Okay...I'm going to break with my previous thought process regarding my own fan fiction material (admittedly, I haven't posted anything new in about two years or so...XD). I am going to post a preview of an upcoming new release! (Since that seems to be the thing to do lately.
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I figured on "striking while the iron's hot", as it were, and tantalizing everyone just a weeeeee bit more than I have already with the exposition of one of the new original characters from the upcoming story, which has so far been received quite enthusiastically: The Ghost of the Future (
/balto/en/chars/Ghost_of_the_Future/46561.html). Have a look at the character!
Meanwhile, what I am presenting here is definitely a bit of a spoiler, but I'm gonna take a chance. What you'll see here is the preface I have so far (which may change a bit as the story is written), along with the first third, perhaps, of the first chapter. The rest you'll just have to hang on for, as it is still being written! But it should be coming out very, very soon (another week or so, I think and hope, at most). I have shown this, so far, only to a few people, and then not even as much as you are all now seeing!
The title is also, so far, a "working title". It may change, and then again it may not. There will also be, at the tail end of this story, a glossary of the "big words" I've used throughout it, broken down by chapter.
I hope this spurs the interest ever onward for the eventual posting on Balto Source! Read and enjoy!
Reclamation
by JerseyCaptain
Preface: This story is a reimagining of two tales already well-known to most of the readers--that of the adventures seen in the first
Balto animated movie, and then that of famous nineteenth-century English writer Charles Dickens' classic Christmas social-consciousness story
A Christmas Carol. However, this is not a word-for-word re-telling of either story, nor is set back to a Christmas time frame (since the story in the
Balto movie is actually set in late January/early February, in keeping with the true historical story it is loosely based upon)...but rather a re-imagining in the same manner as the movie
O Brother Where Art Thou? is a re-imagining of Homer's epic poem
The Odyssey, using different (and, in the case of that particular movie, original) characters, settings and time period.
The story will be told in a similar style to that of Charles' Dickens' famous tale, but in a more modern vernacular, and without all the heavy Victorian embellishments which would probably confuse the average reader of this material. It will also be divided into chapters befitting a literary story, rather than "staves" as in the case of Dickens' story (staves being musical or poetic structures, a nod by Dickens' to the notion of his story being a "carol"). Also, please note that this is not a word-for-word rephrasing of the Dickens' story. Not by far. There will be differences in the narrative. It is only inspired by, and based upon, Dickens' story.
This material may not be reprinted or reposted electronically, in whole or part, without written permission of the author. All characters, except where otherwise noted (below), are the property of Universal Studios and Amblimation/Steven Spielberg. Charles Dickens' material, insofar as I know, is open source.
At the end of this story is a word glossary I've laid out, for those who may need help understanding some of what I am certain are the more complex or obscure English words in this story. It is broken down in alphabetical order by chapter. If you find a word you don't understand in a certain chapter, you can then go to the glossary, and to the specific section for the chapter you were reading, and look down the list alphabetically to find the word, it's type (noun, verb, adjective, adverb, conjunction, etc.) and its definition. I hope that helps (especially the non-native readers and speakers of English)!
CHAPTER 1: CHARGER'S GHOST
Charger was dead, and there was no doubt about that whatsoever. His musher had seen to it that he received a decent-enough burial...Charger being one of his cherished and valuable former lead dogs, after all. The other dogs of the team had witnessed it, and Steele himself, Charger's co-leader, had even deigned the whole process as interesting enough to him that he would put in a cursory appearance...albeit as aloof and apparently disinterested as he could possibly demonstrate to the others. He did, after all, have what he viewed as a "reputation" to uphold.
Steele certainly was a strong, swift leader of his master's team. No one could argue that fact. Alongside his co-leader, who had been noticeably older than he, Steele had led the team to many victories in the races in and around Nome...even if those victories were not always achieved without a certain degree of fraudulence. Which, I can say--without overmuch exaggeration, occurred more often than not. And yet somehow, and rather conveniently for Steele and his cohort, this always seemed to occur out of sight of those who came to watch and wait on the outcome of each race.
The members of the team were, in fact, the only witnesses to Charger's burial. While the human and, most especially, the canine residents of Nome (and the surrounding countryside) thought quite highly of Charger and Steele, and looked upon them as celebrities (of a sort), the dogs--at least--often gave both a rather wide berth. Neither Charger nor Steele were particularly known as gentle, affable and self-effacing dogs. Rather the reverse: they were proud, arrogant, self-important, and churlish brutes. Everyone knew it.
They knew it. And they did not care. Not one whit. In fact, it may be said that they reveled in the feeling of power and entitlement such displays of deference gave the two of them.
Steele, being the younger of the two, always seemed to catch the eyes of the lady dogs in spite of his nature. He was a big, muscular dog, and bore that stature all too well. To a fault, in fact. Charger carried a similar build in his heyday, but the ravages of time had eventually started to tell on him, and he had begun to see less and less activity on the team. One might think this would concern his co-leader. Oh no...not Steele. To be perfectly honest, Steele couldn't be less troubled by the situation. He was all too eager to make the team his own. And, in spite of the friendship he and Charger shared (they were, in fact, each others' only real friends), Steele couldn't possibly appear less moved by Charger's gradual decline, and sudden retirement, all but a year before his passing. And when the time came, if he was moved in the least, Steele didn't let slip so much as a murmur of emotion. Cold as ice...and as hard as his namesake. That, and less, was Steele.
