Agatha H. and the Airship City

—Traditional children’s song

“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