by Phil Foglio
Oublenmach stirred feebly. “Yes, please,” he moaned.
He was casually pulled forward and then slammed back into the wall. “Shot op, hyu.”
Arella sighed contentedly and sipped from her cup. “No,” she said thoughtfully, “I believe he will be . . . useful.”
Mamma looked at the hanging man skeptically. She sniffed. “Hyu tink so? Ve need rude pipple schtupid enuf to valk into my place vit a gon? Hy already gots clowns, sveetie.” She sighed. “Lots ov dem.”
“Ah, but he wants to ring the Doom Bell. He wants the Hammer.”
Mamma was astonished. She hauled Oublenmach close to her face and stared into his eyes. “Vot? Hyu vants de Hammer?” Each question was accompanied by its own tooth-jarring shake. “De Hammer ve guard? De Hammer vot rings de Doom Bell? De Bell vot iz only rung to announce to de vorld dot de Heterodyne iz here?”
Krasimir realized there was a conversational gap he was actually expected to fill. He tried to think what answer would get him killed quickest and chose—“Yes?”
Less than thirty seconds later he found himself sprawled on the early morning street, a gigantic bronze hammer tossed into his lap. Behind him, the doors to Mamma Gkika’s slammed shut as the proprietress’ resounding laugh echoed from within.
The command center, such as it was, had been established atop one of Mechanicsburg’s taller warehouses. Van surveyed the town with a pair of elaborate night vision binoculars. Near his feet, people came and went. To one side, Herr Diamant smacked his hand to his head in disbelief. “But how the devil could you lose him?” He asked incredulously. “He’s dragging a hammer bigger than he is!”
The hapless man before him shrugged. “Well, the rescue gongs rang and—”
“You did the right thing, Ozker,” Van said without lowering the binoculars. “Besides, we know where he’s going. Now we need people to clear the streets for the firefighters.” Everyone nodded glumly. The great brass fire dragons of Mechanicsburg were capable of navigating rubble and ordinary congestion, but they did poorly when actually being shot at.
One of the town’s sewer workers appeared at the top of the stairs. “Van! We’ve got some crazy mole machines coming up in the hospital grounds!”
“Good. That’ll give Doctor Lazar’s golems something to hit.” He turned to another man, who looked exhausted, as he gratefully gulped the mug of coffee that had been thrust into his hands. “Gregor?”
“My boys are doing what they can, but a lot of the automated defenses are still dead.” Everyone glanced upwards to the ruined castle that perched on the high pinnacle of stone at the center of town.
Van bit his lip. “Well, keep trying or we’ll all be dead.”
Within Castle Heterodyne, a doorway blocked with shattered stone quivered. Rocks were then knocked aside by several steel tentacles. Quickly, a hole began to widen and, within minutes, a giant mechanical squid pulled itself through. Agatha and Violetta were piloting it with Gil and Tarvek enmeshed within its coils. Tarvek consulted a map. “Looks like we’re almost there.”
Gil looked down as the squid reached several tentacles out and began the tricky procedure of hauling itself across a dark chasm. “That’s okay,” he called up to Agatha, “take your time.”
“Oh, relax,” the Castle chuckled. “It’s not that deep.”
Agatha smiled. “Castle. You’re active here?”
“Yes, Mistress, the dead area is still up ahead.”
Agatha looked about. This particular part of the Castle was severely damaged. “If you’re active here, why is this area still so messed up? I thought you could self-repair?”
There was silence for a moment. “Well, normally, yes,” the Castle admitted. “But I am still . . . weak. I lack the mechanica vitæ74 I require.”
Agatha paused. “All of those drained batteries in the power room . . . ”
“Yes, exactly. It has been quite the strain to do all I have.”
Violetta blinked. “Wait. In that case, isn’t all of this just a huge waste of time? The whole point of repairing you was so you could help defend the town.”
“It was most certainly not! I will do what I can for Mechanicsburg, of course, but I am Castle Heterodyne. My purpose is the recognition and subsequent protection of the Heterodyne and their family. All of Europa believes I have failed and they will not believe otherwise until you are publicly recognized by me. And you will be—even if it is my final act!”
