Agatha H. and the Airship City

Moloch looked up. “That’s always a good one. Place like this, we could kill a day or two at least before they expect us to produce anything.”

“It’ll work better if you can fake it a bit.” She snatched up a tool from the nearest bench. “Now this, is a wrench.”

Moloch glared at her. “I know it’s a wrench.”

“Ah, but what kind of wrench?

“A 3/17 Occipital Left-Leaning Heterodyne wrench.”

Agatha whipped the wrench up to her face and stared at it. It was. She glared at Moloch. “How did you know that?” she demanded.

Moloch smiled bitterly at her from his chair. “These days, machines are more important than soldiers. If you know how to fix machines, it makes you more valuable.” He stared off into the distance. “My brothers and I, there were nine of us, we crewed this walking gunboat for the Duke D’Omas. Mad as a bag of clams, of course, but it was a good berth. Snappy uniforms, fresh food, and plenty of it, and he paid in gold.” Moloch sighed. “Then it all turned to dung. Wulfenbach blew up the Duke’s mountain and we had to start raiding the countryside to keep the gunship repaired.”

“But why would you do that?”

“Ah, well, you see, the peasants didn’t like the Duke. Which meant they didn’t like us. After the Baron took him down, the gun was the only thing keeping us alive. We figured our best bet was to get out of there, so we headed for Paris. We had to go through Wulfenbach land, sure, but if you keep to the Wastelands and the dead towns, you can travel for days without seeing a soul, which was the plan. But just our luck, we ran into one of the Baron’s patrols, led by this… this crazy woman! We’d have surrendered if she’d asked.” Moloch’s eyes showed that he was far away. “I think Bruno and the kid made it, but I don’t know about anyone else. Nobody but Omar and me. And now it’s just me.”

Agatha placed her hand on his shoulder. “That’s… that’s really rough. I didn’t know.”

Moloch jerked his shoulder away. “Of course you didn’t know.

You’re just a spoiled townie. The big towns are important. They get cleaned up, repaired, disinfected. Not like the rest of the world.” He stalked over to the carboy of cleaning solution and hunted about for another beaker.

Agatha stood behind him. “Oh, that will help.”

Moloch furiously turned upon her. “Get out!”

“But… but the inventory—”

“Screw it. I want to be alone.” He pulled out a beaker and discarded it for being too small. “I’m expected to act like a brooding unstable psychopath? Great. Here’s a chance for me to rack up some extra credit.”

Agatha turned to go, took two steps and then wheeled about. “Now you’re just being stupid.”

Moloch didn’t even look up from his pouring. She continued: “A brooding, unstable psychopath? Fine. But you’ve got to convince the Baron that you’re a brooding unstable psychopath who’s having way too much fun to ever want to leave. They’ve got to see you eager to get to work in this beautiful lab they’ve given you!”

Moloch looked at her and frowned. He harrumphed. “That does make sense,” he admitted. With a sigh, he poured his drink back into the carboy and tossed the beaker into the trash. “Okay. Inventory it is, then.”

They turned and looked at the room. It was a large space, twenty meters square. The main central area was clear, surrounded by benches and work tables. Overhead were lights and a set of winches on motorized tracks. Lining the walls were cabinets and bins filled with various parts, chemicals, tools. The shelves were easily four meters tall. They looked around, but failed to find a ladder.

“Guess we use this a little sooner than I’d thought,” said Moloch as he pressed the bell button.

Less then a minute later, the door opened and an immense man entered. He was over two meters tall and everything about him was proportioned to fit. He wore a gray overall covered in pockets. His head was the thing you looked at, however. His face was open and friendly, but above it was a bald pate that showed the obvious signs of multiple, extensive surgery.

“Hello!” he said in a booming, cheerful voice. “I…” He suddenly appeared to be having trouble remembering something. “I am Dr. Dimitri.”

Moloch and Agatha were surprised. “Doctor?” Moloch exclaimed.

Dimitri nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I am a doctor! Yes I am!”

Moloch smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry we disturbed you, Herr Doctor, I thought we were ringing for an assistant.”

Dimitri beamed and slapped his chest. “Yes! Yes! I am assistant! Yes!”

Moloch and Agatha glanced at each other. Right.

Moloch spoke slowly. “We need a ladder.”

Dimitri brightened. “I will get a ladder! Yes! I could make you a ladder! A giant ladder that will go up to the sky!”

Moloch blinked. “No thanks. Just a regular ladder.”

“Yes! Yes! A ladder that will carry you up and down by itself! I could make that! I could! Up and down and up and down and up and—”

“No, just a regular ladder.”

“Ah! Yes! Yes! I understand! You want it to look like a regular ladder, and when you are at the tippy top, the blades come out and—”

“Enough!” Moloch shouted. Dimitri looked hurt. Moloch turned to Agatha. “Miss Clay, you’d better go with him.” He thought for a moment. “Get us something without blades.”

“I’ll try.” At this Dimitri began to look worried. Agatha looked at him. He reminded her of some of the faculty back at the University. She gently took him by the arm and pulled him out into the corridor. “Okay, Herr Doctor, where do we keep the ladders?”

“But I go! Yes, me!”

“Well I’ll just go with you.” Dimitri looked very worried now, but he reluctantly began to move down the hall. “I don’t understand what the problem is,” said Agatha. “All we want is a ladder.”

Dimitri looked slightly reassured. “Yes, ladder. We just go to get ladder.”

They quickly came to a large door labeled “LABORATORY SUPPLIES.” Dimitri spun the locking wheel and the door eased open, revealing a large dimly lit store-room, neatly crammed with crates and barrels, cans, jars and tools. Agatha quickly spotted a rack of ladders and moved toward it.

“This looks like what we need—” She paused. Hidden behind the ladders, she saw a small, neat cot.

She turned back to Dimitri. “Oh, do you sleep here?” She stopped because the giant’s face was now set in a rictus of fear. She looked back at the bed. There was nothing there, except…

A closer examination revealed a number of small objects. Agatha picked one up… “Why they’re bears!” she exclaimed in delight. “Made from rags! They’re adorable! Did you make these?” So saying she turned back to Dimitri, only to find him huddled upon the floor at her feet, his tear-stained face raised in supplication.

“Please,” he whispered, “please don’t give them to the Baron.”

Agatha looked at the rag doll in her hand. “What, these?”

Dimitri nodded frantically. “Yes, please…”

Agatha gently placed the bear into Dimitri’s trembling hands. “Why would I give them to the Baron? They’re yours.”

The large man clasped the toy to his chest. “Yes! Mine! I made them! Me!”

“But… if the Baron really wanted them, he’d just take them… wouldn’t he?”

At this, Dimitri’s face underwent a startling change. A look of pure determination crept into it, although it obviously took a great deal of effort. “He doesn’t know!” His voice, too, was different. It was a voice that was used to wielding power, but it was obvious that it was power long gone. He jerkily turned