by Phil Foglio
Eventually, after a bewildering maze of such passages, and several sets of metal stairs, they found themselves in front of a massive steel blast door. Ardsley broke the silence. “We have arrived, Miss.” With that he discretely knocked twice, spun the large metal wheel in the center of the door, pushed, and it slowly swung inwards.
They entered atop a metal catwalk that surrounded a large open workshop. Agatha’s practiced eye saw an impressive array of lathes, mills, disintegrators, presses and shapers. An efficient-looking forge took up one wall, and tables and benches were covered with racks of tools, vats of chemicals, piles of humming, crackling electrical devices, or often some intriguing combination of all three. Clouds of steam arose from several large boilers, and the smell of machine oil and ozone filled the air. Overhead, a bank of arc lamps lit the scene with a harsh blue light.
In the center of the room was a large sunken bay, which was filled with a sleek green machine. To Agatha it appeared to be some sort of motorized carriage, although the aerodynamic effect was spoiled by some sort of large, multi-layer fender attached to each side. Bent over a large motor located amidships was Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, clad in a blue work shirt and a leather work apron. Agatha’s eye was caught by a sudden movement. From under the machine came a bizarre little creature. She couldn’t really tell what it was, as it was concealed within a large greatcoat several sizes too large, and an enormous felt hat. The only clues as to its species were the bright blue claws that extended from the sleeves as it dragged a large mallet along the ground, and a pair of long, blue, articulated antenna that poked out through two holes that had been cut into its hat. It moved with a manic energy that belied its diminutive size.
Wooster coughed. “Miss Agatha Clay, sir.”
Both the man and the creature looked upwards. Agatha noticed that the creature possessed but a single eye.
Young Wulfenbach smiled and tossed the wrench he was holding into a bin resting on the cowl of the machine. “Ah, Miss Clay. Glad to see you on your feet.” He waved his hand towards one of the benches on the side of the room. “If you would be so kind as to bring me a left-leaning Lurning wrench on your way over? Wooster? You may go.”
The butler paused slightly, but bowed and silently backed out of the room, shutting the great door as he did so. Gil turned to the creature who continued to stare at Agatha. “Zoing? Bring Miss Clay some tea, please.” The creature dropped the mallet and scuttled off to another bench while making high-pitched squealing noises. Gilgamesh turned back to his engine.
After several seconds, Agatha swallowed and climbed down the metal ladder and went to the indicated bench. Seeing the young man had sent a peculiar feeling through her, one she attributed to her conviction that he was responsible for Dr. Beetle’s death. She reflected upon this while searching through the tools. To her immense surprise, she saw the goldfish that had been kept by Dr. Beetle. For some reason this upset her more than ever, and by the time she had located the correct wrench and climbed down into the work pit, she was building up to a fine temper. There was a small step-ladder leaning against the machine, and Agatha climbed up to the cockpit with a murderous gleam in her eye.
Gilgamesh was now elbow deep in the motor cavity, and with a grunt of satisfaction, pulled out a small hairy mimmoth. These pests, the result of some unknown madboy’s tampering, had infested most of the known world, and frequently fouled machinery. It honked at him. He spoke without looking at her. “I hope you found your quarters comfortable, I—”
A wrench was thrust into his face with a commanding “Here.”
Startled, he turned and saw a sullen Agatha regarding him, the wrench in one hand, the other hand upon her hip. A look of annoyance settled upon his face. He briskly tossed the mimmoth into a container and stripped off his work gloves. “Right. So much for small talk. Let us have this out right now. Sit down.”
“There’s nothing—”
Gil’s head swiveled towards her and he fixed her with an icy stare. “Sit. Down,” he commanded.
With a thump, Agatha found herself sitting upon a small bench seat.
Gil regarded her warily. For the first time, he seemed to notice her outfit. Agatha saw the direction of his gaze and squirmed in embarrassment. Her outfit creaked in protest.