Steele knew Charger was dead? Certainly he did. How could he not? While Steele might have shrugged off the loss of a lesser team member as just
"the normal course of events in dog sledding", Charger was still his co-leader (and senior) and, as I have already mentioned, his only real friend in the world...as if either of them could ever even acknowledge such a relationship openly (which, it must be keenly emphasized, they certainly
never did).
Oh! but Steele was a strict and unforgiving leader on the run! A pushy, demanding, bullying, hard-nosed ol' brute! How well his name fit his demeanor--stiff and unbending, slick and often sharp. No harsh, biting Alaskan cold caused his steps to falter, no williwaw checked his pace when he set into it. No matter if the dogs behind him on the gang line might stumble or even balk, he pressed on all the same. Steele did not lead by example...he simply led. Whether or not anyone had difficulty following was of little consequence to him, unless he was in a quarrelsome mood. And that only happened when one of the dogs dared to differ with him...which they seldom ever did.
Once upon a time, some years hence--in the freezing, bitter cold of the Alaskan midwinter--Steele reclined on a sofa in his master's home, staring indifferently out a nearby window at the kennel yard. There were many small dog houses, enclosed by a tall fence and, before each little house, a husky lay shivering and curled up with its tail laid over its muzzle for warmth as the bitter wind played persistently at their fur. But what did Steele care? He was inside, where a nice fire was blazing in the hearth. To his way of thinking, this was precisely where he deserved to be...the place of privilege that any leader ought to be able to enjoy. And if Steele enjoyed anything, it could be said that he most definitely enjoyed the perks of his position...especially when the other dogs didn't share in those perks. As far as he was concerned, they hadn't earned them either by station or merit.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door of the house, and a cacophony of barking from the yard in response. Steele's master, who was also his musher, went to answer it, greeting two gentlemen in overcoats and bowlers, and another fellow dressed more ruggedly. After removing their coats and hanging them on pegs in the hall, they adjourned to the drawing room where Steele reclined, now watching them with some interest.
The master approached the couch and began to motion to Steele. "Off the couch, boy. Come on." Letting out a long, loud and frustrated groan, Steele slowly rose, stretched and, stepping down onto the floor, walked over to a corner of the room, where he laid back down, glancing at his master disapprovingly. The men all sat down on various chairs in the room, and began a discussion which Steele listened in on.
"We've come on rather pressing business, Dan," one of the men began. This fellow seemed to Steele to be of high station...he wore a fine suit. From the vest underneath hung a gold watch chain with an intricately-carved ivory fob. He alternately chewed and puffed on a cigar protruding from his mouth and from underneath a full, bushy brown moustache. The smoke was pungent and rather obtrusive, and it annoyed Steele greatly. "There's trouble in town", the man continued. "Dr. Welch has notified us of a diphtheria outbreak. We've got six cases so far. It started with a young boy."
Steele's master stroked his beard for a moment, and then shook his head sympathetically. "Well Dr. Welch's staff may be small, but they ought to be able to handle this now that he's identified it, shouldn't they?"
The gentleman shook his head. "Not likely. It appears his supply of anti-toxin is nearly exhausted, and may well have expired beyond it's efficacy. We are going to need to procure a supply, and quickly."
The master sat back and crossed his legs, laying his arms across the back of the couch. The barking out in the yard had finally subsided, and he sighed. "What are your intentions?" Has the mayor consulted with Dr. Welch about this?"
At the master's question, the second gentleman responded. "Yes he has. There has already been one death, and a growing concern that this will escalate..."
Steele's ears pricked up at hearing this. But with a quick roll of his eyes, thought to himself "Tsk. I don't see what the fuss is about anyway. The population of this town has been steadily falling since the influenza epidemic of '18. But Nome's still here. If this town loses one or two more, it makes little difference". He settled back into listening to the discussion.
The gentleman continued. "We've sent messages out by telegraph, but it would appear our options for securing a resupply of anti-toxin are severely limited by the prevailing weather. The newspaper men want us to put our faith in the airplane, saying it would be the fastest and safest mode of transport for the medicine. However, the territorial governor and several people of influence disagree with that assessment."
"As do I", the third man broke in. Like the master, this fellow was a musher. "I will still hedge my bets with the dogs. The mail teams have never failed us in the past. You, Dan, are our best man for the job. You have the fastest, most experienced team in the region, and that's why we came to you. The mayor specifically asked us to do so."
Steele's master raised an eyebrow in surprise. "
Did he now?"
"Yes", the second gentleman replied. "A supply of the anti-toxin has been found at the railroad hospital down in Anchorage, and they're shipping it up to Nenana by rail. But it falls to us to send someone out there to pick it up and carry it back to Nome as quickly as possible."
The master paused for a moment to consider the implications of the revelation, and then stood up, crossed his hands behind his back, and strode slowly over to the mantle. Laying one arm across it and, with the other, grabbing a poker to stoke the fire, he asked "So...what's our play then?"
The first gentleman stood up and started to slowly pace about the perimeter of the room, still puffing on his cigar and seemingly absorbed in thought, his head lowered in concentration. Steele raised his head and observed the man closely as he went. He passed around the furniture and passed by the windows. When he reached Steele's master, he stopped, glanced up at the master, and replied "We were hoping you might have some suggestions to that effect."
As Steele turned his attention to his master, the man scratched at his beard, seemingly lost in thought. "Hmmmm." There was a momentary pause. Then he raised his right hand and, pointing and wagging his finger indistinctly in the air in front of him, said "You know, we
could hold a small race through the town streets...invite the mushers in town to put in their best dogs. From that, we could determine the fastest among them, and put together a special team for this run."
More to come when the fiction is posted to my gallery! Keep watching, and thanks for your patience! 
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