Agatha blew a lock of hair out of her face. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
They trundled into a larger room and stopped in astonishment. An enormous machine stood in the center of the room, all huge curved blades and gigantic feet. Clustered around its base was a large group of Castle prisoners, who turned to look at them as they entered. One of them pointed to Agatha. “Oy! It’s one of the Heterodyne girls!”
“I hope you don’t mind, Mistress, but I have taken the liberty of gathering some potential minions to aid you.”
An overly muscled man wearing a disturbing green hood that hid everything but a perpetually manic grin spat on the floor in annoyance. “Just our luck. That’s the wrong one.”
The massive construct R-79 levered itself to its feet. “Maybe not. That is the one we were supposed to kill.”
Instantly, slabs of stone shot from the floor. They encapsulated the front row of prisoners and began slowly crushing them. Agatha rolled her eyes. “You didn’t explain who I am?”
“Trust me, Mistress, they’ll be much more willing to listen once you properly get their attention.”
A terrified eye peered out from a shrinking stone compartment. If its movement was any indication, its owner was nodding frantically. “I am willing to be convinced we were misinformed!” The stones stopped moving and crumbled back into the floor. In quick succession, the remaining captives expressed a heartfelt willingness to display an open mind.
Agatha felt the weight of expectations settle on her and, with a sigh, clambered up until she stood atop the mechanical squid, staring down at the assembled prisoners. “Yes. You have been misinformed. Let me set you straight. I am the rightful Heterodyne! Your pink fake fled from my castle in bloody shreds! This is my castle! I am the one who killed it—and I am the one who brought it back! I am the one who will restore it to full strength, and you are going to help me—or you will feel that strength on the backs of your necks! Do you understand?”
Below, several dozen of the most hardened criminals and minions in the empire stared upwards and mentally revised their place in the pecking order. “Yes, Mistress,” they muttered.
In the back, one brave soul spoke up: “But won’t Wulfenbach—?”
Gil stepped forward. “I am Gilgamesh Wulfenbach! The House of Wulfenbach will honor its word! When this castle is repaired, you will all be free to leave!”
There was a skeptical silence, into which Tarvek stepped up. “And I’ll make sure he keeps that promise,” he declared.
The prisoners stared at him blankly. One, who held a large multi-wrench slung comfortably over his shoulder, spoke for them all. “Who the Hell are you?”
Gil stared at Tarvek. “What are you doing?” he hissed.
Tarvek smiled genially at him. “Go ahead. Tell them who I am.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“It’ll impress them,” he leaned in and dropped his voice, “and help Agatha.” He smiled winningly. “Which is what we both want, yes?”
Gil stared at him sourly. “This,” he indicated Tarvek, “is Prince Aaronev Tarvek Sturmvoraus. Heir to the throne of the Storm King.” The crowd drew in a collective gasp. Gil continued, “And a loyal vassal of the House of Wulfenbach.” Tarvek blinked and looked at him. Gil smiled wider and spoke without moving his lips. “Or else.”
Any protest Tarvek might have made was cut off as the man with the wrench made a wide gesture towards him, unfortunately with the hand that held the wrench. Tarvek dodged backward, but the tool caught him lightly on the forehead any
way.
The man didn’t even notice. He yelled at the assembled crowd. “What is the matter with you lot? The Castle says that she’s the Heterodyne?” He glanced up into the shadows and flinched. “Fine! But you idiots can’t really believe that these two clowns are—”
A dark woman dressed in once-pristine white—down to an elegantly worked eye patch—cleared her throat. “Um. Herr Doktor, that is Prince Sturmvoraus.”
The wrench swung round again. Tarvek ducked. “Really?”
The woman nodded. “Yeah. A guy I did knife work for had a portrait. Said he was gonna be the Storm King.”
The man known as Doctor Wrench75 considered Gil and Tarvek with a fresh eye. “Huh.”
She continued. “And Wulfenbach’s kid is in town. So that really could be him.”