Gil realized his mouth was open slightly and shut it with a snap, then shook his head and spoke calmly. “Miss Clay, I’m really sorry about Dr. Beetle. I know he was important to you, and I agree that his death was a complete waste, but—”
Agatha looked away and interrupted coldly, “But he threw a bomb at you. Yes, you’ve said.”
“NO!” Gil’s fist crashed down and a startled Agatha saw him staring at her intently. “I think he threw a bomb at you!”
After the first shock, Agatha felt herself getting angry. “Dr. Beetle loved me! He wouldn’t—”
Gil ignored her. “He wanted you out of that lab. In retrospect I can see that he was terrified of you being there. Why? What is it about you that could have gotten him in even more trouble with my father than his hiding a Hive Engine?”
“Nothing! There’s nothing about me!”
Gil leaned back and regarded her seriously. “Then what about your parents, the Clays?”
Agatha’s sudden start caused a tight smile of satisfaction to flash across his face. “Yes, that hit a nerve.”
Agatha rallied. “Wrong. My parents are simple, normal people.”
Gil nodded agreeably. “Did you know that you have been asleep for around thirty-six hours?”
Agatha felt off-balance at the change in conversation. “What does that have to do with—?”
“I can’t find these ‘simple, normal people’ of yours.”
A small smile curved Agatha’s lips. “Oh, really?”
Gil leaned forward. “And that doesn’t surprise you. It certainly surprises me. We had the town sealed and they still got out. How did they do that? More important, why did they do that? At the very least, one would think that they would inquire about you, their only daughter, but they never even returned to their home. Should we be worried about them?”
Agatha bit her lip. These were legitimate questions. The idea that Adam and Lilith could actually be in a situation where they needed assistance was a foreign one, but there was always the possibility. “I don’t know.”
Gil studied her for a moment longer and nodded. “I see.” He smiled. “Now let’s talk about Herr von Zinzer.”
Agatha looked blankly at him. “Who?”
Gil’s smile widened. “Moloch von Zinzer?”
“I’m afraid I don’t—”
Gil continued, “The man you help build clanks with? While in your underwear? Your boyfriend? Your lover? The reason you’re here? Ring a bell?” he asked innocently.
Agatha flushed. “I never! He’s n—” Too late she caught Gil’s look of satisfaction. She quickly shifted mental gears. “He’s… nnnice!”
Gil looked at her askance. “Nice?”
Agatha nodded inanely, scarcely believing the drivel pouring out of her mouth. “That’s what I call him. Herr Nice. I don’t even think of him as… as…”
“Von Zinzer.”
“Von Zinzer. Yes.”
Gil raised an eyebrow. “Ah. Well then, you’ll both be happy to know that you’ll be assisting… Herr… Nice, with his next clank.”
“Oh. But… Good,” she finished weakly.
Gil smiled. “And I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that we have a very relaxed dress code in the labs.”
Agatha stiffened. “You know, as much as I’d miss Mowgli—”
“Moloch?”
“Herr Nice, I’d rather just go home and help look for my parents.”
Gil got serious. “I assure you, Miss Clay, we’re doing everything we can to find them. Unless you can think of somewhere in particular we should look?”
Reluctantly, Agatha shook her head. A sudden clink made her look around. A small blue claw appeared over the side of the machine, hold
ing a delicate delftware teacup. Agatha reached out and took it. The tea within smelled delicious. “Thank you,” she murmured.
The claw then grabbed onto a protruding grommet and Zoing hauled himself upwards. Up close, Agatha still couldn’t penetrate the gloom under the little creature’s hat. Feeling her eyes upon it, Zoing looked back briefly, then reached inside a wide sleeve and pulled out a sugar bowl, which it offered graciously. Agatha declined. Zoing shrugged, and deftly extracted several sugar cubes and popped them inside its coat. Satisfied crunching noises followed.
Gil’s voice brought her back to the conversation. “Anyway, I’m afraid my father won’t allow you to leave just yet, he considers you his guarantee to Herr von Zinzer’s good behavior.”
Agatha felt an uncharacteristic flare of temper. “You can’t just keep me here.”
