Mr. Rovainen froze halfway through the door. In a dim pool of light, a familiar figure was hunched over a series of microscopes. “Dr. Vg,” he said. “Why are you still here? It is very late.”
Vg nodded without turning to face him. “I couldn’t sleep.” He delicately placed a pipette on a dish, and sat back with a sigh. “I think I have found a way to determine the age of the Hive Engine.”
Rovainen scuttled forward. “Really?”
Vg removed his pince-nez and buffed them on his sleeve, always a sign that he was pleased with himself. “Yes. It will involve disassembling part of the control unit, but once we have, we can compare the crystallization rates of the brines.”
Rovainen peered up at the massive Hive Engine that dominated the room. He nodded. “That would work.” He hesitated, then awkwardly placed a hand on Vg’s shoulder. “I have… always admired your brilliance, Doctor.” Vg was so surprised by this statement, that the shock of the blade passing through his chest was almost an afterthought. “I am so sorry,” Mr. Rovainen whispered as he gently lowered the stricken Vg to the floor.
Vg felt the life draining from him. “You… you have killed me!”
Mr. Rovainen stood over him and deftly reinserted the long steel blade into the spring device in his coat sleeve. “No, old friend. I have spared you.” He stepped up to the Hive Engine, and with three sure motions, activated it. “Spared you from that which is to come.”
Vg struggled, but only felt himself grow weaker. “You’ve activated it! Are you insane?”
Rovainen looked at him askance. “Alas, that comfort is denied me.”
Vg’s brain made one final leap of logic. “You’re a servant of the Other. You’re a revenant!”
“Yes.”
“Fight it! Don’t do this! The Other is dead! Gone!” The effort caused a gout of blood to cover his lips and he fell back.
Mr. Rovainen turned back to the now-glowing Engine. “Oh no. The Other lives—and I have seen her.”
Agatha floated in the middle of the universe and saw that it was an engine, endlessly ticking. She saw how it was put together. She reached out and grasped a tiny part which was, as she saw, connected to everything else, and twisted—”Yes. Now I see. Wrench.”
A small silver wrench was delicately placed into her outstretched hand. A final twist and she stepped back from the large cylinder before her. A movement to her side caught her eye and she realized that the wrench had been handed to her by a small brass clank that was the size and shape of a large pocket watch. It had diminutive arms and legs, and the single great eye set in the center of its face watched her intently. Agatha gave a small gasp of delight and leaned forward to study it. “What are you?” she breathed.
“You should know,” a voice remarked from behind her. Agatha whirled in surprise. There, perched upon a lab stool looking tired but exultant, was Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. He waved a hand. “You built them.”
It was only then that Agatha realized that the lab they were in, Gilgamesh’s she realized, was literally crawling with hundreds of small clanks, no two of them alike and all of them small enough to fit in her hand. Half of them seemed to be disassembling parts of the lab and its equipment, while the other half were reassembling said parts into new, unfamiliar shapes.
Agatha shook her head. “No, I couldn’t have built all these. There are too many of them.”
Gil shrugged. “I think you started a few nights ago—in your sleep.”
“But still—all of these…”
“That’s the best part. They’re self-replicating.” He snagged a small, domed clank that was moving across the floor by fits and starts. “I watched as this one was built by three others tonight.” Agatha peered at it and noticed that the rivets were misaligned along half of the little clank’s carapace. Its single eyed rolled towards her slowly. “It doesn’t seem to be as well made as the others,” Gil remarked.
Agatha stared at him. “But they work. I built something that works.”
Gil shrugged. “You’ll have to get used to that—being a Spark and all.”
Agatha felt like she was watching the conversation happen to someone else far away. “I built something that works,” the faraway girl said. She turned and looked Gil in the eye, to see if he was making fun of her. “A Spark,” she said.
Gil grinned. “I certainly hope so.” He gently took hold of her shoulder and swung her around. “Because if you’re not, then I’m never going to figure out what this is about.”
