Agatha H. and the Airship City

CHAPTER 5

“I am Von Pinn,” the ominous figure continued, “I am in charge here. You—” she gave the dangling Agatha a sharp shake, “are Agatha Clay. I have not heard good things about you.” She indicated the children who were frozen into immobility around the room. “I take the safety of these children very seriously, and I have just witnessed an example of your reckless behavior.”

Agatha tried to break in. “The flying machine? But I didn’t— urk”

Von Pinn loosened the grip that had cut Agatha off. “Understand that you are here to keep a minor Spark in line. Nothing more. I will not permit you to place any of my charges in danger.”

“I wouldn’t—gurk!”

Von Pinn’s voice became even more ominous. “I have also heard reports of your tendency towards indecency. Your upbringing has obviously been shockingly lax. This is no doubt the fault of your parents.”

A small switch in Agatha’s head clicked over from “scared” to “angry.” “Oh, now hold on! My parents—” She was jerked to within inches of Von Pinn’s face. “Silence! I am aware of the swinish behavior of the lower classes.” Agatha’s eyes bulged. “You… I… If…”

“While you are in my care you will conduct yourself in a more seemly fashion. And despite any pathetic dreams you may have about ‘bettering your position’—I assure you that Master Gilgamesh, in particular, will not be taken by your slatternly ways.”

Agatha grasped Von Pinn’s arm and glared at her in fury. “I wouldn’t have your Master Gilgamesh if you stripped him naked and dipped him in cheese!”

Everyone watching, gasped. Von Pinn’s face froze. Slowly she brought Agatha’s face to within an inch of her own. “And what,” she asked dangerously, “is wrong with Master Gilgamesh?”

Rage filled Agatha and exploded outwards. “PUT ME DOWN YOU WRETCHED CONSTRUCT!”

Instantly Von Pinn’s hand snapped open and Agatha fell to the floor. A look of shock and horror crossed Von Pinn’s face as she stared at her open hand. That look changed to fury and she turned to face a dazed Agatha, her hands forming into claws, when suddenly, a soft chiming sound came from her waist. Faster then the eye could follow, a hand dipped into a hidden pocket and extracted a small gold pocket watch. Von Pinn glanced at it and snapped the cover shut. When she looked at Agatha, she was once again in control.

“I have a class in three minutes. I am never late. I will deal with you later.”

Agatha stood up. “Deal with me by listening to me. I—”A puff of displaced air and the slamming of the door at the end of the room announced Von Pinn’s departure.

Agatha blinked. “Wow. That was fast. How does she—?” It was then that she noticed the circle of open-mouthed faces staring at her in astonishment. The tableaux continued for several seconds before Agatha broke it with a sharp “What?” This was the signal for all of the children under six to begin crying at the top of their lungs.

“What did I do?” Agatha asked Sleipnir as she held a sobbing four-year-old.

“You got Von Pinn riled up.” A boy who appeared to be about twelve, with a small silver clock imbedded in his forehead, started tossing a little girl up into the air. “Sleipnir said you were friendly. She neglected to mention that you were suicidal.”

A tall, dark skinned, young man with sleek black hair pulled back into a short ponytail emerged from one of the apartments. He took in the situation and then stepped up to the railing and his voice boomed out. “Hey! Who wants to hear a Heterodyne story?”

Startled, the children stared at him and then began clamoring in assent, their fear forgotten. The young man settled down at the top of the steps and made a great show of scratching his chin in thought. “Well now, what’s a good one?” The children clustered about his feet and made suggestions.

One boy stood slightly apart from the rest and crossed his arms defiantly. “Aw, the Heterodyne Boys weren’t real people.” This caused the children to gasp in surprise.

The young man turned to him. “Of course they were, Olaf. The Baron used to work with them. My Aunt Lucrezia married one of them. They’re real people all right.”

“Then where are they?”

“Ah, now that’s a good story! It’s called The Heterodyne Boys and the Dragon From Mars!” All of the children, even Olaf, leaned forward in expectation.

Off to the side, the older children relaxed. Agatha nudged Sleipnir and indicated the storyteller. “Who’s that?”

“Theopholus DuMedd. He’s head boy.”

“Head boy?”

Sleipnir looked slightly embarrassed. “There’s a… pecking order here. There’s some that take it more seriously than others. It factors in family lineage, Sparkiness and some other nonsense. Theo’s related to the Heterodynes by marriage, and he’s got a touch of the Spark to him.”

“Really? Wow.”

Suddenly Theo jumped up and stretched out his arms and intoned, “And the revenants saw them and they RAN!” Which was apparently the signal for all of the young children to run squealing about the room, a lumbering Theo in pursuit.

Sleipnir smiled. “He’s a great storyteller.”

They paused as a swarm of children fled past. Theo followed stiff leggedly. He nodded to the girls as he passed. “RHaah,” he said conversationally.

