The people before him were a wildly varied lot, but they all shared the distinct look of People Who Got Things Done. Here were representatives from every corner of the Empire: Sparks, minions, mechanics and managers. Some were former enemies. Many were the results of experiments, given freedom, acceptance and purpose.
As they arrived, they clustered into small groups and conversed in hushed tones, waiting for the Doctor to finish her work. The mood was tense. Although quietly engaged with one another, everyone was keeping one eye upon their leader: the center of the Empire, the man who dictated the terms of the Pax Transylvania. With a final warning that he was under no circumstances to “fiddle with the controls,” Doctor Merrliwee snapped her bag shut and stepped back. Klaus cleared his throat, fixing his assembled command staff with a serious gaze. Once they could see that their Baron was alive, alert and back on the job, a palpable wave of relief washed through the room. Everyone straightened up and prepared to deliver his or her reports.
Klaus had witnessed his people’s extreme concern, as well as their obvious relief. Another stone settled onto the mountain of worries that weighed on his soul. The “Pax Transylvania” they called it—and also “The Baron’s Peace.” Everywhere the Wulfenbach Empire had influence, the fearsome battles that had once raged between warring Sparks were kept in check. The influence of the Pax Transylvania stretched from the Atlantic to Istanbul, and yet it was, for all the strength of the Empire, terribly fragile, resting as it did solely upon the shoulders of one man. Klaus had no illusions about the chaos that would ensue if he were to die, and he was still unsure of his son’s ability to share the burden of the Empire.
Ah, but that was a worry for another day. A stream of functionaries filed past, bringing him up to speed on the aftermath of the day’s disastrous events. Klaus listened carefully over the burbling and clucking of the healing engine on his leg, and did his best to project the demeanor of calm authoritarianism that his underlings found most reassuring.
The first report was from Doktor Oy, the minor Spark in charge of the laboratory decks. Oy was accompanied by a squat clank that scooted about upon a single small wheel, clutching a bundle of notes in its manipulators and blinking two large round lensed “eyes” that gave it an owlish look. “Some time between midnight and 2 A.M.,” Oy began, “Someone activated the Hive Engine that my Baron discovered in the possession of the late Doctor Tarsus Beetle. It had been placed in the Large Dangerous Mechanical Lab. Doctor Vg was listed as working late in that lab. So far, we have yet to find Doctor Vg.”
There was a burst of static, and the clank chimed in. “A Hive Engine is just one of the many nefarious devices constructed by The Other, the mysterious uber-Spark who decimated the Great Houses of Europa a generation ago.” Doktor Oy smacked the clank, and with a squeal, it subsided into silence.
Oy looked embarrassed. “Forgive me, Herr Baron, it has a bad habit of assuming that everyone around it is a child.”
Doktor Oy, who had rebuilt his “Moveable File Cabinet and Brain Stimulation Companion” seventeen times, grinned weakly and continued.
“A hive engine of that size is reported to release approximately one hundred warrior wasps. The clean-up crews have reported finding ninety-eight of them. They are still searching, but it appears that we have found them all.”
Oy’s clank once again buzzed to life. “The fight to free Europa from the scourge of The Other supposedly ended over a decade ago, but hive engines and other devices are occasionally still found. This is the first time on record that one has been purposefully activated.” Doktor Oy was frantically slapping at a panel of buttons and switches on the clank’s side, then gave up and pulled a spanner out of his pocket. He incapacitated the mechanism with a single, brutal blow. With an apologetic grin, he dragged it from the room.
Klaus frowned. Oy’s clank had raised an important point. No sane person would have willingly activated a Hive Engine. He had to admit that there were plenty of non-sane personnel aboard Castle Wulfenbach, but there were limits. It was another puzzle, and the answer Klaus kept returning to was extremely troubling.
Also troubling was the ease with which the creatures had nearly overwhelmed Castle Wulfenbach’s defenders. The next man to report was Colonel Chakraborty—the grizzled old veteran who was in charge of onboard security.
