Agatha H. and the Airship City Read online

  A few brave shops were open, carters still moved necessary supplies through the streets under the watchful eyes of Wulfenbach forces, but the heart of the town, the University, was closed. Crowds of students and teachers filled coffee shops and taverns discussing the events of the previous day. These conversations fell silent whenever the tall brass clanks of Baron Wulfenbach passed by outside. Their machine cannons constantly moved from side to side as they slowly strode down the center of the streets.

  Human officers patrolled the area as well, identifiable by the flying castle badge they wore. They regulated traffic, politely answered questions and put a human face upon the occupation.

  The inhuman face was supplied by the Jägermonsters, who had, during the night, stopped several bands of looters, seized fourteen people who had attempted to leave the city under cover of darkness, and apparently captured a large saurian that had been prowling through the city’s sewers for some time. Several of these (including the saurian) were on display in the Square of the Tyrant.

  The most talked about incident had occurred when a small band of Jägers had blithely walked into the Thieves’ Market. Instead of closing it down, they wound up dickering furiously with Blind Otto for some hats. After they left, it was discovered that they had managed to steal the boots off of Otto’s feet. Blind Otto was said to be, grudgingly, impressed.

  The death of the Tyrant had stunned the populace. There was a great deal of confusion as to which event, the Master’s death or the town’s occupation, had come first. So far there was little anger. Dr. Merlot had been correct in his assessment that for the populace at large, the presence of the Master had been more of a reassuring concept than a day-to-day experience. The actual takeover of the town had been quick, and the hand of its new master lay lightly so far. Civic leaders had been honored with an audience with the Baron himself, and the ones who survived the experience moved with a new purpose.

  The greatest disturbance had appeared, unexpectedly, in the western part of town. The Baron, his son Gil, Boris, several clanks, a very brave and opportunistic doughnut seller, and a squad of Jägermonsters stood in the center of the street and watched with interest as a large, crude clank, belching black smoke and moving with a ponderous slow step, lurched around the corner. To the trained eye, it was obvious that the device had been built out of a large steam tractor, with the addition of a pair of large solid legs. A single manipulator claw was folded up beneath the prow. At each step, the device paused and swung its front end from side to side.

  The Baron, his hands clasped behind him, observed the device with genuine pleasure. “Well well well.” He murmured, “This is interesting. Boris?”

  His secretary, who was munching on a doughnut, took a sip of coffee, delicately wiped his lips and gestured in the direction of the machine simultaneously. “Not one of ours, Herr Baron. Nor is it from outside the town. It has caused some minor damage, but I believe that to be unintentional.” The Baron nodded.

  The clank was now halfway down the street, and appeared to register their presence. The whistle perched upon its top gave a brief hoot, and it began to advance steadily towards them.

  “Purpose?”

  “It appears to be looking for someone.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Allow me to demonstrate.” Boris turned to a Jägermonster standing nearby who was gnawing on a sausage. “Sergeant? Go up to it.”

  The soldier spit out a chunk of sausage in surprise. “Vat? Me?”

  Boris nodded. “Yes, you. Go up to it.”

  The soldier glowered at the shorter man. “I don’ take schtupid orders from you.”

  “I don’t give them. Now go do something useful.”

  The Jäger grinned. “Ho! So I can sqvish you den, hey, bugman?”

  Boris and the Jägermonsters despised each other. Boris, a naturally fussy man, found their permanently disheveled lifestyles an affront to everything he believed in. The Jägers thought him a self-important, officious prat. Boris had yet to give any Jäger an order that was not automatically questioned. This had escalated until the famous incident where a Jägermonster who was on fire had to be ordered several times, in writing, to put himself out, after which Klaus had stepped in. There were still arguments, but now there was a time limit.

  This morning Klaus intervened early. “Boris, is it safe?”

  “I honestly believe so, Herr Baron.”

  “Good. Sergeant? Carry on.”

  “Jah, Herr Baron.” With a theatrical sigh, the soldier tossed his weapon to Boris, who managed to catch it without spilling his coffee, and stomped over to the machine, which had advanced to meet him in the middle of the street. When he was within range, the arm quickly unfolded from underneath and grabbed him.