“And he knows how to talk to a lady, he does.” Sleipnir looked over at Agatha and “tsked.” “I see you’ll be needing a change of clothes. The Von Pinn’s a rough one.” Agatha glanced down and saw that where the construct had grasped her, her outfit was sliced and torn. “Come on, I got you some stuff from crew supplies. It’ll probably fit you a bit better too.”

Inside Sleipnir’s room, Agatha tried on several outfits. They did fit better, and Agatha felt more herself once she was back in a proper, ankle-length skirt. But Sleipnir did insist on including a few pairs of mechanics trousers in the wardrobe they assembled. “You’ll get used to ‘em,” she promised. Agatha doubted it.

“So, this Von Pinn. What is she?”

“She’s the nanny. She’s in charge of the children.” Agatha stopped and looked at Sleipnir closely, but as far as she could tell, the redhead was serious.

“You’ve got to be kidding. That vicious lunatic is in charge of

children?”

“Oh, aye. I’ve been raised by her for the last ten years. It’s very comforting, really. She’s never hurt any of the children, and you know that nothing could get past her to hurt you.” Sleipnir looked Agatha in the eye, “And on this ship, this close to the Baron, that’s worth knowing.” Her voice dropped conspiratorially, “They say that she was once Lucrezia Heterodyne.”

Agatha was surprised. “Really?”

“Oh, aye. The Baron found her in the ruins of Castle Heterodyne after the Other destroyed it and brought her back here.”

“That would be a heck of a case of P.R.T.”

P.R.T, or Post-Revivification Trauma, was a frequent result when people were brought back from death as constructs. The chief symptom was memory failure, which could range from the temporary blanking of a few hours, up to and including total, permanent identity loss. This latter was the more common result, and was the main reason why more madboys didn’t transform themselves into constructs in the first place. It was still tempting, as the basics of construct technology were fairly well understood, as were the steps required to give the standard improvements to speed, strength and lifespan. Many a madboy, impatient with the limitations imposed upon their body by nature, had succumbed to temptation only to awaken with no knowledge of their previous life. Most of these creatures were subsequently destroyed by vengeful citizens or were now working for the Baron. This was because another frequent result was a shift in personality, and many a fulminating madboy now found simple contentment as a researcher or lab assistant. Theoretically it could also go the other way around, but as the supply of meek, quiet, sensible Sparks was vanishingly low to start with, it had, so far, remained merely a tricky essay question on the “Ethics of Revivification” final exam at Paris’ Institut de L’Extraordinaire. These revived Sparks were so useful that the Baron actively encouraged his more hysterical fellow Sparks to “give themselves a makeover.”

“That’s as may be,” said Sleipnir, “though I’ve heard it whispered that the Lady Heterodyne had quite a temper in her before.”

They emerged just at the climax of Theo’s story. Agatha was sorry she’d missed the rest, as it apparently involved a gigantic mechanical dragon that was currently being dragged off to Mars via some sort of water portal, pulling the Heterodynes in behind it aboard a rowboat. Suddenly the portal shut with the SMACK of Theopholus’ hands coming together, causing his rapt audience to jump and then squeal in appreciation.

Then one of the boys announced that he was hungry and the others joined in. At this the dark-clad servants swooped in and began seating the children at the table.

Agatha was forcibly reminded of how hungry she was at this point by her stomach growling loud enough to be heard by Sleipnir, who laughed and showed her where to sit at one of the long tables.

There was a quick round of introductions, but Agatha found herself distracted by a flurry of activity from a small group of children who had not sat down, but had, to Agatha’s surprise, produced several odd-looking devices. These proved to be controllers of some sort, as with a crash, several primitive clanks rolled, or in one notable case lurched, into the room from what was obviously an attached kitchen.

First came a tall, spindly device that made sure everyone had knives, forks and spoons. Unfortunately, it delivered them with such speed, that as it swept past, it left a small forest of utensils imbedded into the wooden tabletop, still vibrating. Agatha couldn’t help but notice that the tabletops looked brand new, and were held in place by spring-locked brackets for easy replacement. Suddenly, this made a lot of sense.

Next came the lurching clank, which was loaded with a precarious tower of ever shifting china soup bowls. To everyone’s astonishment, it stepped up onto the tabletop itself, and proceeded to spill bowls onto the table in an endless cascade. After the first panic, everyone realized that the bowls wound up undamaged, upright, and perfectly positioned upon the table. Agatha stared at the wildly flailing mechanism and saw how the “falling” bowls were actually skillfully guided down by a series of well-coordinated taps. Everyone understood now, and the table spontaneously erupted in applause right up until the clank strode over the edge of the table and crashed to the floor, sending shattered bowls across half the room. An eight-year-old girl with bluish-black hair and prominent eyebrows dropped her controller and began to cry. A servant knelt to comfort her while several of the others quickly swept up the mess.

