Agatha H. and the Airship City

Agatha cleared the last of the shops and angled across the greensward that circled the walls of Transylvania Polygnostic University, and towards the great front gates and the cyclopean figure that guarded them.

Mr. Tock was the largest mechanical construct anyone had ever seen, and was still considered the Tyrant’s greatest feat of engineering to date. It towered almost twenty meters high. The great clock in his chest was the timepiece the town set its watches by. As intricately decorated as the smaller clanks that comprised the city Watch, but infinitely deadlier. It appeared to move slowly, but this was an illusion brought about by its great size. Those who had underestimated its fighting ability had done so to their regret. Tock had been known to single- handedly quash several small rebellions, one (admittedly poorly organized) army, and an invasion of giant slugs, an event nobody ever wanted to talk about, especially over dinner.

Each year the various schools within the University vied for the honor of polishing the behemoth for its quarterly parade through and around the town, and as a result, his brass exterior gleamed in the morning sun.

As Agatha approached, the glowing blue eyes swiveled down at her, and a plume of steam puffed out from his upper lip, much like an old man puffing out his moustache before speaking. Its great metallic voice tolled out across the grounds: “IDENTIFY YOURSELF.” Agatha groaned. Students were expected to be within the gates by a certain time.

“Mr. Tock, it’s me! You’ve seen me every day for eleven years! I’m late and—”

“IDENTIFY OR BE—”

“Agatha Clay! Student 8734195!”

“WORKING…”

“Come on.”

“WORKING…”

“Come ON!”

“WORKING…”

“Oh please come on!”

“ACCEPTED. ENTER STUDENT.” The great feet began to shuffle aside, and then, maddeningly, paused. “YOU ARE… LATE.”

“I KNOW!” Agatha screamed and darted past the giant.

The T.P.U. campus was a large complex, and the building Agatha was aiming for was near its center. Clusters of students talked together, many of them discussing the electrical phenomenon of that morning. Several groups were disrupted by Agatha cannoning through them at full speed, leaving nothing but a barely heard “Late!” fading behind her.

Agatha was a familiar figure on the campus, and many of the students simply rolled their eyes at her retreating back. Agatha would have been astonished, and rather appalled, to know that she was the subject of many a speculation. Most of those who tried to strike up a conversation with her were put off by her odd behavior, the more persistent or outspoken found themselves hauled in and given a quiet talk by university officials. Agatha Clay was the Tyrant’s assistant and thus Off Limits. This, of course, only added fuel to the speculative fires.

As she approached the massive stone edifice that was Laboratory Number One, the door-clank swung the great bronze portal open in time for her to dart through. Helpfully, it informed her that she was late, eliciting a howl of despair.

Finally she slammed through the blast doors into the Central Laboratory and clung to a railing and gasped as she caught her breath. Below her, on the main floor, Dr. Hugo Glassvitch turned away from a humming device and mildly remarked, “Mademoiselle Clay? You’re late.”

“I KNOOOOOWW!”

The doctor picked himself up off the floor in time to find his arms full of a sobbing Agatha. “You’re only a little late,” he said comfortingly.

“My locket! Oh, Doctor, they stole my locket!” Quickly she filled him in on what had happened that morning. “It had the only pictures I have of my parents and it belonged to my mother and now it’s gone!”

Dr. Glassvitch looked surprised. “I didn’t know that. You never showed—”

Agatha interrupted. “My uncle gave it to me before he went away. He made me promise to never take it off and now it’s gone and he’ll be disappointed in me again and he’ll… he’ll never come back because I’m… I’m stupid and damaged!” To Glassvitch’s horror, she slid to her knees and began to sob even louder. “Why? Why can’t I do anything right? What’s wrong with meeeee?”

“Agatha! Mon Dieu!” Agatha only sobbed louder. Glassvitch’s specialty was chemical engineering, which minimized his experience with hysterically sobbing young ladies. Up until now, that had seemed like a perk, but now he realized he had no idea what to do. He cast about desperately and his eye fell upon a bulge in Agatha’s greatcoat pocket. “Agatha!” He gently shook her shoulder. “Show me your latest machine!”

Agatha’s cries stopped as if a switch had been thrown. She blinked up at Glassvitch through her tears. “My machine?”

“Oui!” Glassvitch patted her pocket. “Your petite clank? Does it work?”

Agatha got to her feet and smoothed down her skirt. “I… I don’t know.” She pulled the little device out of the pocket. It looked like an excessively large brass pocket watch. She wound the stem at the top as she talked. “I… I wanted to show it to you before I showed it to the Master.”

Glassvitch nodded encouragingly. “Ah. Good idea. We don’t want to waste his time, eh? Let’s see it.”

“All right.” Agatha smiled nervously at him and placed the device on a lab bench. Her index finger hovered for an instant, and then pushed down the stem with a sudden click. Immediately, the sound of gears grinding emanated from within. The device shuddered and a small dome on the face snapped up, revealing a crude eye that jerkily surveyed its surroundings. With a lurch, a pair of legs unfolded from the bottom and it shakily stood, then took an uncertain step forward. Suddenly, the ticking of the gears ended with a Poink! A horrible grinding rattle came from the little device and it began to shake uncontrollably. Its single eye rolled up out of sight, the body twisted violently and exploded in a shower of tiny gears and springs that sent half of the body casing shooting past a startled Agatha and Glassvitch and out through a window pane. The remaining small bits showered down throughout the room.

Agatha looked at her shoes and whispered, “Sorry. I… I was so sure…”

Glassvitch shrugged and patted her shoulder. “Well, at least this one actually moved before it blew up. That is improvement, no?”

Agatha looked up at him in surprise. She opened her mouth—

“I should have guessed.”

The two flinched and turned. At the door stood the Tyrant’s second in command, Dr. Silas Merlot. A small, thin, elderly man who owed his current position not to the Spark, but to procedural brilliance and a dogged perseverance in his work. He was rubbing his head and clutching the piece of Agatha’s device that had shot out the window. Agatha groaned mentally. Dr. Merlot hardly needed this additional excuse to cause her trouble.

Dr. Glassvitch smiled. He was one of the few friends the cranky scientist had, and often interceded on Agatha’s behalf. “Good Morning, Dr.—”

Merlot interrupted him. “I don’t know why you encourage her, Glassvitch, we have enough problems today.”

“Problems?”

“Baron Wulfenbach is here.”

The smile drained from Glassvitch’s face. “WHAT? He’s early! Weeks early! We’re not ready!”

“He’s with the Master, if you’d care to complain.”

“No! I meant… What do we do?”

“We’ve got to remove all traces of the Master’s project from the secondary labs. Miss Clay, get this lab cleaned up. You’ve got half an hour.”

Agatha started and looked wildly around the lab. It was a rat’s nest of equipment and papers strewn about the room. The Master always demanded that it remain untouched during an ongoing project. “Cleaned up? By myself? In half an hour? This room is a disaster area!”

Merlot narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be impertinent with me, Miss Clay. The Master may derive some twisted amusement from your pathetic antics, but if this lab is anything less than spotless, you’ll see how patient Baron Wulfenbach is with incompetents. Now move!”

As the two scientists hurried to the secondary lab, Glassvitch frowned. “Silas… there’s no need to frighten