Agatha H. and the Airship City (28 page)

“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 moment, 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.”

A pair of booted feet sticking out from a shadowed chair uncrossed themselves and Bangladesh DuPree leaned forward. “Well of course. They’re kids. They want to fight! It’s fun!”

Von Pinn swiveled and glared at the seated woman. “I teach restraint.”

DuPree eyed the leather-clad form and grinned. “So your dressmaker’s an ‘A’ student then?”

Von Pinn hissed and DuPree slowly began to rise from her chair, her grin even wider. “You’re losing air, sweetheart,” she crooned.

The two jerked upright as Klaus’ voice snapped out. “Enough!” Crisply Klaus gave orders and assigned positions. With a rush, the soldiers left to implement his orders. Klaus turned to an airman who had been patiently waiting off to the side.

“Present Captain Patel with my compliments and tell him to continue the evacuation. If he does not hear from myself or my son in two hours, or if the wheelhouse is about to fall, he is to scuttle the Castle.” The airman looked nervous, but his voice was steady as he repeated back the orders, saluted and left.

Klaus turned back. His group consisted of General Goomblast, Bangladesh, Boris, and a squad equally composed of Jägers, Lackya and Castle Wulfenbach’s own marines. He patted his greatsword and for the first time, grinned. “Let us take some exercise.”

Agatha was running flat out down the hallway. She was glancing behind her when she took a corner and smacked into Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. “Miss Clay! Are you all right? Ow.”

Gil was the first one to move, but it was Agatha who hauled him to his feet. “No! Slaver wasps! Coming fast!”

A look of loathing crossed Gil’s face. “That cursed Hive Engine! What was Beetle
thinking?”

Unsteadily, they broke into a trot towards the exit. “What were
you
thinking?” snapped Agatha. “How did you get in here?”

They turned the corner and skidded to a stop. Before them a tide of small machines ran to meet them, swarming around Agatha’s feet, producing a noise that sounded suspiciously like small, tinny cheers. “Your little clanks,” Gil explained. “They opened the door. They’re amazing.”

Agatha felt a surge of hope. “That’s great! Then we can leave!”

She turned to run, but Gil grabbed her arm and hauled her in a different direction. “No,” he explained, “I had them seal the door behind us. I didn’t know what was in here.”

“Then… then we’re trapped!” She glanced back and slowed at what she saw. “Wait—my little clanks can’t keep up.”

Again Gil jerked her forward. “They’ll catch up, and they’re in no danger. It’s us the wasps want. Now hurry! My main lab is just ahead. If I can seal it off, we can wait for my father.”

They turned another corner, but outside the lab doors, they saw several of the insect creatures freeze briefly, and then scuttle rapidly towards them.

With an oath, Gilgamesh steered them into the first room they found and slammed the door behind them. They looked around, panting. The room was bare of furniture, but was lined with shelves, cabinets and bins filled with racks of various devices.

“This is your electrical parts storage locker,” Agatha noted.

Gil finished securing the door to a sturdy rack of shelves with a coil of heavy-duty cable. As he stepped back, the door shuddered as something slammed into it from the other side. “That might do,” he muttered. “But we’ve no time to waste.”

“But we should be okay now, right?” Agatha looked around with interest. “Once we equip ourselves from your arsenal, those things shouldn’t stand a chance.”

Gil looked blank. “My what?”

“Your weapons. The stuff you’ve built.” Agatha rubbed her hands together in gleeful anticipation. “I wondered where they were. So any chance of a good Death Ray? That’d be perfect!”

Gil looked appalled. “I don’t have a Death Ray!”

Agatha blinked. “What, it’s an early prototype or something?”

“I don’t have a Death Ray.”

A sudden realization filled Agatha. She blushed in sympathy and with a gentle smile she placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sure that next time you’ll build a much bigger one, but trust me, right now any Death Ray, will do, no matter how—”

“I. DO. NOT. HAVE. A. DEATH. RAY!” Gil shouted.

Agatha stared at him in disbelief, and with an exasperated puff blew a lock of hair out of her face. “Don’t be ridiculous. Dr. Beetle had stuff like that all over the place. You must have something.” She scratched her nose. “Sonic Cannon?”

“No.”

“Disintegration Beam?”

“No.”

“You must have some sort of Doomsday Device. We can modify it. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“I don’t have
anything
like that!”

They stared at each other.

“Fine. So what you’re telling me is that you—Gilgamesh Wulfenbach—the person next in line to the despotic, iron-fisted rule of the Wulfenbach Empire—have no deadly, powerful weapons lying around whatsoever! That’s just great! What kind of an Evil Overlord are you going to be, anyway?”

“Apparently a better one than I’d thought,” Gil said, suddenly thoughtful.

Suddenly, with a series of sharp thuds, a swordlike arm punched its way through the door. It was joined by several others, and using the opening, rapidly expanded it.

A canister of old fencing swords was next to a cupboard. Gil grabbed two and faced off against the wasps struggling to get at them. “Build something!” he ordered Agatha.

“What?”

“I’ll hold them off, you build your own damn Death Ray!”

“But I don’t know how! You should—”

“You can’t fight—but you’re a Spark!”

“But—”

“Or we’ll die—or worse!” With that he turned away from her and sliced away at a wasp that had managed to cram itself through the door.

Agatha backed into a corner. “Got to think.” She gasped as a razor-edged claw sliced through Gil’s boot. Deliberately she turned away. “Got to think!” The noise was becoming overwhelming. It sounded like dozens of creatures hammering and tearing away at the metal door. Sounds became magnified. The sound of sword striking chitin, the smashing of equipment, the slow rending of the metal door, even the slow steady breathing of Gil as he wove a curtain of death before him.

“Too much noise,” Agatha whispered. “I have to think.” And softly at first, then quickly gaining strength, a complicated atonal humming filled the room. Agatha stood stock still for several seconds, and then her head snapped forward, her eyes filled with a furious purpose.

Meanwhile Gil found himself being slowly pushed back by the sheer weight of numbers. It didn’t help that the wasps seemed capable of taking an extraordinary amount of damage before their brain admitted that they were dead, and even in death, they tended to lash out, as the numerous tears ands gashes covering his arms and legs attested to. “I’d better be right about you,” he muttered. One of the swords bent as it hit an internal structure. He was only barely able to wrench it out in time to parry a darting bladelike arm. A wrenching groan was his only warning, but he was able to leap backwards as a section of the ceiling collapsed, raining a fresh wave of Slaver wasps across the floor. Another step backwards and he found himself surrounded by empty canisters, which were just tall enough to hamper his movement. Suddenly his swords were occupied and another bug flashed towards him, its saberlike arms upraised.