The third clank looked like a small tanker car on treads. It lumbered up and a pipe swiveled out. The pipe gurgled and Theo, with a lightning fast move, twitched his bowl under the pipe in time for a stream of hot soup to pour forth. The bowl filled perfectly, and Theo closed his eye and sniffed appreciably, which is why he failed to see the pipe swing towards his head with a dull BONK. A small child with a swarthy complexion swore in Greek and made an adjustment on the controller. The pipe elevated, the clank advanced, and the process repeated. By the time the device had swung around the table and got to Agatha, a fourth clank, held aloft by an ingenious collection of balloons and propellers had made several trips back and forth delivering baskets of fresh hot bread, racks of condiments and ramekins of fresh butter.

Agatha ducked under the pipe and examined the soup, which smelled incredible. It was a rich chicken soup, filled with an array of finely sliced vegetables, several of which Agatha was unfamiliar with. A bowl of thick yellow spätzle noodles was handed to her by Sleipnir. Agatha took her cue from the others and spooned a ladle full into her soup.

The children were wiping down their clanks and congratulating each other. The girl with the bowl-dispenser clank was still snuffling a bit, but had rallied.

“That was pretty amazing,” Agatha said. “Does that sort of thing happen at every meal?”

“Are you joking?” DuMedd muttered sottovoce, “We’d be dead in a week.” He twitched a thumb and Agatha noticed several small holes in one of the walls. “You’re lucky you missed last Monday’s Swedish meatballs.”

Agatha thoughtfully turned back to her meal. The soup itself was tangy and delicious and Agatha found that she had emptied half her bowl before she looked up. “You were hungry,” Sleipnir allowed, and poured Agatha a large glass of a thick, white liquid from a broad-based pitcher. Agatha sniffed it and a brief taste confirmed that it was tangy, like buttermilk, but sweet.

“That’s called lassi,” Sleipnir said as she lowered her own half-emptied glass. “It’s a fermented milk drink that Theo brought.”

Further down the table, DuMedd waved a hand in acknowledgement. “Everyone’s expected to provide a few dishes from their homeland. Makes for a nice bit of variety,” he explained.

Agatha found herself chewing a spicy vegetable that required the rest of her lassi to quench. She demurely wiped her lips with the heavy linen napkin from her lap. “You know, I’m quite fond of the Heterodyne Boys stories, but I’ve never heard that one with the dragon before.”

Theo grinned and pushed his spectacles up his nose. “I just made it up. You liked it?” He had a deep voice that made Agatha’s ears tingle.

Agatha nodded. “My favorite story is The Heterodyne Boys and the Race to the West Pole.”

A short young man with a noble prow of a nose spoke up. “You have an ear for the truth. That one really happened.” He became aware of the rest of the group looking at him. “Well, mostly,” he added defensively.

Agatha cocked an eyebrow at him. “Right.”

“No, no! It is true! My father built the Mechanical Camel!”

Agatha blinked. “Your father is—?”

The young man drew himself up proudly. “The Iron Sheik. Yes. And I am his son, Zâmî Yahyâ Ahmad ibn Sulimân al-Sinâjî.” He smiled. “But you may call me ‘Z.’”

Agatha sat back in her chair and regarded him with wide eyes. “Golly. I’m not used to thinking of the Heterodyne Boys and the people in the stories as… as real people.”

Zâmî shrugged. “As real as you or I.”

At this point, a large dish of various cheeses began to make the rounds. None of them looked familiar, and Sleipnir made a few helpful suggestions. Most of them were delicious, but one of them caused Agatha to choke, as she was convinced that she was eating someone’s unwashed foot. The others at the table, who had been watching her surreptitiously, snorted in laughter at her expression. “Give it up, O’Hara,” said Sun Ming, a slim Asian girl seated next to DuMedd. “No one else but you likes that stuff.”

Sleipnir morosely took the remaining chunk of the offending cheese off of Agatha’s plate. “You are all heathens, who wouldn’t know the ambrosia of the gods from a cod’s head and I pity you all, sure enough.” She popped it in her mouth and chewed.

Agatha found herself laughing with the rest. While the circumstances behind her being here were alarming, she found that she enjoyed the company of these people more than she had ever enjoyed the company of the students at the college.

A thought struck her and she looked around. Between the older and younger children, they occupied just two of the vast tables in the common area. There were easily another twenty of these, all unoccupied, except for a cluster of the servants who sat near the younger children, keeping an eye on them while they supped on their own bowls of soup. “I can’t help but notice that there aren’t a lot of students here,” Agatha observed. A few of the others nodded.

“You came at a quiet time,” DuMedd explained. “The Baron insists that those with lands that need planting in the spring should help oversee the process personally, and actually assist if they’re old enough.”

A tall young man with wildly disheveled hair who’d been introduced as Nicodeamus Yurkofsky chimed in. “He says that it gives them a better appreciation of where their power comes from and who’s actually keeping them fed.”

