Arte long to figure it out and track him here.

Snakes sighed, leaning back in the seat. It would be a long drive to Oak Bridge, which was at the foothills of the mountains. By that time, who knew what else might have gone wrong.

It's probably about time for me to invest in a cellphone, he decided to himself.

xxxx

"Coley, why do you let that cat lay on you?"

Coley Rodman, former outlaw and current head of security, sleepily grunted at his friend and old second-in-command Lafe. He was lying on a couch in the Oak Bridge library. Jane, a steadily purring silver Persian, was lying on Coley's left side.

"She does what she wants," he mumbled.

"You could just stop her," Lafe remarked.

Coley shrugged. "I tell her to cut it out if I've had enough."

Lafe shook his head and sat on the edge of a coffee table. "In some ways, Coley, you really are different," he commented.

"Yeah, I guess." Coley rolled onto his back, lifting Jane into his arms at the same time. She was agreeable, purring louder and closing her eyes in bliss. "You've been here for a while now. Do you still like it?"

"Yeah, I like it. It's different, and I don't think I'll ever get used to how fast these new transportation things go, but I like it okay." Lafe hesitated.

If Coley wasn't around, Lafe was sure that he would go back to his own time. He was still not fully sold on going straight, even though he had agreed to a trial run of working as one of Coley's security guards. Nor was he fully sold on the modern world. It would be a sweet set-up if he was still robbing towns, but when it came to living honest he just couldn't figure out what to do with the place.

"Lafe . . ." Coley sat up, placing Jane on his lap. "Are you really happy being here? I know you were disappointed by how that meeting turned out. I am too. But we both half-expected it."

Lafe sighed. "None of the others wanted to come, Coley. They all thought we were crazy."

"You thought that too, at first," Coley pointed out. "Maybe now that you've put the idea in their heads, some of them will change their minds after a while. It's another option for them, one they didn't know they had before you told them."

"Maybe." But Lafe didn't sound hopeful. "I guess I . . . I wonder how you adjusted so well. I know it's probably because of Ray."

"It was also that I was ready for a change," Coley said. "And I didn't care if that change came in another time and place." He nodded thoughtfully, a bit sadly. "I think that's the problem right there—you weren't ready for a change. You came here to work because of me, not you."

Lafe frowned. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"West and Gordon managed to get those warrants out on you dropped, since you helped in trying to save the world at Christmastime," Coley said. "You could go back, if you really wanted. And if you went straight there."

"I guess I don't know if I could do it there," Lafe admitted. "Coley, I . . . I'd really rather stay here. It's just that I . . . wish I fit in better. I still can't figure out some of these crazy new inventions."

Coley smirked, dryly. "I can't figure out some of them, either. But look, Lafe." He sobered. "We're always going to stick out at least somewhat. We have to. We're from another time. We were raised different, with ideas that a lot of people here think are old-fashioned now. And as much as we try to fit into things here, that's not going to change. Anyway, I hope it doesn't. I'm part of two worlds and I've accepted that. If you're going to live here, you have to accept it too."

Lafe considered that. "That makes sense," he admitted. "You always did figure out how to make things sound logical."

"Good." Coley started to stand, holding Jane. "It's late. I'd better get Jane back to Mrs. Featherstone."

"And I'd better check in with the security room, make sure everything's quiet," Lafe said, getting up as well.

But before either of them could move, Ray rushed into the room, stunned and bewildered. "Something's hovering over the golfing green!" he cried.

Coley stared. "What do you mean, something's hovering?" he frowned. "How come we didn't hear any noise?"

"There isn't any!" Ray exclaimed. "One of the security guards saw it suddenly show up on the screen just now, coming down on the green, and I ran into him when he was coming to tell you!"

Coley set Jane on the floor. "So what kind of thing is it?"

Ray shook his head. "That's something else bizarre. It looks like a zeppelin!"

That was a new word on both Coley and Lafe. They gave Ray equally blank looks. "What's a zeppelin?" Lafe wondered.

"A solid airship," Ray said. "The place where the fuel goes isn't like a giant balloon, as it is in a blimp." Occupied, he turned and hurried towards the back exit, leading onto the beginning of the green.

Coley and Lafe were still fairly baffled. They chased after Ray, not noticing that Jane was scampering at their heels.

They all stopped short and stared in disbelief when Ray flung open the door. Indeed, a very large, very strange object was hovering just above the grass. And a little man was standing on the grass in front of it, flanked by several vicious men.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he greeted with a smile.

