Agatha H and the Siege of Mechanicsburg

by Phil Foglio

  The tabletop was almost thirty meters square. The mapmakers had lovingly recreated the Valley of the Heterodynes. Girt by its famous mountains, the town itself huddled within its walls in exquisite detail. It was surrounded by painstakingly reproduced defenses that had (thankfully) been deactivated decades ago, but still remained a part of the landscape and thus had to be taken into consideration when planning ground operations.

  Sprinkled throughout the valley, with more crowding the loading tables off to the side, were representations of the empire forces that were being deployed. Boris frowned. In his opinion, there were too many. The Baron was devoting an excessive amount of men and material to this.

  Overhead, he heard the hiss of pneumatic servos. Kleegon the Battlemaster glided down in his powered observer pulpit to hover beside him.

  Kleegon was a construct who had helped free himself from the Count of the Iron Ski69 and risen quickly within the empire’s command structure. His brain had been augmented so much that it now had to be contained within a glass dome; his eyes had been replaced with a single ruby orb that never blinked. “As usual, our forces are in red. Despite the fact we have had to restrict ourselves to ground troops, we have almost finished containing Mechanicsburg.” He glided over to one of the maps showing the surrounding area and indicated a main road. “However, we have several outside forces approaching. Their stated goals are irrelevant, as their actual purpose is, in many cases, painfully obvious.

  “The first is a loose coalition of the old Smatterburg Duchies, led by the Philosopher King of the University of Aalborg. He believes the Baron and the Heterodyne will destroy each other and is determined to pick up the pieces. Not a unique situation by any means, but I mention him because of his primacy, and because he has managed to put about two thousand men and four medium airships into the field. They’re moving slowly as there has been a bit of rain east of the Duchies and they are encumbered with two shock cannons they are hauling overland, which they refuse to abandon.

  “Then there are the forces loyal to the House of Valois—”

  Boris interrupted. “You mean the walkers? Master Gilgamesh destroyed them.”

  Kleegon sighed and gave a Gallic shrug. “Ah, but this is a different group. Mostly cavalry, some foot soldiers, and a unit of Drakken horses.70 Mostly the dregs of the Fifty Families. They seem caught up with the whole idea of pillaging, which is why they are still over a hundred kilometers away.

  “The last group seems to be a genuine popular uprising, but they are suspiciously well-supplied on such short notice. They claim to be marching to Mechanicsburg to defend the Heterodyne girl, though the plan seems to be to keep her captive until their own Storm King arrives to take over.”

  Boris bit his lip. “Their own . . . ? Not the same Storm King as the other groups?”

  Kleegon shook his head. “There are at least three claimants being hailed by assorted groups. I’m sure more will emerge as time goes on.”

  “They already have.” Captain Smoza stepped up and consulted the report in her hand. “The majority of our forces not here or at Sturmhalten are reporting waves of rebellions, mutinies, and outbreaks.” She looked up, a hurt look on her face. “It’s as if the whole empire was just waiting for a reason to revolt.”

  Boris looked like someone had struck him. “I . . . I didn’t think it was this bad . . . ”

  “It isn’t!” Kleegon delivered this judgment in a ringing tone. “These may be genuine rebellions, but the incidents causing them have clearly been exaggerated and overblown. Those involved have been manipulated into erupting simultaneously. The purpose is clear: weaken the perception of the empire’s strength, and so convince the populace it needs a new strong, central leader. If the Baron does not re-establish himself as that leader, I calculate a seventy-eight percent chance the empire will suffer an outright collapse before one of these pretenders can establish sufficient control.”

  Smoza considered this and voiced what everyone in the room was thinking: “This doesn’t sound like a very well thought out plan.”

  “IT IS MADNESS!” The speaker was a huge man with a magnificent mane of bright orange hair. A pair of thick cables ran from just above his ears to a stout staff that supported a brass skull encrusted with tubes and lights: Herr Doktor Eeliocentric Chouté.71 “THE JACKALS GATHER WHILE THE WOLF LIES WOUNDED!”

  Boris felt mixed emotions. Chouté’s bluster was an affront to his tidy sense of propriety, and yet, when he was around, all other problems seemed to retreat in importance. “Thank you for our requisite daily dose of high drama, Herr Doktor, but I am told that the Baron will be back in the morning.”