“This” was a tall, barrel-shaped clank standing motionless upon a pair of powerful, jacked legs. Attached to its back was a tapering, green metal pod that looked vaguely insectoid. The whole thing was startlingly familiar, and it suddenly dawned on Agatha where she’d seen it. “Is… is that your fencing clank?”
Gil nodded. “The fencing clank, part of the wrecked flying machine, bits of the furnace and the mechanical orchestra, my good lathe—” he looked at her quizzically “—and a pneumatic nutcracker.”
Agatha looked embarrassed. “I really like nuts.”
Gil nodded. For a Spark, this was solid stuff. Any number of devices had been built because “The cats on the moon told me to.”
Agatha frowned. “Wait. You don’t know what this is? But if you saw me put it together—”
Gil shrugged. “Oh, I know most of how you did it—You had me playing assistant half the night. But that’s a lot different from actually firing it up and seeing what it does. Maybe I’ll get Wooster to do it.”
“What?”
“Just kidding.” Gil grinned. A part of Agatha noted with a touch of embarrassment how much she enjoyed seeing his smile. He pulled a bizarre pocket watch out of his waistcoat and clasping her wrist, began to check her pulse. His hand was warm and comfortably strong. “Hmm. Accelerated pulse. So, how are you feeling?”
Agatha thought about it. “Good,” she realized, with a touch of surprise. “A little tired. Hungry.”
Gil snapped the watch lid shut and gestured towards a long table along the wall. “Hardly surprising, you’ve been working all night. I had the kitchens bring up some food. Help yourself.”
A large covered basket revealed a stack of warm crusty loaves of French-style bread. A block of sweet Irish butter was surrounded by several different types of cheese, including a sharp orange cheddar webbed with fiery spices, a buttery gouda baked into a flaky crust and a pungent bleu which contained small salt crystals that crunched between your teeth. Platters of cold meats, an astonishing selection of various puddings and sausages and smoked fish from all over the Empire. Several small crocks contained pickled vegetables.
Hungry as she was, Agatha swiftly constructed a massive sandwich and was in the process of topping it off with a potent garlic mustard that was a Beetleburg favorite, when she realized that the young man was observing her closely. He nodded when he saw that she had noticed. “You seem very…” He considered his words carefully. “Together.”
Agatha quickly checked her attire and then hefted the finished sandwich self-consciously. “Yes—I’m all dressed and everything.”
Gil waved that aside. “No, no. When a Spark breaks through, it’s usually very traumatic. A fair number go mad. Since they’re made during these periods of great emotional pain and confusion, breakthrough devices usually cause a lot of destruction. It’s how a lot of Sparks get killed. But you—even your first clank in Beetleburg was fairly benign. You haven’t broken through so much as eased through. My father will find this very interesting.”
Agatha swallowed. “You’re telling your father?”
Gil nodded. “Oh yes! He was totally wrong about you! He still thinks von Zinzer is the Spark! Hee!” It was obvious that catching his father in a mistake was the best thing to happen to Gil in quite some time.
“But I don’t want to be ‘studied,’” Agatha objected. “What if I end up like… like Dr. Vapnoople?”
Gilgamesh was instantly serious. “What makes you think you’ll end up like Dr. Vapno
ople?”
Agatha blinked. “Oh. Ah…”
Gil’s eyes narrowed. “How do you even know who he is?”
“I don’t really, but his cat warned me.” The sentence actually formed in Agatha’s head, but common sense kept it from being spoken. Luckily, she was spared further interrogation by a blast of sound that came from a set of whistles set into the wall. Both Agatha and Gilgamesh clapped their hands to their ears. “What is that?” Agatha shouted.
Gil leaned close to her and shouted back. “Evacuation alarm! There isn’t a drill scheduled, so let’s move!” With that he grabbed her hand and took off for the exit. Pipes were whistling all through the section, and Agatha saw people emerging from various doorways, some of them frantically clutching armloads of papers or equipment.
“Evacuation?” she yelled over the din, “You mean off the Castle?”
Gil shrugged. He seemed remarkably unconcerned. “Probably not,” he shouted back. “Just out of the labs. If it’s really bad, we’ll head to one of the support dirigibles.”