The crowd looked to Wrench and held its collective breath. He looked at Agatha now with new respect. “And you’ve got them both on your string, eh?” After a moment of consideration, he knelt before Agatha and presented the enormous combination wrench to her in supplication. “Well done, my Lady.” Silently, the remaining prisoners dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.
“Loyal vassal?” Tarvek growled softly.
Gil nodded. “And we’re both on Agatha’s string.”
Tarvek continued to glare for moment, then gave a resigned smile. “Well. That I can live with.”
Gil nodded. “You and me both—”
Then they simultaneously added: “—for the moment.”
The hospital hoist descended smoothly, despite the rumbling and booming that shook the walls. The lighting had gone out and, seconds later, green emergency lights had flickered on to replace them. Aside from the Baron, only two doctors and Lucrezia had been able to cram aboard, but the others had actually seemed grateful they had an excuse to go bounding back into the collapsing hospital to rescue more patients. Lucrezia just shook her head. Everybody wanted to be a hero. This place was a bad influence.
The chief doctor finished his examination of the Baron and sighed in relief. “I don’t know what Sun’s been doing to him, but some of these modifications are amazing.” He glanced up at the other doctor. “You have to look at this. He’s healing faster than anyone I’ve ever seen!”
Lucrezia was no stranger to pride. It was one of the things that kept her going. But this had an unfamiliar flavor. Watching dear Klaus snore was nostalgic, of course, but it got boring after a while. She had amused herself by tweaking the medical equipment in an effort to get them out of this dreary place as quickly as possible. Now, here was this doctor, whom she knew was as knowledgeable as any on Sun’s staff, marveling over it honestly, without trying to flatter her or curry favor or anything. She allowed herself to relish the feeling as the lift continued to move downwards.
The only fly in the ointment was that if she were to speak up and actually let the doctors know that she—not Sun—was responsible for these paltry improvements, their resulting adulation would be gratifying, of course, but it would be pathetically short-lived. She would have to kill them almost immediately.
And really, darling, she thought to herself, just how needy are we?
Wrench had been filling Agatha in on the events of the last few days: “ . . . weirder than usual and then it ordered everyone here. “
Agatha nodded. “Well, supposedly the very last break I have to repair is in the next room.”
R-79 cleared its throat. “Yeah, okay, we seen that. It is pretty obvious.”
“That’s a relief. We could use an easy one.”
Wrench shook his head as he led her through a doorway. “Um . . . he said ‘obvious.’ Not ‘easy.’ ”
Agatha stopped dead. “Oh.”
“Do you really like it,” Lucrezia asked the doctor coyly. “That makes me very happy. I want you to know that.”
Before Agatha was a large room filled with what she identified as boilers, rows of them, stacked atop one another for several stories. On the far wall she could see an immense crack that ran in a jagged line through the masonry. Where the crack intersected a fat electrical cable, the cable had been sheared apart, and a perpetual display of sparks snapped and crackled around the break. Between Agatha and the cable was a sunken concrete floor, occupied by at least twenty of the autonomous security clanks. They moved slowly back and forth, occasionally colliding softly with each other. At each collision, there would be a brief flurry of metal teeth and claws before the creatures turned aside and ambled off in a new direction.
Easily a dozen of the nearest turned towards the people who entered the room. After a few tense seconds, they swung their heads away in disinterest.
“They’re not attacking?” Agatha asked.
Wrench looked at her askance. “You’re complaining?”
“Well, no, but . . . ”
Wrench waved a hand. “No, no, I get it. They’re as haywire as the rest of this place, I guess, but they’ll still snag you quick enough if you’re in the wrong area.”
“Ah. And where’s that?”
Wrench pointed. “See that dark smear at the bottom of the ladder? Doctor Ott figured that was where it started.”
“Did he say why?”
“Nope. All he said was ‘AAIEEEE!!’ ”
Agatha stared at him. “I . . . see.”
Wrench shrugged. “Hey, that was his idea. If you know how to take those things out from over here, I’m all for it.”
Tarvek stepped into the room. “So, what’s the—” He saw the security clanks and stopped in his tracks. “AAAAHH! Those things again!”
Agatha nodded. “Yes.” She glanced up at the machinery around them. “I suspect that this might be their control center.” As she continued to examine the room, a calculating look entered her eyes.