  This was news to everyone. “BUT AFTER HIS DISASTROUSLY QUIXOTIC BATTLE WITH DOCTOR SUN, HE STILL LIES INSENSATE WITHIN THE FULL BODY HEALING ENGINE, YES?”

  “Well, he was placed there,” Boris conceded. “But as soon as he deemed himself sufficiently healed, he forcibly removed himself. I thought Sun was going to kill him. Eventually he was made to see reason by Sun and the Princess Anevka, of all people.”

  Smoza looked blank for a moment, then brightened. “Anevka. That’s the clank that thinks it’s the Sturmvoraus Princess, yes?”

  “AN ABOMINATION THAT CURDLES THE MILK OF ALL HONEST MEN!”

  Boris shrugged. “Well, aren’t we all?”

  “OH, I SAY, SIR!”

  “But she’s strong, she can’t be wasped, she doesn’t need sleep, and he listens to her. That’s an abomination we can use.”

  Suddenly Castle Wulfenbach rocked, causing everyone to stagger slightly.

  “What was that?” Smoza gasped. The jolt had knocked her hat off, revealing a small furry green creature nestled in the tidy nest of her hair. “That was not good,” it grumbled, shielding its eyes from the light.

  Boris handed Smoza her hat. “We’re under attack, of course. I was afraid of this.”

  “UNDER ATTACK? SHEER PERFIDY! WHO WOULD DARE?”

  Boris shrugged. “Only every spark within five hundred kilometers. What I want to know is how?” He strode over to a large circular window. “I’ve had all our defenses armed and ready for—”

  With a THUMP, an enormous ape with brightly colored wings slammed into the glass, stared at the startled people inside, and screamed defiance before dropping off.

  “Was that a flying monkey?” Smoza asked. The creature in her hair shivered. “Giant monkey,” it whispered. Smoza reached up and stroked it comfortingly. “I always thought they were smaller than that.” She agreed.

  Boris and Chouté glanced at each other and nodded. “Professor Senear.72 I thought he’d been awfully quiet lately.”

  Smoza gently settled her hat on her head. “So which army is he associated with?”

  “Boris snorted. “None of them. This man is a spark! A blasted, lunatic, scheming, unpredictable spark! They’ve been chafing under the Baron’s heel even worse than the governments! Now that they know that he’s incapacitated—”

  A unicycle messenger careened into the room. When he saw Boris, he waved his hands frantically. “Sir! Mechanicsburg is under attack and not by us! Spotters report unknown clanks, airships, and artillery strikes!” He skidded to a halt before Boris, panting. “Sir, the Great Hospital has taken a direct hit!”

  Boris’s face went white. “The Baron!”

  The hospital room shuddered and, alarmingly, began to list to one side like the deck of a ship at sea. The clank that was now Lucrezia leapt up and dashed towards the door just as it burst open. A squad of Wulfenbach troops and doctors poured in. “We’re under attack,” the chief doctor shouted. “The Baron must be moved to safety immediately!”

  Lucrezia paused. Klaus would no doubt be moved to the safest location possible. She pirouetted smoothly on one perfect mechanical foot and began to give orders. “That entire bank of monitors can be disconnected,” she said, “as well as these emergency pumps. The Baron is in no danger of needing them.”

  The doctor opened his mouth, then glanced at the elaborate setup
around the patient. To his surprise, the clank’s suggestions were all sound and would make moving the Baron significantly easier.

  “You heard the lady,” he declared. “Get moving!”

  Lucrezia smiled graciously. “Princess, actually.”

  Back in Castle Heterodyne, Agatha slapped a final solenoid into place. A row of switches flexed like a prisoner who, after breaking free of his restraints, takes a deep, unfettered breath. “Yesss,” the Castle sighed. “I am once again in full control of this section. Well done, Mistress.” It paused. “I remember . . . Oh dear. I am sorry about that unfortunate incident in the kitchen.”

  Agatha was encouraged. The Castle was beginning to stitch together memories and control functions from more and more of its far-flung sections. “Glad to hear it,” Agatha said. “Did that fire do much damage?”

  “Oh. Yes. Let me see. Ah . . . ” There was a roaring sound from the next room, an electric snap, and a great whoosh as the fires once again ignited. “It is supposed to be like that. Part of my heating system, you know.”