  “Oh, help,” he muttered in a disgusted tone of voice, “I hef been captured by a clenk. Help. Help.”

  The machine raised him up to what appeared to be an array of crude sensors on its front. “Hokay,” the Jäger muttered, “get on vit it.”

  Several of the sensor lens flared into blue-white brightness and swept over the captive soldier, who flinched at the glare. After several seconds of stillness, the device casually tossed the Jägersoldier onto the ground and again began to advance.

  Boris smiled serenely and bit into a fresh doughnut. “You see, Herr Baron, entertaining, but harmless.”

  The furious sergeant strode up, while brushing off his hat. “You is schtupid! Dat ting could be lookink for hennybody! And ven it finds dem, den you gots trouble!”

  Klaus nodded. “You are correct, Sergeant, but this is also a priceless opportunity.”

  Boris looked stricken. “I don’t understand, Herr Baron.”

  The now grinning Jägermonster poked him in the back of the head. “Dots because hyu ain’t the schmot guy.”

  The Baron turned to his son, who quickly finished his own doughnut. “Gil?”

  “Well, Father, I’ve thought of four ways to stop it, depending on whether you want it destroyed, shut down, contained, or immobilized.”

  The Baron sighed. “Actually, I want it distracted.”

  A look of annoyance flashed across Gilgamesh’s face. “Of course you do.” It was replaced by a mischievous look and with a “Consider it done!” he bounded forward, ignoring his father’s cry of alarm.

  Striding up to the machine he jauntily addressed it. “Hullo, Herr Clank! Are you looking for me?”

  Again the metal arm whipped out and grabbed, but all it brought up to its sensors was an empty greatcoat. Several yards away, from atop a stack of barrels, Gilgamesh gaily called out, “Ho! You’ll have to do better than that!”

  Instantly the giant device launched itself towards him, displaying an unsuspected turn of speed. The ground shook under the impacts of its massive feet. Gil stood, apparently unconcerned as the device thundered towards him, until the last second, when as the great hand smashed into the barrel where he’d been, he leapt onto the shaft of the arm, and with a bounce, latched onto the case containing the sensor array, blocking it with his body.

  The device stopped dead for several seconds. Its arm swung up, but could not reach Gil. It then began a twisting, gyrating series of movements to try and throw him off. Clinging grimly, Gil called out, “Any time, Father!”

  Klaus, after his first display of agitation, had gone still, as he intensely studied the movements of the control unit at the rear of the clank. It was a small bullet-shaped mechanism equipped with several flexible arms which furiously operated the levers and wheels that actually drove the main engine. After a minute or so, a grim smile crossed his features and he reached into his coat, pulling out a small grappling gun. In a single motion he aimed and fired, and the automatic grapple closed upon the lever he desired. A sharp tug, and the switch was thrown. With a massive hiss of escaping steam, the clank pitched forward onto its knees, inert. Gil released himself at the last moment and landed lightly upon his feet. Nonchalantly dusting himself off, Gil remarked, “Well done, Father.”
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  Klaus wheeled at him and roared, “LACKWIT! How dare you put yourself at risk! You or I may very well be this device’s quarry! I needed a distraction, not a sacrifice! That is what the Jägermonsters are for!”

  Boris looked askance at the sergeant. “A pity we can’t use them

  all.”

  The Jäger dismissed him with a good-natured wave of his hand. “Ah—go kees an hoctopoos. Oh vait, you mama already did!”

  His point made, Klaus began to examine the motionless device. The monster soldier sidled up to a silently fuming Gil and murmured. “Hey, keed.” Gil blinked as a large hairy hand descended on his shoulder. “Hyu deed pritty goot dere, hen don be fooled. You papa doz crazy schtupid stoff like dot hall de time. Hokay?”

  Gill nodded. “Hokay. Ah—I mean okay. Thanks.”