Tarvek slumped. “Oh perfect.”
Gil stepped in. “So what’s the . . . ” He paused. “Ah. More of those is it? Could be useful.”
Tarvek looked at him. “That’s all you have to say?”
Gil shrugged. “I’ve fought lots of clanks. I know the only other one I saw was already being controlled by Agatha, but they don’t look too tough.”
Tarvek grinned at him. “I will renounce my crown if you walk down there right now.”
Gil stopped dead. “That bad?”
Tarvek nodded. “Oh yes, but I don’t expect you to take the word of a lowly vassal.”
Gil patted Tarvek on the shoulder. “I will, actually. So, do you have any useful ideas?”
Tarvek considered this. “If we threw in every minion we have, we might take out one of them.”
Gil waved a hand. “That’s a terrible plan.”
Wrench looked pleasantly surprised. “Thank you, sir!”
“I mean, there’s got to be close to twenty of them. We don’t have near enough minions.”
Wrench sighed.
Tarvek nodded. “What do you think, Agatha?”
But Agatha was nowhere in sight. “Where did she go?” Gil asked, raising his voice due to the machine roar rising behind them. “She was right here . . . ” The three men looked at each other, then scattered, just as the gigantic device they had seen in the anteroom smashed through the wall behind them. It tottered into the room, great metal scythes creaking outwards, and then it began to topple forward. The security clanks on the ground stared upwards, uncomprehending, as it rushed down towards them until, with a great rolling boom, it slammed to the ground, cracking the floor and throwing up dust and loose debris.
Anti-aircraft fire filled the sky, but the projectile screamed along unscathed, striking the last few undamaged walls of the Great Hospital. The detonation was pitched so low that it was hard to hear and was accompanied by a burst of purple lightning. The remaining structure shuddered and began to collapse in an unnatural fashion. It appeared that the brick, steel, and glass had been transformed into some sort of liquid. The building dropped with a rolling roar and began to spread outwards in huge waves. Shrieking soldiers, patients, and staff dashed to avoid
the onrushing mass. Those stuck by it were quickly engulfed in flowing stone.
The crowd quickly separated into two groups, each with a different purpose. One group was moving evacuated patients into the surrounding, undamaged buildings, though there were distressingly few of these. The other half was frantically trying to extricate those still trapped inside.
The liquid stone stayed liquid, which made freeing these victims easier, but the rescuers soon realized, to their horror, that the slurry was now draining away through stairways, shafts, and vents. It was making its way down into the hospital’s lower levels, where—no doubt—hundreds had sought shelter. A trooper dug at a pool of stone slurry with an entrenching tool and saw his effort was like trying to shovel out a pool of mercury. There was smoke and grit everywhere. Hundreds of Wulfenbach troopers toiled trying to clear the debris.
Occasionally, they would raise their heads and realize they were being aided by the same townspeople they had been fighting less than an hour before. At the moment, it simply wasn’t important. People were being found and many of them were even still alive—tucked within pockets of collapsed brick or huddled within sealed rooms. Cheers went up whenever this happened, and the sound gave strength to the remaining workers.
Doctor Sun moved among the survivors, an oasis of calm professionalism that steadied all around him. Another cheer went up, but it was cut off. Sun glanced up and saw a trooper hauling a clank out of a pit. The clank was formed to look like a young woman and its remaining clothing was in tatters. Ah, yes. It was the clank that believed itself to be the Princess Anevka. She had been at the Baron’s side, the last time he had looked in. The troopers talking to her seemed to be gesturing oddly, then several of them moved off while the others took up guard positions. He hurriedly finished his instructions and headed towards her. She saw him approaching and drew herself up.
“Herr Doktor Sun.” She indicated the tunnel from which she had emerged, and which the troopers were now guarding. “We must establish some sort of perimeter to keep people back. I’m afraid there is some sort of gas leak. I don’t know what it is, but I’m afraid it is very toxic.” She drew herself up and her voice seemed to ring out. “I am afraid that Baron Wulfenbach is dead. Along with the brave doctors who stayed by his side.”