  Gil glanced at Tarvek. “Told you so.”

  Tarvek grit his teeth. “You were guessing.”

  Agatha stared back into the blue-flamed inferno. “All of that,” she asked incredulously, “just to heat this place?”

  “It is a vent of coalbed methane your ancestors harnessed. And a good thing too. I’m told some of the towers get a bit chilly in deep winter, even with all this.”

  Agatha made a face. “Well, thank you for the lovely surprise shower, then. And . . . my ancestors . . . did they ever build anything small?”

  The Castle considered this. “The master’s bed only sleeps six . . . ”

  Agatha nodded wearily. “Sorry I asked.”

  Soon, the group was resting in a suite of maintenance halls near the furnace room. Agatha examined a wall of pipes and gauges while debating with the Castle as to which of several new problem spots was closer. Violetta disappeared into the adjoining rooms on some mission of her own. Tarvek sat with his back to a stone wall, head resting on one cupped hand, feeling miserable. Gil stood by watching Agatha pace, then looked down at Tarvek. “What’s with you?”

  “Shut up. I am unhappy and I wish to brood in peace.”

  Gil nodded. “Oh, I know what’s bugging you.”

  Tarvek focused his glare on Gil. “Really?”

  Gil nodded. “Sure. Because Agatha is involved, it’s finally hitting you that—just maybe—using the Other’s tech to control other people might be considered—oh, I don’t know—kind of wrong?”

  Tarvek sighed. “No, not that.” He seemed to consider what Gil had just said and waved a hand vaguely. “Look, just leave me alone, okay?”

  Gil crossed his arms. “No, I get it. It must be tough realizing that you’re a slimy toad who failed ‘Ethics in Government 101.’ ”73

  Tarvek glared at Gil. “Well, I never got to finish that class, now did I? Why, I didn’t get to finish any of them, I recall, as I was thrown off your high-and-mighty airship.” Gil bit his lip as Tarvek continued. “I had to get my lessons by surviving amongst a bunch of evil-minded, cynical, backstabbing old fools, who, I might add, were still smart enough to hide an entire army from the great Baron Wulfenbach. Who, I will delicately point out, took over Europa by force and used guns and worse to control people—so how are you any better?” Tarvek held up a hand. “But, you know—even at a distance—I learned a lot from your father. If someone can’t handle an unpleasant truth? Lie to them. If someone won’t listen to reason? Show them the unhappy alternative. If people don’t choose to live peaceably? Don’t give them a choice. If you don’t like the rules—”

  “What is this?” Violetta had returned, a crate of supplies resting on her shoulder. “I leave to get you guys something to eat and you light the place back on fire?” She glared at Tarvek. “This is somehow your fault, isn’t it!”

  “NO!” Tarvek said, even as Violetta sent a quick punch towards his stomach. However, even as Gil winced in sympathy, Violetta let out a squeal of surprise and clutched her fist in pain.

  Tarvek turned to Gil, smirking. “As I was saying, if you don’t like the rules—” He hoisted up his shirt to reveal a slightly dented steel plate tucked into his belt. “Change the game.”

  He then turned to Violetta and drew himself up. “I’m sorry, Violetta, but as my days of needing the family to underestimate me appear to be over, I will no longer require your assistance in that particular charade.”

  Violetta stared up at him. “You . . . you’re implying that all this time, you’ve been letting me beat on you?”

  Tarvek nodded gently. “You’ll just have to find someone else to vent your frustrations out on. Maybe that von Zinzer fellow.”

  Violetta’s face went scarlet. “Shut up!” she lashed out. “There’s no way I’ll ever believe you’re anything but a worthless fool!”

  However, when her blow landed, Tarvek was no longer there. Violetta felt a gentle slap to the back of her head. “Well, yes,” Tarvek said in a cool voice from behind her, “that was the idea, now wasn’t it?”

  Violetta spun and prepared to strike. Tarvek stood there, watching her. He looked completely open. Violetta paused and slowly lowered her hands. One of Tarvek’s eyebrows quirked upwards in approval, which just made Violetta angrier. “You and your stupid games,” she hissed between clenched teeth.