Agatha thought about some of the members of Royalty that she had seen come through the Tyrant’s labs throughout the years. “I’ll bet they love that,” she said carefully.

“It’s the older generation that gets all horrified,” DuMedd said with a laugh. “The kids look forward to it all year long. That and the harvest. The fact that it scandalizes their parents? That’s usually seen as a bonus.”

Agatha looked around at them. “So what about your families?”

DuMedd’s face got sober. “I don’t have any family.” Agatha started to stammer an apology, but he waved it aside. “You couldn’t know. My parents died fighting air pirates about twelve years ago.”

“Really? Were they Sparks?”

“Yes. My father was more into the theoretical stuff, but my mother was Demonica Mongfish.”

The Mongfish name was one that was mentioned prominently in any history of the Spark. From their citadel in Novaya Zemlya, they had periodically terrorized the surrounding area. The latest, Lucifer Mongfish had been a perennial opponent to the Heterodyne Boys, so much so that, eventually, one of his three daughters, Lucrezia Mongfish, actually married Bill Heterodyne. After that, everyone pretty much agreed that fighting in public would be unseemly. Holiday get-togethers, however, were a different matter, and by mutual agreement, every event was held at a different location to reduce the collateral damage.

Most of the others had similar stories. Sleipnir concluded, “There’s also a few of the others who are still here, but they’re on duty, like your roommate, Zulenna. You’ll meet her later.”

“Zulenna. That’s a pretty name. Is she nice?” The others looked at each other.

“Um… no, not really,” Sleipnir admitted. “There’s a reason why she’s without a roommate at the moment.”

Suddenly they became aware of raised voices from the children’s table. “No—that’s not how they worked!”

“Oh, like you’d know!”

“I know enough to do basic research on biomechanics!”

“The only thing that’s basic around here is your grasp of the theories behind mechanical forces!”

“Oooh! You take that back!”

Agatha found this discussion a bit disconcerting, partly because it was delivered by a pair of twelve-year-olds, and partly because it sounded exactly like an argument she’d heard last week in the teacher’s lounge at the University.

“Make me, stupid head!”

“Ooh! I’m telling!”

Yep. Exactly.

Theo reached in and pulled the two apart. “Now what is this all about?”

A small, wiry boy sporting a large pair of goggles spoke up. “The bugs—”

The other boy, the freckled redhead with a small silver clock set into his forehead, interrupted. “Duh—Slaver wasps.”

“Get wound. You can’t just suck them out of people like in Theo’s story, can you?”

Theo nodded somberly. “That’s correct, Itto. Nothing can cure a revenant.”

“But the story said—”

“Stories are for fun. Do not mistake them for facts.”

Another child spoke up. “My father said that the wasps came out of machines.”

“That is correct. They’re called Hive Engines.”

A little girl piped up. “Oh that. We saw one of those.”

“What?” Sleipnir exclaimed. “Where?”

“We were playing on the dirigible deck and the footmen said we had to go. But we hid and we saw them unloading this big thing they called a Hive Engine.” She pointed towards Agatha. “They unloaded her too. She and her booooyyfriend were on stretchers.”

Everyone looked at Agatha expectantly. She nodded. “There was a Hive Engine in Dr. Beetle’s lab. I guess they brought it here.”

Zâmî looked upset. “A Hive Engine? In the middle of a town? What was this Dr. Beetle thinking?”

One of the black-clad servants suddenly appeared at his elbow. “Such talk is not for younger ears. Off with you.” To the obvious disappointment of the younger children, the older group moved off down the hall.

“I… I don’t know what he was thinking,” Agatha admitted. “About anything.”

Sleipnir broke in, “What is the Baron thinking bringing it here?”

Nicodeamus proclaimed, “The Baron can handle anything.”

The others looked at him. He shrugged. “Mostly.”

Meanwhile Theo had gotten a faraway look in his eyes. “So— Where would this Hive Engine be, do you think?”

Sleipnir looked at him askance. “The Large Dangerous Mechanical Lab would be my guess. Why?”

“Well… I’ve never seen a Hive Engine, now have I?”

Sleipnir wheeled around and prodded his chest with a finger. “You want to go sneaking into one of the Baron’s labs? Even after what happened to you the last time?”

Theo looked at her blankly. “Well… Yeah.”

Sleipnir did a quick jig. “Sweet! Let’s go!”

“What exactly did happen to you the last time?” Agatha asked.

“Oh never you mind that, Agatha,” said Sleipnir. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Plus,” pointed out Nicodeamus, “she’s the only one who knows what this thing looks like.”

Agatha felt a sudden tug at her skirt. Looking down, she saw Itto standing defiantly. “I want to come too,” he announced.

Theo shook his head. “Forget it, Itto. You’re too young. Von Pinn would kill me.”

