Agatha H. and the Airship City (27 page)

“Why would the Baron care about me?”

“The Baron studies the Spark. One of the ways he studies it is by destroying it. He ‘studied’ my creator, Dr. Vapnoople.” Krosp looked away. “I couldn’t save him, but I have vowed to help save his work, and…”Krosp sighed, “and what’s left of him.” He gave Agatha a look she couldn’t interpret. “And now I must try to save you.”

“But I don’t have the Spark. I seem to have the opposite. Nothing I build even works.”

Krosp signed in exasperation. “What do you think you DO at night?”

Agatha looked wary. “I don’t know. I’m asleep. What
do
I do at night?”

“You build things.”

“But there’s never anything there when I wake up.”

Krosp folded his arms. “They always run away.”

Girl and cat stared at each other for a minute. Finally Agatha said carefully, “Why?” Krosp shifted uncomfortably and looked away. Agatha folded her hands and continued to look at him.

Krosp hunched his shoulders. “I chase them,” he whispered. He looked up at Agatha with lowered ears. “I can’t help it.” Now he looked annoyed. “And I can’t
catch
them.”

Agatha took a deep breath and a new thought struck her. “Othar Tryggvassen, he’s a Spark. Would the Baron really hurt him?”

Krosp considered this. “He’ll destroy his mind, certainly. It might kill him eventually, but I don’t think he’ll go out of his way to
hurt
him—”

“But Othar, he’s supposed to be a good person. He’s helped people. Why would the Baron do that?”

“The Baron sees a bigger picture.” With that, Krosp leapt with surprising grace back atop the armoire. “I’ve got to go.” With a deft motion, he hooked the ventilator grill with a claw and popped it from the wall. Agatha snapped her fingers.

“There’s another one of those under the bed.”

Krosp nodded. “Think about what you want to take, if anything, and keep it with you. Opportunity will dictate our schedule.”

“Wait. If you’re going to rescue someone, rescue Othar. I’ll be fine.”

Krosp’s head looked out at her from the depths of the airshaft. “Othar isn’t my responsibility.” With a muffled
click,
he pulled the cover back into place, and was gone.

Agatha stared at the vent for a moment and then nodded to herself. “Well. Then I guess he’s mine.”

CHAPTER 8

“It is a terrible thing, to see your loved ones moving, and yet know they are dead.”

—Survivor’s report, after the

destruction of the town of Berne

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. Vapnoople?”

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!”