"Who are you?!" Coley demanded. His hand started to travel near his gun. While he was not concerned about the little man, he was definitely concerned about the rough hoods he had brought with him.

"My name is Dr. Miguelito Loveless," was the reply. "You know Mr. West; I'm sure he's talked about me."

"He has," Ray said. "And he hasn't had much of anything good to say. What are you doing here?!"

"Why, I thought I'd bring my new invention to show him," Dr. Loveless smiled.

"He isn't here," Ray retorted. "And as I recall from history, you didn't invent the zeppelin."

Dr. Loveless's eyes burned. "I didn't make it available to everyone, but yes, Mr. Norman, I invented it!" he declared. "I can't help that later on, someone else had the same basic idea! Without, I might add, some of the improvements I have made to this particular one."

"Alright, nevermind." Ray crossed his arms. "Mr. West and Mr. Gordon aren't here."

"Oh, I know they aren't." Dr. Loveless started to chuckle. "But I'll get them here, with your help. Step aboard, please." His thugs raised their guns threateningly, pointing them at the group.

Coley grabbed his gun. "What if we don't?" His eyes narrowed. "I've got guards all around this place." Even as he spoke, the security guards were attempting to move in on the scene, tense and bewildered by the display.

"Yes, but I can easily tell George or Butch to shoot one of you if your guards try to make another move," Dr. Loveless said calmly. "You're all expendable, gentlemen; you could all be killed. Mr. West wouldn't have to know that I was holding corpses hostage."

Ray stiffened. "He'd come to you without you having to take us first!" he cried.

"He would, but I have other reasons why it would be profitable for me to have you as my prisoners." Dr. Loveless looked from him to Coley to Lafe, still entirely and eerily calm. "Well? Which shall it be?"

Coley clenched his teeth. They were not outnumbered, but the guns were pointed right at them. Still, he didn't trust anything this madman could say or do. "We'll take you on anyway," he said coldly.

"Oh, that's the wrong decision, Mr. Rodman," Dr. Loveless said, wagging a finger at him.

Two security guards lunged from each side, aiming to take down the thugs. The cruel men turned, firing at the same time as the guards. As Coley and Lafe rushed in as well, another man fired, catching Lafe on the side of the head. He staggered back, dazed.

Coley caught him, sickened. "Lafe!"

"I'm okay," Lafe mumbled. "It just grazed me as it went past." But he grimaced, bringing a hand up to gingerly touch the scratch.

Coley looked to Dr. Loveless, his eyes dark and dangerous. "You're going to regret this," he vowed.

"Perhaps," Dr. Loveless replied, "but I'm not worried. These men are professional pirates. And they're every bit as ruthless and wicked as the pirates from the 18th Century. Don't test them further, Mr. Rodman."

Ray stepped forward, his stomach twisting. "Even if we go with you, what guarantees do we have that we'll eventually be set free?"

Dr. Loveless's expression darkened. "I am not a liar, Mr. Norman! And surely Mr. West has told you that, as well."

"He said you have a twisted kind of honor," Coley said. "But I don't believe it. Anyone who comes up with the kinds of plots you do, to kill off most of the human race, can't really have any honor deep down."

"Ohhh! You're wrong, you're wrong, you're wrong!" Dr. Loveless shrilled.

Trying to get his temper under control, he drew a shaking breath. "You'll find out the truth, Mr. Rodman," he declared now, his voice lowering in a deadly manner. "You don't have any choice but to come with me. The next time one of these men attacks, it won't just be to injure. It will be to kill."

Coley looked to Lafe, who was dizzily holding a cloth to the side of his head. He looked to the pirates. He recognized the look in their eyes—the look of murder.

". . . Alright," he said. "We'll go with you."

Maybe they could find a way to mutiny in the air. And on the ground, he knew the guards would contact the authorities and try everything they could to get this madness stopped.

Dr. Loveless smiled. "Excellent. Then come aboard, please."

The airship lowered the rest of the way. As the hatch opened, Coley, Ray, and Lafe walked slowly towards it, up the stairs, and inside. The enemy guns remained on all sides throughout their journey, making certain no one stepped out of line. Satisfied, Dr. Loveless followed behind. But he was not the last one aboard.

Stubborn and determined, Jane chased the men onto the stairs and inside the structure. They were in danger and she was not going to leave them. Mrs. Featherstone would understand.