  Tarvek shrugged. “Those ‘stupid games,’ dear cousin, are what kept both of us alive. But enough of that.” He turned to face Gil. “I’m starting to think someone else here is playing his own game.” He studied Gil for a moment. “You’re really smart. I know this, but sometimes you act . . . so shallow. You got all that information out of me just now, by simply mooning about like a drunken poet. I should’ve noticed it earlier, but between finding out who you really are, and the echoes of the you I can still feel from the si vales valeo . . . well, I’m beginning to realize you might be just as much of a manipulative, sneaky weasel as I am.” He considered Gil’s stony countenance. “Well, maybe not as much as I am myself, but I’ll put that down to a lack of inclination, as I’m sure you had reasons similar to my own. I’m all right with that. You’re of more use if you’re smart.” He took a deep breath and suddenly was within a centimeter of Gil’s face. “But if I find out you’re lying about being here to help Agatha, then we shall have to see if you’re as deadly as I am.”

  Gil stared at him and then nodded once.

  Violetta had not just brought food. She had also found more tools and a stout leather work apron-and-tool-belt combination, which she was busy helping Agatha into. Agatha was busy examining the new tools, choosing the most useful and tucking them here and there within easy reach. As she worked, she watched the two men across the room thoughtfully. “You say Tarvek’s been playing the fool?” she asked Violetta. “I can’t really say I’ve seen it.”

  Violetta wasn’t impressed. “Huh. Well, not around you, so much.”

  Agatha nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, but around his family? I can understand that.”

  “Yeah, but now we know we can’t believe what either of them are really up to. I mean, what about Wulfenbach? If he’s so much smarter than he lets on, then what is he really in here for?”

  Agatha gazed at Gil and sighed. “I have to assume it’s what he says. But since he’s the one who has been playing the idiot around me, I can’t be sure.”

  The science of acoustics is a funny thing. A conversation flowing in one direction can be indistinct, but words flowing in the other direction can bounce off surfaces that deliver it crisp and clear to those nearby. Which is why, although Agatha and Violetta could not hear Gil and Tarvek’s discussion, those two heard Agatha’s statement loud and clear, as indicated by the slow reddening of Gil’s face. Tarvek stared at him and a grin of understanding bubbled up across his face. “You weren’t actually playing the idiot with her, were you?”

  “Shut up!” Gil muttered. “I am here to help her—but it’s like I do
everything I can to make myself look bad around her!” He gave Tarvek a shrug. “I must have inherited my father’s natural ability to infuriate women.”

  He then poked Tarvek with a finger. “But you—all that stuff you told me about your work with Lucrezia? I wasn’t actually fishing for information—you spilled that all by yourself. From what I hear, you don’t make mistakes like that. Maybe you’re not at your best at the moment either. Has that occurred to you?”

  Tarvek bit his lip and looked away. Gil nodded. “Still, you are right. I do play games. I’m good at them. Definitely better than you . . . if only because I don’t go on about them to my enemies.” He grinned. “And you know what? I am Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. Heir to the Empire and Defender of the Pax Transylvania. I will crush this whole Knights of Jove/Storm King mess of yours.” He leaned in. “Don’t worry—I’ll let you escape so you can go skulking around with your perfect little plans. After all, I’ll always need someone to take the blame.”

  At that moment, Agatha strode up, map in hand. “You guys ready?”

  Gil nodded. “Oh, I’m ready.” He looked at Tarvek and smiled. “Are you ready?”

  Tarvek smiled back. “I am so ready.”

  At Mamma Gkika’s Bar, Baron Krasimir Oublenmach spat out a small mouthful of blood and whispered, “Ladies are delicate creatures who should never be struck or awakened too early in the morning.” Then he paused and thought as hard as he could. This next part. It was very important. “Ninety-nine.”

  The hand around his throat flexed slightly, and Oublenmach continued. “Ladies are delicate creatures who should never be struck or awakened too early in the morning.” He licked his lips. “One hundred.”

  At the other end of the monstrous arm pinning him to the wall, the face of Mamma Gkika broke into a sharp-toothed grin. “See? Dot vos not so hard.”

  She then turned to Arella von Mekkhan, who was seated in a comfortable chair with a cup of tea in her hand. She had several bandages artistically arranged on her face. “Okay, sveetie, hyu vants hy should keel heem now?”