“I won’t tell her!”

“No! You stay here.”

With that the group moved off. Agatha’s last view of Itto was of the youngster sullenly kicking a table leg. Once around the corner, she hurried to catch up to Sleipnir. “You can’t tell me that we can just waltz into one of the Baron’s labs.”

Sleipnir winked. “You’d be surprised. Most of the labs aren’t that well guarded.”

Zâmî nodded. “The Baron is most careful about who gets onto the Castle in the first place.”

“And getting off is even harder,” Nicodeamus added.

“Besides,” Theo pointed out, “we’re not going to walk in through the front door. There’s lots of ways—” He was interrupted by Agatha, who had stopped dead and put a finger to her lips. The others stopped and, a second later, a small figure slipped around the corner they had just turned and ran straight into Agatha’s waiting hands.

“ITTO!” Frantically the boy tried to break free from Agatha. Theo’s hand descended onto his shoulder. “You were told not to come.”

Agatha looked slightly relieved. “I’ll just take him back—”

Sleipnir shook her head. “Oh no, he’s coming with us now.”

Itto punched the air. “Yes!”

“BUT—”Sleipnir continued to the boy, “if you get infected by a Slaver wasp, we’ll have to kill you.”

Itto’s eyes got huge behind his goggles. “What?”

Sleipnir looked sad. “Sure, and I’d hate to do it. So whatever you do, don’t open your mouth. Understand?”

Itto nodded frantically and clapped a hand over his mouth.

They moved off in silence, twisting and turning through corridors until Theo stopped before an unobtrusive door. Reaching into his vest, he pulled out a large bunch of keys. He flipped through them, selected one and delicately probed the lock. A quick twist, a muffled thunk, and the door swung open. With a flourish, he bowed them into a small antechamber lined with maintenance lockers. Against the far wall was a metal ladder that ascended into the darkness. He lightly grasped the ladder to feel for the vibrations that would indicate that it was in use, and felt nothing. He nodded in satisfaction and turned to the others, his face serious. “This is an access ladder to one of the lighting maintenance platforms. Once we get up there, move slowly and gently, they’re not made to take a lot of extra weight.” He looked directly at Itto. “And above all, keep quiet.”

From behind his hand, Itto grunted an acknowledgement.

When Agatha’s turn came, she stepped onto the ladder, and with a sigh of resignation, began climbing. Eventually she joined the others on a small metal platform dominated by an enormous arc-light. The air was sweltering, as the great light put out heat like a furnace, and the platform shivered unnervingly whenever anyone stepped too heavily. It looked out upon a large cavernous room, lined with workbenches and machinery. Agatha noticed however that there were also racks of weapons to hand, as well as excessive amounts of fire fighting equipment, medical supplies and large mobile barriers. Also standing about the room were some of the large creatures that Agatha had seen in the corridor. The domes that occupied the place where their heads should have been gleamed under the arc-lights.

Sleipnir noticed the direction of Agatha’s gaze. “Those are Radioheads,” she whispered. “The Baron acquired them from some madlad he had to put down in Albania a few years ago. He figured if he could build fighters without brains, they wouldn’t get scared or feel pain or worry about dyin’. The Baron doesn’t use them off the Castle, because they creep people out too much.”

“But… If they don’t have a brain, how can they do anything?” Sleipnir directed Agatha’s attention to a group of uniformed women that were on a small balcony on another wall of the vast chamber. All of the women were lined up, peering at the room below them. They seemed relaxed, and Agatha could hear their voices as they idly chatted amongst themselves. A flash of reflection made Agatha realize that each of them was wearing a small glass dome atop their heads as well.

Sleipnir continued, “Each one of them controls a Radiohead. Like a puppeteer, except it’s permanent.”

Agatha shivered. “Those poor girls.”

“Don’t feel sorry for them. The Baron’s offered to free them from the connection, but not one of them took him up on it. They’re happy the way things are.”

Agatha blinked. She was spared having to reply by Theo touching her arm. “Agatha, is that the Hive Engine?” He whispered. She followed his finger and was startled to see that the device was almost directly below them. Within its thick glass shell, the now familiar disturbing shapes slowly roiled in the thick green liquid.

“Yes, that’s it.” A trio of figures emerged from a doorway and approached the sphere. “Isn’t that the Baron?”

Everyone else froze. “Yes it is,” whispered Theo in a strangled voice. “Now shhhh!”

On the floor below, the Baron walked around the vast sphere, examining it closely. Following him were two of his oldest assistants, Dr. Vg and Mr. Rovainen. Vg was a tall, whipcord-sleek Asian of indeterminate sex. Mr. Rovainen was a short, shambling figure who was swathed in thick bandages, goggles and a voluminous coat. The bits of him that were exposed, glistened with a soft nacreous sheen. Mr. Rovainen had not shaken hands with anyone in years.

