Agatha H. and the Airship City

“Me!”

“Me!”

“Me!”

“ME!”

Gil stepped into the middle and roared. “Shut up! I’ll do it!”

The Jagermonsters looked abashed. “Vell hyu dun gotta get cranky over it,” one muttered. Gil knelt down and gently picked Agatha up.

Instantly the tractor clank lurched to life and the great metal hand flashed out towards an astonished Gil, who felt himself jerked backwards as a Jagersoldier swept him away. The hand plowed into the monster soldier, throwing him back against the far wall, where he slumped to the floor. Gil managed to keep both his balance and Agatha in his arms as he hit the floor. The smoking device wheeled towards him. “Clanks!” He yelled, “Contain it!”

The two tall Wulfenbach clanks rushed in through the doorway and plowed into the side of the engine, slamming it against the wall. But after a second the greater weight of the more primitive engine allowed it to gain better traction, and it slowly began to force itself back up despite the best efforts of the two other machines. Gil circled around, heading for the rear of the rogue engine. “If I can get to the control unit—”

Then one of the Jagers yelled, “Stend beck!” Gil glanced back and froze in horror. Three of the Jagermonsters had manhandled one of the Wulfenbach clank’s massive three-meter machine cannons into firing position. “I alvays vanted to try dis,” one shouted.

“NOOOO!!” screamed Gil, even as he dived for the floor, desperately trying to shield Agatha.” With a roar that was only magnified by the enclosed space, a stream of shells poured forth, the first few indeed hit the struggling clank, but the rest sprayed wildly around the room. The stream of fire stabilized only long enough to completely demolish one of the Wulfenbach clanks before the shooting stopped.

Gil dared to look up and saw that the recoil of the cannon had smashed the Jager manning the trigger, as well as the last quarter of the gun itself, into the wall. The other two, their clothing on fire and their hats in tatters, looked sheepish. “Ho! Leedle recoil problem dere, sir.” One of the standing soldiers grinned. “Pretty neat though, jah?”

Meanwhile the iron clank had thrown its lighter opponent into a pile of debris, and as the Wulfenbach clank struggled to regain its feet, swiveled about and, despite a shattered leg joint, again headed for the two humans. “The control unit on the back,” Gil yelled, “you must be sure to—”

The other remaining Jager grabbed his gun. “Hoy! Got’cha!”

Circling around behind the crippled machine, he scrambled atop some boxes and launched himself over the stumbling clank. The zenith of his arc carried him over the bullet-shaped control mechanism and as he passed he pointed his weapon downward and fired a charge into it at point blank range. The resulting explosion completely obliterated Gil’s plaintive, “—Not destroy it… never mind.”

The clank and the soldier hit the ground at the same moment, the one to twitch and vent gouts of steam, the other to pose dramatically, to the approbation of his fellows.

The lone note of disapproval came from Gil, but this was turned upon himself. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! My father is going to—”

The leaping Jagermonster looked offended. “Vot did ve do now?”

“Not you, me!”

“Hah?”

Gil kicked at the cooling clank at his feet. “The clank activated to protect its master! Why wasn’t I ready —”

The Jagersoldier interrupted. “But ve got him into de vagon mit no problem. It didn’t move until—ow!” The “ow” was caused by a flying wrench smashing into his nose, thrown by Gunther, who had re-entered the room, clutching a large valise.

“What for you hit me in the nose?”

“Cause you all de time yakking like an eediot!” Gunther pointed towards the corner, where the Wulfenbach clank was still foundering awkwardly amidst the debris. “Get dat clenk op, hyu fools, or do hyu vanna pull de vagon tro de strits?” That caused the rest of the monsters to quickly begin hauling the great clank back to its feet.

Gil ignored this interplay, as he was struck motionless by the thoughts triggered by the logic of the Jagermonster’s words. With a quick shake of his head, he dismissed the idea. His father had said—

“Hey, hyu gun carry dat gurl all day?”

With a start Gil realized that he was clutching the unconscious girl tightly in his arms. He looked up into the leering face of Gunther. Awkwardly he handed her over and, lost in his thoughts, failed to notice the excessive care with which the old soldier placed her in the wagon and covered her up with Moloch’s coat. “Ve’s ready to go, sir,” he announced.

Gil looked up. “Pick one of you to wait here for the owners and the crews to collect the clanks.” He glanced over at the steaming ruin. “We might still be able to learn something. When the owners get here, have them lock the place up and bring them to me. Assure them we’ll pay for any damages.”

After the inevitable game of sock-paper-scissors, the Jager who had allowed himself to be socked slouched against the doorway rubbing his nose as the wagon began to roll out.

Gil suddenly yelled, “Stop!” The Jagers looked at him in surprise as he scrambled aboard the wagon and bent over the two unconscious figures. Gently he lifted Agatha’s hands and examined them closely. Though she had scrubbed them, there were still ample amounts of grease and oil under her fingernails and embedded within the lines of her palms.

A similar inspection of Moloch’s hands revealed grime, yes, but no evidence that the owner had recently worked with heavy machinery.

Thoughtfully, Gil climbed back out of the wagon. After a moment he indicated that it was to move on without him. Gunther protested, “Hyu poppa vould skeen us alife! Und I dun meen dat in a goot vay.”

“What would he do if he found out you’d assigned him guards after he told you not to?” The two appraised each other. Gil waved his hand. “I’m just going to walk a bit behind. You can keep an eye on me.” Gunther nodded reluctantly and the wagon started off.

As they pulled ahead of Gil, Gunther whispered fiercely to the others, “Dun mention notting about dis mawnink. Not de fonny schmells, not the clenk schtarting op, notting! Dis iz schtoff for de generals.”

The others looked surprised. “Hokay.” they agreed. Gunther nodded in satisfaction and looked at the young man following the wagon, a look of concentration on his features. The young master was going to be trouble enough.

CHAPTER 4

Hide the women! Hide the beer!

The Baron’s great big thing is here!

It’s huge and fat and long and round

And you can see it from the ground.

It flies way high up in the air

He rides it here, he rides it there.

And every mad boy lives in fear

That Klaus will stick it in his ear.

—Popular tavern song