Agatha stopped suddenly, almost jerking Gil off his feet. “Wait! My little clanks!”
Gil frowned. “You don’t have time to collect them!”
Ignoring him, Agatha cupped her hands and roared down the hallway, “FOLLOW ME!”
From the doorway of the lab, a glittering carpet of tiny devices poured out into the hall. Suddenly the flood paused, and the giant mystery clank smashed through the doorframe. It moved quickly, but with a delicate mincing step that managed to avoid crushing any of the smaller machines that swarmed around its feet.
“But what are they even good for?” Gil yelled.
“If I leave them behind, we’ll never know!”
With that the two again headed towards the exit. Agatha noticed that the hall was now empty, except for them. Gil explained, “We’re experimenting with dangerous stuff here. Once the alarm goes off, we have two minutes to get out of the labs before they’re sealed off.”
“Does this happen a lot?”
Gil shrugged. “Every couple of weeks. You’ll get used to it.” They turned the corner and saw the exit doorway. Beyond it an anxious crowd was gathered, arms loaded with items. At the sight of Gil and Agatha, they raised a cheer and called encouragement. On the doorframe itself, lights were blinking, and a digital display across the top was counting down the seconds. As Agatha watched, it clicked to 21. With a gasp, they crossed the threshold. Agatha felt embarrassed at how out of shape she was, and with a guilty start, realized that she was leaning on Gil’s arm. She jerked herself off just as Gil’s hand was about to delicately ease itself onto her shoulder. With only a slight hesitation, said hand smoothly fished out his watch instead. He nodded.
“That’s cutting it a bit fine. But now we should find my father and help—”
“WAIT!” Agatha had screeched to a halt. “The prisoner!”
Gil looked at her blankly, then he frowned. “Othar? What about him?”
“He’s still locked up in your father’s lab. If it’s something dangerous, he’ll be helpless!”
“Your point being… ?” Agatha frowned. Gil lowered his eyes. “Look, you’ve got to understand. I’ve known Othar a long time. He’s completely insane. He’s probably the cause of this alarm. He’s very dangerous, especially to you—because—”
A collective gasp from the crowd caused him to look up in time to see Agatha darting back down the corridor just as the counter clicked to “0,” and the great metal doors clanged! shut. Instantly a shrill metallic keening arose from the floor. Everyone looked down and saw the swarm of little clanks frantically scrabbling at the closed door. The crowd shrieked and scuttled away, anxiously checking skirt hems and pant cuffs. Gil sighed and rolled his eyes, then squatted down and addressed them. “If you want me to go in after her, you’ll have to help me open that door!” The array of little machines stared back at him. He sat back upon his heels and felt slightly foolish. Why had he allowed himself to succumb to the impulse to talk to them like they could do could actually do anything—
With the sound of a thousand tiny relays flipping to a new setting, the little clanks pulled out, re-arranged themselves into, or simply grabbed a neighbor who was thus revealed to be part of, a vast set of miniature tools, with which they instantly attacked the great metal doorway that stood between them and their mistress.
On the other side of said door, Agatha was having second thoughts as she raced back down the corridor. Turning the bend, she almost plowed into the large mystery clank, which was jogging towards her. She swerved to the left, caromed off the corridor wall and kept on going. The clank jabbed a leg forward, pivoted around it with a screech until it was facing the way it had come, and then clanked off after her.
“What am I doing?” she muttered. “The Baron’s labs are probably even bigger than Gilgamesh’s. How can I find Othar quickly?”
“A-ha!” a voice rang out from an open doorway. “The reticent damsel answers the call of adventure!”
Agatha skidded to a halt and looked in. For a fellow who was chained upside down surrounded by an array of spring-loaded weapons all aimed at him, Othar looked remarkably cheerful, not to mention a bit smug. Agatha took a deep breath and went up to him. Behind her, the great metal clank tried, with qualified success, to ease itself through the doorway without causing too much damage.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Ha! Othar Tryggvassen laughs at such a question!”
“Probably because all the blood’s in your head.”
“That’s certainly part of it,” Othar cheerfully conceded.