Klaus stopped and faced them. “So. Your preliminary analysis?”

Mr. Rovainen spoke in a wet, buzzing voice. “It is definitely the work of the Other, Herr Baron.” He slowly rubbed his bandaged hands together. “A viable Hive Engine—after all this time. Fascinating.”

Vg broke in angrily. “No, terrifying! I strongly recommend we put it on a fast ship and drop it into the nearest volcano. There is nothing we can learn that is worth the risk presented by having this thing aboard the Castle.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “Really. Then you can already tell me whether this device is indeed eighteen years old or brand new.”

Shocked, the two scientists glanced at each other and then wheeled about to stare anew at the slumbering engine. Mr. Rovainen coughed wetly. “My apologies, Herr Baron. Not yet.”

On the platform, the students were straining to hear what was being said. “It’s smaller than I thought,” Theo murmured.

“What are they saying?” Nicodeamus muttered.

“What if the Slaver wasps escape?” whimpered Itto.

“Then all we have to do is run faster than you,” Sleipnir replied.

Looking slightly ill, Itto backed away from the edge of the platform. Suddenly he noticed a pale lump on an adjoining ledge. The lump rippled. Itto felt his throat close in terror. The lump moaned softly and extended a pale protuberance. Itto backed up

until he ran into Sleipnir.

“Wa… wa…” he moaned.

“Itto? What is it?” The lump reared itself upwards and a pair of gleaming eyes opened.

“WHAAAAASSSPP!” Itto screamed and scrambled over the others, throwing them into confusion. The large white cat that had been slumbering on the platform bolted off into the darkness. Suddenly there was a loud CRACK! and the platform began to move. It tipped forward sharply. Agatha grabbed for the wall and snagged an exposed ring bolt. Her arms twinged as the platform stopped with a jerk, but suddenly everyone screamed as they felt the floor begin to buckle. With a groan, and a snapping of restraining bolts, the great arc-light swayed forward, flared, went out, and with a slow twist, pulled free from its restraints and fell over the side.

Agatha and the others watched in horror as the plummeting light smashed into the Hive Engine, knocking it off of its pedestal. The massive sphere hit the ground and began to roll directly towards the three startled scientists. Dr. Vg and Mr. Rovainen stared at the looming engine, spun and ran shrieking. Klaus sighed and sidestepped the great sphere while scanning the upper reaches of the room.

“Who’s up there?” he yelled. “Are you all right?”

Above him, Theo pulled Sleipnir off of the swaying platform. “We are so dead,” the girl moaned.

“Only if they catch us,” Theo reminded her. “Now come on!” All of the others were already scrambling down the ladder.

The door to the lab burst open and a group of Lackya flowed in and surveyed the situation.

On the floor, a squad of Radioheads had rushed forward and brought the great sphere to a stop. A swath of crushed lab equipment showed its path through the room. In the corner where they’d trapped themselves, Vg and Rovainen realized that they were clutching at each other and hastily disengaged.

One of the footmen appeared next to the Baron. “Is it an emergency, Herr Baron?”

“No, no, the engine hadn’t been activated.” He pointed upwards. “There are some students on that light platform. Bring them to me.”

In another corridor, the students were moving as quickly as they could without attracting suspicion. Theo was in the lead. “If we can just get out of this sector—”

“WAIT!” Agatha’s shout brought them all up short. She pointed at a small figure running back the way they’d come. “It’s Itto! He’s running the wrong way! We’ve got to get him!”

Sleipnir caught hold of Agatha’s sleeve. “Not to worry! The footmen will catch him and they’ll bring him back to the dorm unharmed. Von Pinn would destroy anyone who hurt him.”

Agatha looked confused. “Then… why are we running?”

Theo put a hand on both girls’ shoulders and pushed them along. “Itto is too young. We, on the other hand, will be put on grease trap duty for life. Again.”

“That’s bad, is it?”

“RUN!”

Back in the lab, the Baron looked up from a pile of debris to see a squad of footmen approaching. They stepped aside to reveal the terrified figure of Itto in their midst. The Baron looked askance at the leader. “This is all you caught?”

“So far, Herr Baron. Though he does say that he was alone.”

Klaus scowled. “Yes, that’s what I would expect the son of Jurgen Wheelwright to say.”

The boy spoke up. “It… It was all my fault, Herr Baron.”

“I expect it was. Why were you here?”

“I wanted to see a Hive Engine, sir. Everyone knows the story about how you defeated a dragon from Mars that captured Lucrezia Mongfish and spit out Slaver wasps and turned her into Von Pinn and I wanted to see what could do that.”

Klaus’ jaw snapped shut. A massive hand thoughtfully rubbed his nose, incidentally concealing a smile. “I’d have given a lot to see that myself,” he conceded. He turned serious and leaned down until his face was inches from Itto’s. “You will never mention to Mistress Von Pinn how she used to be Lucrezia Mongfish. She wouldn’t like it. She wouldn’t like it at all. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Herr Baron,” the boy whispered.