Stoically, Chakraborty recited evidence of the probable path the creatures had taken through conduits and service corridors—a route that had allowed them to move around the airship for quite some time before being detected. The fact that the creatures had spread as far and as quickly as they had was inexcusable. Alarms were in place that should have been activated immediately. Sentries that should have been present had somehow been reassigned. Controls had been sabotaged. At the end of his report, the Colonel silently handed the Baron his letter of resignation. Klaus considered it for a moment, and then eyed the Colonel.
“Before I accept this,” he held up the letter, “you have twenty-four hours to explain to me what went wrong.” The Colonel blinked, saluted crisply, and strode off, determined to make someone else’s day very bad indeed.
Next to be called was a creature that closely resembled a gigantic green-furred gorilla. Thick metal bands, a complicated set of goggles that automatically adjusted themselves whenever it moved, and an enormously tall cap—complete with shako—were its only clothing. When the creature spoke, it revealed a mouthful of thick, sharp teeth. This was Sergeant Nak, one of the many constructs who, upon the death of the Spark who created him, had taken service with the Baron. Nak was in charge of the military forces aboard the great airship. This was partly because of the brilliant mind that lay nestled behind those goggles, and partly because he was one of the few creatures that even the most unruly of the Empire’s rag-tag military forces hesitated to fight.
As Nak approached the Baron, he extended a massive paw. Clutched within was a small bunch of flowers, tied with a festive blue bow. A cheerful tag exhorted the reader to “Get Well Soon!”
Klaus looked at this blankly and then forced himself to smile. Sergeant Nak was indeed a terrifying fighting machine, but he was also considerate to a fault. Klaus had noticed that for many people on Castle Wulfenbach, this only served to make Nak more worrying, and so he always made a point of encouraging the green-furred creature’s kind impulses.
Nak’s report was concise. The fighting had been intense, but in the end, the Baron’s forces had prevailed. He gently unfolded a sheet of paper, and emotionlessly read off a list of those killed in the attack. He then read from another list, this time of units which could reasonably spare soldiers to replace those that had been lost.
The Baron pondered this for a moment, and made a few suggestions. Sergeant Nak saluted and shambled off.
Mister Rovainen, one of Klaus’ army of laboratory assistants, had performed the examination of the dead Slaver Wasp Queen. He held his report in one of his perpetually bandage-wrapped hands, but never bothered to look at it.
“The device was constructed at least seventeen years ago, and was no doubt launched in one of the original attacks.” Mr. Rovainen’s voice was thick, and rasped with a buzz that made listeners want to clear their own throats.
This information piqued the Baron’s interest. “How were you able to determine that?” Mr. Rovainen seemed to hunch deeper within his voluminous coat. “Doctor Vg. Before disappearing... Vg proposed a comparison test. Using brine crystallization rates. Vg...” Klaus could see that Rovainen was upset over the disappearance of his colleague. This was understandable, since the two had worked together for years. He took a deep phlegm-choked breath before continuing.
“I believe it was the age of the engine that resulted in a glitch in the Queen’s development, causing it to delay the release of the direct slaver swarm.”
A burst of static made everyone jump. Doktor Oy’s owl-eyed clank lurched into the room. “Slavers come in two varieties. The familiar ‘Warrior’ class, and the far smaller ‘slaver’ class. These latter are the creatures that actually infect humans, using a combination of chemical and protean bonding, forcing their victims to become the shambling, mindless creatures colloquially known as Revenants. These revenants become the slaves of The Other. As yet there is no cure—” There was a sudden loud “pop” and the clank exploded into fragments.
Doktor Oy stepped into the room, wild-eyed and clutching a smoking gas gun. “I am so sorry about that, Herr Baron. It’s back to the drawing board, apparently.” He bowed and exited.
There was a stir at the doors, and the assembled staff made way for a newcomer who stood framed in the doorway. The Baron took a deep breath and nodded. His son Gilgamesh strode to his bedside. Klaus nearly smiled, but caught himself just in time. One of the few bright spots in the last twenty-four hours was the widespread
