The island was not supposed to be there.

Tesla Mae squinted at her charts, checked her compass, double-checked her course, and looked once more out the front window of her airship's gondola. Ahead, just a green smudge on the blinding blue horizon, was an island where nothing but open water should have been. She could even smell it, for Pete's sake; her canine nose picked up the scent of trees and maybe a hint of smoke amid the endless salt.

She went back to her maps, muttering softly. She often talked to herself on these long voyages, mainly by way of the fact that there wasn't anyone else on board to talk to. She'd tried various crewmates and navigators, but all of them had rubbed her the wrong way or spent too much time in the speakeasies or had just been plain fools, so she'd figured she was better off by herself.

Her mother had been horrified at the thought of her gallivanting all over creation alone-which, to her mind, meant "unchaperoned"--whether you were flying over open water or just going to a movie house. Unladylike, regardless of the danger. Her mother was quite proud of her purebred English foxhound heritage, though when she'd married a man with a little Irish setter in the line and a whole lot of other things besides, her only child wound up a floppy-eared, molasses-colored mutt. Not that her mother would ever use such a word. "Even a mixed-breed," she always reminded Tess, "can be a lady."

But her father had understood, as he always did. It was the Professor, as she called him, who'd named her after his favorite inventor, though her mother had insisted on the "Mae." He'd simply installed the latest radio system, made her promise to write as often as she could when out of range, and helped her secure provisions before every voyage. She wished he could have come with her, but even if he'd been able to leave her mother, one didn't walk away from one of the most prestigious universities in the country to go ... well, gallivanting around.

This particular trip was her longest yet, and she'd planned it very carefully, down to the last mile, the last ounce of fuel, and the last cracker and bologna sausage. It was her first trip that involved being out of sight of land for the majority of the voyage, and out of radio contact for a good portion. And no one--man or woman, she thought with satisfaction--had made it solo before.

At least, not yet.

Well. She'd keep to her course, chart the island's location, and maybe stop by another time.

Still... She gazed at the horizon and swallowed a longing whine. That island nagged at her like a flea biting the back of her neck. Probably it was nothing. A spit of sand, a dozen palms, nothing to see anyway, nothing worth the trouble...

A slight detour. A day, maybe. She could slice that bologna a bit thinner. She hadn't even touched the canned ham. And she always figured in extra fuel.

"Tessie-girl," she said with a sigh, "what are we going to do with you?" She remembered the Professor's teasing. "You must be half cat."

Tess shook her head, picked up her pencil, and charted a new course. The wind had picked up--at her tail, thank goodness--so there was some fuel saved right there.

The floor lurched sideways. Tess grabbed for the little table, since it was bolted down. Her pencil clattered to the floor and rolled; she snatched it up and stuffed it in the pocket of her overalls. Then she was on her feet, running back to the engine, checking the gauges. The needles were all fine. She scratched behind one ear.

The ship swung and tilted again, and Tess said a few words her mother would never have approved of a lady using. The horizon in the front window was a diagonal line, and the line was moving farther and farther up.

Losing altitude. Tess kicked the engine into full, thankful it was still responding. With enough speed and a little luck, that island that wasn't supposed to be there would keep her out of the water. She dropped ballast and coaxed every last bit of speed from the engine, watching the narrow beach draw closer. Thank goodness, it was more than a spit of sand and a few palm trees; the center of the island looked thickly forested, and beyond that, a misty gray peak rose out of the green.

A volcano! "Boy, Professor, I wish you could see this." Geology fascinated him, along with biology, astronomy, and just about everything else. Once they'd made their own volcano with baking soda and vinegar and plaster of paris--and ruined Mother's curtains in the process.

Another jolt started Tess out of her reverie. The treetops were coming up fast, but there was a clear area just ahead. She forced the nose down, hoping she had enough time. There was a wrenching, metallic sound-an impact that slammed her against something--and then everything was still.

She got to her feet. No ground crew here to tie her down, so she'd have to do her best, though her legs were shaking as she hauled out the ropes and climbed down the collapsible steps. The keel looked pretty bad, but thank goodness, the envelope hadn't torn. If she lost gas, she'd never get back up, and she couldn't call for help from here. The thought of that made her even shakier, and she had to sit down on the steps for a few minutes until she felt steady again. "If I'm half cat," she said at last, "I just spent another life to check this place out."

She had to go pretty far into the trees to find ones that seemed sturdy enough to secure the Artemis against the winds. She had just finished tying the last rope and was adding another knot for safety's sake when something rustled near her.

Tess eyed the quivering vegetation. She had a lovely Colt revolver with a mother-of-pearl grip ... which, of course, was sitting safely in its box back on board.

"A stupid cat," she added under her breath.

A creature burst out of the underbrush. Tess dropped into a crouch, ready to run.

It was a lizard, or something like one, standing on two legs, its yellow scales with varying shades of green. It had small forearms and a pointed snout, and a few tiny feathers of green and yellow framed its face. When it saw her, it made a sound somewhere between a chirp and a yelp, scuttled backwards so fast it fell onto its back, and scrambled to hide behind a fern leaf, peeping out at her from a safe distance.

"Hey there." Tess relaxed a bit. "Not gonna hurt you. Just visiting. Not exactly the way I planned, but that's life, huh?"

It watched her, cocking its head and blinking big yellow eyes with slitted pupils. Then the leaves rustled again, and two others joined it, one the same size, the other a little bigger. The bigger one squawked something at the first, and the three of them looked to be holding something of a conversation. One bobbed its head vigorously; another gestured with its tiny claws.

Tess watched, amazed. "You really are talking, aren't you," she whispered.

The three fell suddenly silent. At first Tess thought they were staring at her, but then she realized they were staring behind her.

She turned slowly.

There were four of them, bigger ones, and she realized the others had been juveniles, maybe even just hatchlings. They stood a good foot taller than she did, not counting the bright feathers that rippled up from their glossy green scales. Some wore jewelry, necklaces or bracelets of dark, glossy wood. One had a collar of feathers that didn't match the ones on its body. They were all carrying spears, and a few had things that looked like bows. She wasn't sure why they even needed the weapons, with the giant claws they had on their second toes. All of them had the same knowing yellow eyes as the youngsters--and all of them were fixed on her.

The three juveniles raced over to the adults, leaping around one of them, who screeched the trio into quiet submission.

Tess swallowed. "Hello. Nice island you got here."

They watched her as she talked. Heads cocked one way, then the other. They exchanged glances and murmuring chirrups. One rumbled low in its chest.

Tess smiled so hard her cheeks burned. "So ... Let's just assume that I'm dead, then, so if it works out any other way, it'll be a nice surprise."

Then one of the saurians crashed through the underbrush, almost falling, as if it had been pushed from behind. It looked back over its shoulder and gave a faint, irritated-sounding growl, then turned to Tess.

"Greetings," it said. In English.

---

(c) 2014 Renee Carter Hall ("Poetigress"). May not be reprinted, reposted, or redistributed without permission. The full story appears in Pulp!, available from Rabbit Valley (www.rabbitvalley.com).