“Good.” The Baron straightened up. “You will now assist me in sorting out this mess.” Itto looked astonished, then quickly snapped to attention. “Yes sir, Herr Baron!”

Klaus nodded. “And while you’re working, tell me this story.” Itto took a deep breath, but Klaus held up his hand and turned to the waiting footmen. “Katz? Tell the Blue Level Kitchen Master that young DuMedd is on grease trap duty until further notice.”

The footman smirked and bowed slightly. “Yes, Herr Baron.” Klaus’ voice caught him broadside as he straightened up. “As is your entire squad if you fail to catch him and his companions!”

Katz gave a strangled “glurk!” and he and his squad swirled out of the room and were gone.

“Theo? I hear people running.”

Sleipnir slumped against a wall, panting. “I think we’re goin’ down, boyo.”

“What we need is a place to hide.” They rounded a corner. Theo brightened. “Wait! I know where we are! That’s an empty lab! Come on!”

“What if someone is in it?” Agatha asked.

“Relax!” Theo said as he pulled out his keys. “We’ll use the old ‘Mimmoth Catcher’ routine. It works every time!”

The keys proved unnecessary, as the door was unlocked. Theo straightened his outfit, ran a hand through his hair, and briskly knocked three times before quickly opening the door. “Excuse us,” he sang out, “mimmoth exterminators. Don’t let us disturb—” He stopped dead.

Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, who had been hauling the twisted remains of his flying machine up onto a massive workbench, paused, hanging onto the pulley chain with a nostalgic look upon his face. “Wow. Does that ever take me back.” He eyed the frozen Theo. “You’re in trouble. You need a place to hide. Probably from my father.” His lip curled. “I should have known none of you would talk to me unless you needed something.”

Theo glared. “Well if you hadn’t told Von Pinn that you were too busy to see anyone—”

Gil looked surprised. “What?”

Theo plowed on: “You’re obviously far too important to associate with us anymore, so we’ll just—” As he turned away, Gil grabbed Theo’s arm. Theo tried to shrug him off and found instead that he couldn’t move his arm at all. A startled glance at Gil’s facade showed the faraway look that meant his brain was racing.

He focused on Theo. “Did you get any of my letters?”

Theo blinked. “No,” he said slowly. “Did you get any of ours?”

He then hissed in pain at the viselike grip on his arm as a look of fury filled Gil’s face. “Someone was intercepting them” he growled. “I don’t know who, or how, but I will!” Suddenly his face cleared and he noticed Theo’s distress. He released his arm. “How many of you are there?”

“Um, five.”

“Right! Into the cracking vat, I’ll get the rest!”

He swung open the door to reveal the astonished face of Sleipnir. “Gil!”

“Sleipnir! We’ll talk later! Everybody into the vat!”

Sleipnir took a step into the lab and then stopped dead. “Whoof! What is that smell?”

“Ah! There’s this girl, a Miss Clay—”

He turned and found himself face to face with a furious Agatha who grabbed his shirtfront and shook him like a terrier shaking a rat. “I have had quite enough of your public opinions about how I smell, Herr Wulfenbach!” She snarled, and so saying, she hauled off and smacked him across the face. “I’ll face that Von Pinn again before I take any help from you!”

Before the stunned young man could say anything, she was off down the corridor at a dead run.

“No! Wait!” Gil pulled himself to the doorway. “Because of your redesign of the engine—” She was gone. He turned to Theo, who had an amused look on his face. “Because of her redesign, I can use this great new fuel additive, but it really stinks and I—”

Theo patted him on the shoulder. “You still have that fine touch with the ladies, I see.” The others grinned.

“GET IN THE VAT!” Gil snapped

Agatha stomped along muttering to herself. “—and then we’ll see how he likes smelling that! Get me to a chemical lab and I’ll brew up something that will make that pompous jerk wish he’d never been born!”

Having got that off of her chest, Agatha surfaced from her thoughts, took note of her surroundings and stopped dead. She was in a dimly lit side corridor. A part of her brain had noted that there had been fewer and fewer people in the corridors she had passed through, and for some time now, she had traveled alone. She briefly considered turning around, but rationalized that as she had no idea where she was, retracing her steps could only aid any lingering pursuers.

She pushed on, through long winding corridors lined with sealed and locked hatchways, and the occasional large space filled with enigmatic machinery, which hissed and gurgled as she passed. There were no signs, no labels, and nobody else. Initially she would have avoided another person, but now she was actively calling out, trying to find anyone at all. At yet another unlabeled crossways, she stopped and glared at where, logically, a sign should have been.

“This is ridiculous. Somebody must come through here.” No one, however, conveniently did so.

