Agatha H. and the Airship City

“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.”