Suddenly the great clank stepped forward. With a hisss, the four great fencing arms, topped with their various weapons, unfolded. “Subject Othar—”Its voice was an astonishingly melodious three-part chorus “—I am here to rescue you!”
With a scream, the great circular sawblade on its lower right arm roared into life and, with a flourish, cut through the chains holding Othar aloft, centimeters away from his fingers. Instantly, the spring-loaded weapons released, and were deftly deflected by the remaining arms quickly enough that the machine was able to grab Othar by the leg before he had time to crash onto the floor. Triumphant music erupted from the device and it waved Othar about like a baton as it lumbered back through the doorway, all consideration for the doorframe’s integrity forgotten.
Agatha raced after it, opened her mouth, and ran straight into a billowing expanse of ribbed fabric. Backing up, she saw that the pod upon the clank’s back had opened, and a vast set of green, bat-like wings, supported by an intricate cluster of rods and levers, was unfolding and snapping into position. “Fear not!” The clank sang joyously, “Soon you will be safe!”
“Wait!” Agatha screamed. “We’re inside! You can’t fly in here!”
For a split-second, the device paused, and then spun about and lumbered forward, gaining speed as it headed for a vast bank of windows. Seeing this, Othar frantically doubled his efforts to escape the device’s clutches, but to no avail, as without hesitation, the clank, and its unwilling passenger, smashed through the tempered glass and plunged into the empty sky. Agatha dashed to the gaping hole, and clutched the edge, fighting against the great winds that tore at her long enough to hear a final triumphant “Be free!” along with Othar’s fading scream as they dropped out of sight.
“Well,” she said distantly to no one in particular, “at least now I know what it was for.”
A sudden silence caused her to look around. “The alarm is off. Now what was that for?”
At the far end of the gallery, a door creaked open. A large insectoid head poked through, along with several long multi-jointed arms. Agatha froze. Everyone was trained to know what a Slaver wasp looked like.
Klaus’ quarters were large and opulent, in a restrained and tasteful way. Many of the quarters aboard the Castle were snug at best. Here, there was space, despite the great canopied bed and the large solid items of furniture that occupied the area. At the mom
ent, it was filled with people, many of whom were in the process of coming or going, while a core group collected reports and sent messengers out anew. In the center of it all was the master of Castle Wulfenbach, who was finishing off a goblet of warm wine while his valet finished buckling on a great bandoleer fully loaded with immense shells. The gun that used these shells was strapped into a large holster on his hip. The other hip was taken up with a scabbard holding a villainous-looking greatsword almost two meters long.
The main doorway was filled by the large, bulky form of Jägergeneral Goomblast. “Herr Baron—der outfliers report Slaver warriors all over your main labs.”
Boris nodded. “Yes, the Hive Engine has been activated. Do you have any new information for us?” Goomblast shook his head.
“A revenant onboard,” Klaus muttered. “How many were in the labs?”
Mr. Rovainen hunched his shoulders. “We’re not sure. A few technicians cleaning, Dr. Kirstein’s team was running their lizard-candy experiment… oh, and the prisoner, of course.”
Klaus rolled his eyes. “Of course. Where is Dr. Vg?”
Mr. Rovainen polished his left lens with a bandage-wrapped finger. “Ah. No one has seen Dr. Vg since last night,” he admitted.
Goomblast broke in. “Dere iz some goot news—All der bogs dey haff seen so far iz varriors!”
Klaus perked up. “So there’s a chance that the actual swarm is still gestating? That is good news! How soon before we’re ready to go in?”
“Hyu giff der order undvego. Vehaff a mixed team of Jägerkin, Lackya, clenks und crew at each entry.”
“Excellent. I am pleased at the lack of rivalry.”
Goomblast drew himself up. “Sir—dere iz a time to twit nancyboy feets men and a time to crush bogs.” The head Lacky a bristled while Boris rolled his eyes. Klaus blinked.
He was saved from any comment by the arrival of Von Pinn, who entered through the door with a creak of leather and an expressive leer from the Jäger on the door. “The children’s ship is away,” she rasped. “The older ones were not happy.”
Agatha H. and the Airship City Page 21