She passed a series of open store-rooms. Dimly lit vaults full of drums and bales. She turned a corner and saw a light wink out from a doorway halfway down the long corridor. Someone was here! Agatha broke into a run and called out, “Hello? Please wait, I’m lost. Hello?” But there was no answer, and indeed, no sign of anyone when she reached the doorway in question.

“I know I saw a light,” Agatha muttered to herself. She reached around and found the power switch in the usual place and threw it. There was a snap, and the room filled with the harsh white glare of the overhead lamps. Agatha was taken aback. This light was different from the dimmer, more golden light she’d seen. The room was filled with giant spools containing bolts of the crusty, metallic fabric that sheathed Castle Wulfenbach. There was no sound. Agatha felt herself beginning to get annoyed. She stepped in and looked around. The idea that she had been mistaken never entered her head. She came to the end of an aisle of spools, turned, and stared.

Laid out on the floor of the aisle was a collection of debris that was obviously out of place. Such untidiness was doubly shocking after the neatness and order that was rigorously maintained everywhere else aboard the great airship. Agatha was about to go when she noticed that in the middle of the pile was a large ship’s lamp. On a hunch, she went over to it and gently touched the metal hood, snatching her hand back at the heat. There was someone here!

Quickly she stood and looked about. She took a step and noticed the ringing sound her foot made upon the deck. She’d heard nothing like that as she approached, so unless the mysterious garbage collector was wearing naught but socks upon their feet, there was nowhere else to go but—

Agatha whipped her head upwards, causing the large white cat that was watching her to jump upwards in surprise.

She puffed a lock of hair out of her face in annoyance, and looked back at the objects at her feet. She looked again. Odd, from here, it was obvious that the objects were not haphazardly strewn about. They had been laid out quite deliberately. A book caught her eye. It was an open comb-bound manual. Upon examination, Agatha realized that it was an instruction manual for flying one of Castle Wulfenbach’s small inspection airships. Excitement seized her. This was exactly what Agatha needed! She examined the line drawings that showed the airship controls. They looked fairly simple and—

Agatha paused, looked again at the debris on the floor, and then re-examined the drawing in the book. There was no mistake. Someone had meticulously re-created the control panels out of various found objects. The inference was obvious. Someone else was surreptitiously trying to learn how to fly one of the small airships.

Now Agatha felt conflicted. Yes, she desperately needed to get off of the airship, but here was evidence that someone else had the same need. Who knew what their reasons were. She thought fiercely for a moment, hugging the book to her chest. Then she spoke up. “I need to get off of this airship,” she said loudly. Her voice echoed through the vast room. She listened intently, but heard nothing. “My parents need me, and the Baron won’t let me help find them. This book, the airship instruction manual, will help me get off of this ship, so I’m taking it.”

Silence. Agatha noticed that the cat, which had been watching her all this time, was lashing its tail in an agitated manner. “Sorry, kitty,” she said, “I’ll be out of here shortly.” The cat hissed at her.

Agatha again called out, “If you still need this book, speak up now, and we can work together. My companion and I just need to get down to the ground safely. Your reasons are your own.”

Again there was nothing.

“Okay. I’ve done my best.” However she still had a twinge of guilt as she tucked the book within her jacket. Looking around, half expecting someone to appear at any moment, she exited the room, switching off the light as she did so, and continued down the hallway. Atop the stack of fabric, the cat stared balefully at the doorway and, with a savage swipe of its claws, tore a great rent in the fabric at its feet.

Buoyed by her discovery, Agatha quickly realized that her immediate situation hadn’t really improved. This was driven home by her arrival at yet another desolate, uninformative intersection. She sighed. “I guess I’ll just keep going until I meet somebody or run out of dirigible.”

This decision made, she squared her shoulders, picked a corridor at random and strode off, turned a corner, and came to a blank wall.

She regarded it with disapproval, turned about and marched off, stopping after she had taken two steps. She turned back. “That’s stupid. Why put in a corridor that leads up to a dead end? There must be something here…”

As she glared at the wall, one of the rivets surrounding the edge caught her eye. It looked… different. Experimentally she pushed it, and was rewarded with a dull CHONK noise, and the wall swung open with a faint squeeee.

Agatha grinned, stepped through, and found herself at the lip of a vast pit. She windmilled her arms, barely keeping her balance upon the small ledge that surrounded it.

The room itself was lit by the lights of some odd-looking machinery that lined the far wall. Agatha noted that there was a much larger floor, as well as another door, on the other side, so she was preparing to inch her way around the pit, when a deep booming voice addressed her from the darkness.

“Ah! You must be the Villain’s Beautiful But Misguided Daughter!” She almost lost her balance again.

When she had stabilized herself, she looked up. Agatha saw a large burly man suspended over the pit by an excessive number of chains. A vast complex of devices were attached to various points on his head, and an obvious bomb had been attached to his feet. He smiled at Agatha engagingly. “You’re just in time!”