Gil had the grace to look slightly embarrassed, but he shrugged. “We can actually. It’s not like you could walk out the front door, you know.”
“Why not?”
“We don’t have one.” His face brightened. “You don’t know where you are, do you?”
Agatha blinked. Gil grabbed a control box that was attached to a long cable that went up into the ceiling. He grinned and stabbed at a button. “Let me show you!”
Agatha heard a squeal of alarm from Zoing, and then with a great CLANG! the floor split into two massive panels that swung downward, and the machine they were sitting in dropped. A quick look over the side caused Agatha to think she’d gone mad, as the ground was easily several thousand meters under them. A few farms nestled beside a river, and a vast forest covered much of the land. “What have you done?” she screamed against the uprushing wind.
Gil was busily manipulating the controls of the machine. He grinned again. “Ha! Watch this!”
He threw a large switch, and the motor behind them coughed twice and then stopped. Silence surrounded them as they fell. Agatha crossed her arms. “Oh. It’s a Falling Machine. I’m so impressed.”
Gil looked annoyed. “Weird. It worked perfectly on paper…” Simultaneously the both of them swarmed over the engine.
“How’s it work?”
“Fuel here. Spark here. Main shaft. Boosters.”
“Interesting. Should this be loose?”
“Yes, it’s a balance arm.”
Agatha glared at him. “A balance arm? You’re wasting space in a flying machine with a balance arm?”
“Well… yes, you still need—”
Agatha pushed him aside and reached into the engine compartment. A quick wrench and the small device was flung out into space, where it hung in front of Gil’s face.
“And this!” Another part was ripped loose. “This is a heat pump! Superfluous!”
Gil eyed the slowly spinning device with regret. “Nicely designed though, eh?”
Agatha reached back, grabbed his shirt front and hauled him beside her. “Look—”she commanded. “With more room you can enlarge this flywheel and it will act as a balance! Add coolant lines here and here and then it will also act as a heat dump!”
The light dawned on Gil’s face. “I see! Then we can also get rid of these here if we add more vents!”
The two of them grinned in accord and began ripping various pieces of engine out and tossing the mover the side. A gleam came into Gil’s eye, and his voice began to match Agatha’s in intensity. “That’ll fix our heat problem and tighten up these linkages! I see! Yes! There’s a whole bunch of stuff we can get rid of!” He grabbed a large wrench. “Help me unbolt the engine!”
At this Agatha heard a strangled noise from behind, and felt an urgent tapping on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Zoing hanging upside down from the steering wheel. The small creature looked at her beseechingly and pointed over the side. A glance downward revealed the ground rushing upwards at an alarming rate. She in turn tapped Gil on the shoulder. “Um… of course, we are still falling.”
Gil looked at her blankly for a second. Then he rolled his eyes. “Oh, that.” He reached into the engine compartment. “This wire was loose. Let’s try it now.”
So saying, he turned to the controls, and threw a lever. Instantly the engine caught with a roar. The odd fenders unfolded with a snap to reveal themselves as a pair of large green wings, and with a massive jolt, the machine’s fall turned into a graceful dive that swung forward and the machine gently began to climb back up into the sky, barely clearing several of the taller treetops.
With a squeak, Zoing toppled forward onto the floor and twitched. Agatha decided not to disturb him. She looked around, but failed to see any buildings at all, let alone one tall enough to have fallen from.
“So,” she asked, “How did we get so high in the first place?”
Gil grinned. “We started higher. Look up.”
Agatha did so and gasped.
“We started from Castle Wulfenbach.”
And indeed, above them loomed the greatest symbol of the Baron’s authority. Castle Wulfenbach was a vast dirigible, almost a kilometer in length. The surface was encrusted with engines, viewpoints, and complex structures that would have dwarfed entire earthbound castles. Massive gun turrets bristled along its length. A row of windmills turned slowly along its keel. Perched atop its spine, minarets, domes and towers filled every square foot. Gardens were visible, as were the three great smokestacks venting steam.