  At that moment the Baron yelled, “Everybody back!” as he leapt from the rear of the clank, which, with much hissing and squealing, was pulling itself back up onto its feet. Once there, it spun around several times, and whistle blowing, strode off down the street by which it had come. Klaus nodded in satisfaction. “Sergeant,” he roared, “prepare some ‘C’ bombs! First patrol— Follow that clank!”

  Six Jägers roared, “Jah! Herr Baron, ve hunt!” and pelted off down the street.

  Gil turned to his father who was shrugging off his greatcoat. Even beneath his shirt and vest, muscles could be discerned, shifting and moving. “What did you do, Father?”

  “The device was programmed to find someone and then bring them ‘home.’ I simply reversed the device’s task order.” He flung his coat at a startled Boris. “Now let’s run!”

  As one, the two men sped off down the road, to the astonishment of the observing townspeople. As they ran, Klaus called out, “Tell me what we’ll find!”

  A look of exasperation crossed Gil’s face. “Everything does not have to be a test!”

  Klaus laughed and effortlessly cleared a cartload of barrels that had been knocked down by the passing clank. “Life is a test! Now answer!”

  Gil concentrated for a moment as he ran, then spoke as they leapt down a set of stone steps. “It’s not one of Beetle’s—it’s too crude. Maybe a student, or a younger professor.”

  The streets were beginning to fill now, people were staring after the clank that had rumbled through the streets and the Jägermonsters that had pursued it, but the way was still clear enough that the two men were able to run unhindered.

  Klaus shook his head. “No. Anyone at the University would have had access to better materials. The construction screams inexperience, and since there have been no new Sparks in this area for several years, I believe this to be a breakthrough! A new Spark, and I want him!”

  “Maybe Beetle was hiding him?”

  “No. The preliminary stages of a breakthrough are extremely difficult to disguise. Remember?” Gil nodded. His own breakthrough had had to be explained as a venting explosion in the main labs, and everyone else had just assumed that the pools of raspberry jelly were a bizarre side effect. Klaus continued, “Beetle couldn’t even hide a Hive Engine. A new Spark would have been impossible.”

  Gil looked and saw that the street up ahead had completely filled with curious bystanders. Without a word the two men swerved, and leapt atop a wall that ran along the street, upon which they dashed past the astonished crowd. “Unless, Father, he’d known that this particular person would break through, and had isolated them beforehand.”

  Klaus frowned. “Unlikely. We keep records on the families of all established Sparks, and there are none unaccounted for. As for detecting a potential breakthrough amongst the general populace, even I have yet to develop a sure test for that. What else can you tell me?”

  Gil thought for a moment while leaping from the wall. “It wasn’t constructed at the University. So a foundry or a machine shop off-campus. Only they’d have the necessary tools. But if he’s a newcomer to town—”

  Klaus interrupted: “Shops can be rented. What about the man himself?”

  A series of overturned carts, shouting peddlers, and items strewn about the streets indicated they were entering a market district. Gil vaulted over a load of spring onions. “He’s been wronged by someone. Someone he can’t touch through normal channels.” He grimaced. “Most likely us.”

  Klaus nodded grimly. “Yes, the timing is perfect. Beetle is dead at our hands—”

  “He threw a bomb at me.”

  “Someone here is very upset.” They raced through Beetle Fountain Square, with its spitting statues. Pigeons clattered upwards around them, their clockwork mechanisms almost inaudible over the sound of their wings. Suddenly one of the birds froze and dropped to the ground, where, Gil suddenly noted, dozens more lay. Obviously the events of the last day had interfered with the pensioners whose daily job it was to wind them. “Many people are going to be upset, Father.”

  “Beetle was loved by the populace,” Klaus admitted. “But more in the abstract. He did not interact with the general populace on a day-to-day basis. Therefore our question is who would be so upset that it would trigger a breakthrough?” He grinned wolfishly. “That is the mystery, and soon enough we shall know the answer!”