Surrounding it on every side, above and below, was an armada of hundreds of smaller airships, although, Agatha realized with a shock, that several of these “smaller” ships were themselves dreadnoughts in the Baron’s fleet, made small only by the presence of the larger ship they escorted. Even at a glance one could see an order in the seeming chaos, as ships arrived and departed to and from the wide-spread empire.
The Baron had begun construction of the giant airship almost sixteen years ago, and had continually enlarged it until it had reached its current size. As his base of operations, it was unique as the only capital that was able to patrol its own empire. Onboard was the bureaucracy that allowed the Baron’s Empire to function, and many a local warlord had awoken to discover that the master’s crack teams of accountants and inspectors had landed in the night and were anxious to question him about irregularities in the books or that peculiar smell coming from the hidden laboratory. Its support crew numbered in the thousands, and rumor had it that vast numbers of them had not touched the earth in years. Many things were whispered about what went on aboard the gigantic airship, but surprisingly few townsfolk had been there. Sightings always caused the local population to pour out into the streets to stare until it had passed by. The panic started when it stopped overhead.
Agatha sat down as she stared upwards. She had traveled with Dr. Beetle several times on airships. They had been cramped, utilitarian vehicles. “I didn’t know… it didn’t feel like we were aboard a…”
“Really? I wouldn’t know. I grew up there.”
This brought Agatha back. “Oh yes. Sleipnir O’Hara said to say ‘Welcome back.’”
Gil’s face hardened. “Oh, she did, did she? Nice of her to remember me.”
Agatha was surprised at his reaction. “She seemed very fond of you, actually.”
“She has a funny way of showing it. I never heard from her, or any of the others once I left for Paris.” It was obvious despite his light tone, that this was something that bothered Gil quite a bit.
Agatha frowned. “Now wait a minute. She said that you never responded to any of their letters.”
“I never got any letters, and they never bothered to come see me when I returned.”
“Did you try to see them?”
“No,” Gil said coldly, “I thought they’d made their feelings clear enough—”
“Guess they felt the same way.”
“But I didn’t—” Gil paused. His eyes narrowed. He continued slowly, “Or rather, I had been led to believe…”
The engine gave a sudden cough and both of them looked at it. It hiccoughed and then roared back to full
power. Gil nodded. “You had some interesting ideas regarding the engine.” He paused. “Build many?”
Agatha slumped down into her seat. “None that work. I can’t concentrate. Nothing I do ever works. It’s so frustrating! I can see it in my head, but everything I build explodes or falls apart.”
The engine burped again. A worried look flitted across Gil’s face. “Um… Maybe I’d better check that engine again…”
Agatha ignored him. “And when I do try to concentrate, I get these terrible headaches that prevent me from doing anything! It’s so—”
Gil broke in. “You were working pretty intensely a minute ago and you didn’t get a headache then.”
Agatha looked at him owlishly. “Why, you’re right.” She thought, “Maybe it was because I was interrupted by your…” She looked at the little construct who had been waving at her frantically, but gave up, “Zoing?”
Gil studied her. “But if you’ve never been able to concentrate, how could you have—?” At this point Zoing grabbed the front of Gil’s coverall and began to furiously shake it. Annoyed, Gil turned. “What is it, Zoing? I—”
It was then that they saw the enormous gallery of windows set into the side of Castle Wulfenbach looming scant yards before them. All three had time to see the reflection of their stricken faces before they plowed straight through them in an explosion of glass and metal. Agatha found herself clutching Gil for dear life as the flyer burst into a causeway and continued through the walls on the opposite side. Wood paneling and various weapons flew about. The machine crashed to the ground and began to skid upon an ornate oriental carpet as debris bounced through the room, smashing furniture and knocking what appeared to be hunting trophies to the floor. In an enormous chair in the center of the room, a large creature looked up, startled at the intrusion. He had a large ornate teacup halfway to his mouth, and a book clumsily held in his oversized hand. They were heading straight for him when the creature calmly dropped his book, stuck out his arm, and with no apparent effort, halted the skidding machine dead.