  Adam and Lilith hurried through the meager crowd in front of the shops along Market Street. Their dark clothing, while a bit somber, did not stand out as much as their size. However people in the district were used to the oversized couple, and no longer gave them much thought. Adam looked glum. Lilith, being able to give voice to her annoyance, was more animated in her displeasure. “Fruitless!” she grumbled. “We’ve wasted a good part of yesterday and an entire night thanks to those stupid Jägerkin and no one knew anything about the locket or the thieves.” She looked at the dawn sky with trepidation. “We must leave the city at once and get as far away as possible. I’m guessing that we have a week at best before…”

  A subtle change of the pressure on her arm caused her to look at her husband in annoyance. “Adam, you’re not listening to a word I’m—”

  This was all too true, as Adam’s head had snapped back at a booming noise that was getting closer. Effortlessly he swept up the startled Lilith and hurled them both to one side just as the clank, its smokestack pouring forth clouds of black smoke thundered past them. Raising themselves up, they were just in time to see a squad of Jägermonsters fly past, howling. Purely by chance, Adam’s eyes locked with that of an older Jäger, who grinned widely at them before running on.

  Sweat started out on Adam’s forehead. Lilith pulled herself up, her eyes wide with realization. “Was that… That was Herr Ketter’s tractor!” The full ramifications of what they had seen caused her face to go white. “Agatha!” she cried.

  Agatha was furiously scrubbing her hands in the big zinc tub when a pained groan came from the figure on the floor. She was a bit unsure about what she should do. Normally, of course, she’d have summoned the Watch, but as the only law enforcement lay in the hands of the Wulfenbachs, she’d decided that it would be easiest to wait for Adam and Lilith to return. She had hoped they would do so before the man had revived, but obviously it was not to be. She decided to go on the offensive. “Finally waking up, eh?”

  Moloch rolled over and tried to move his arms, but found them tied behind him. He sagged in despair. “Ow. My face. Ow.”

  Agatha came over and grasped his chin and examined the lump there. “It’s not broken. You’ll live.” She hefted the wrench she held in her other hand menacingly. “But I’ll smack you again unless you tell me what you did here.”

  Moloch looked at her ruefully. “I woke you up. Not really a morning person, are you?”

  “No, I mean, why did you bring me down to the shop? Why did you trash the place?”

  Moloch looked genuinely surprised. “I did not! You were already here asleep on that bench and the place looked like this when I got here. Even the door was open.”

  Agatha frowned. “Then who—?”At that moment the great doors swung open and the doorway was filled by an en
ormous clank that stepped within the forge and paused. Agatha dropped her wrench. Moloch tried to scramble away, but got tangled in the coil of rope, and he tumbled backwards. A small part of Agatha’s brain noted with alarm that Moloch had managed to surreptitiously slip his bonds.

  Before he could disentangle himself, the clank’s arm snapped out and the metal hand snatched the soldier up, kicking and squealing. It swung him up towards its sensors and a bright flash filled the gloomy shop accompanied by Moloch’s scream of terror. Several seconds of whirring and clicking within the depths of the machine suddenly resulted in an array of green lights blooming across its front. A small bell rang and the arm gently swung Moloch down and offered him to a bewildered Agatha, who backed away. As she did so, the machine followed her, jogging its hand encouragingly. Agatha shook her head. “What? What do you want?”

  Moloch caught her attention. It was obvious that he was being squeezed rather tightly, if the way his eyes were bugging out was any indication. “Help,” he whispered.

  Agatha blinked. “I… ah… down! Put him down.”

  Gently the device deposited a shaken Moloch onto the floor of the shop, dinged twice, and ceased all movement. Agatha and Moloch stared at it for a moment, but it did nothing else. Moloch turned towards Agatha. “What is this thing?”

  Agatha shrugged. “I don’t know.” Suddenly her eyes narrowed as she examined the device. The core was certainly familiar though, wasn’t that Herr Ketter’s—?

  The sound of breaking glass caused both of them to turn. Agatha saw the small hole in the west window. Moloch saw the small metal container that landed on the floor and spun about on its weighted base, a small windup key ticking gently. As Agatha murmured “What in the world—” Moloch yelled in his loudest battlefield voice, “C-GAS!”

  Agatha just had time to look up and ask, “What’s—” Before a cloud of gas exploded upwards, filling the room and enveloping them both.