by Phil Foglio
“All very well, but who wants to constantly stand in the presence of an unstoppable force? That is why there is a chief minion, one who knows how to survive in the presence of the master and becomes the main interface that stands between the people of the town and that unstoppable force. You are their lightning rod. A conductor of her voice, but one who shunts the madness away from them.”
Moloch stared at the work area. Not only was the fire out, but the crew was almost finished with the substation’s repairs. As newcomers arrived, he was pointed out to them, and it was if a switch was flipped behind their eyes. They seamlessly integrated themselves into the work crews in an instant. “This . . . this is insane,” Moloch whispered.
“Oh yes,” Mittelmind agreed. He paused. “I’m sorry, was there more to that?”
Moloch was shaking his head. “Did I say airship? Nuts to that. I’ll walk outta here. Heck, I’ll run. There is nothing that’ll keep me—”
“Excuse me, but...” Moloch turned, and there was Sanaa standing next to him. “Is there anything left for me to do?”
Moloch expected a dozen salacious fantasies to present themselves, but realized all of them had already been surpassed by Sanaa actually talking to him. The mechanic in him, who had long been resigned to a celibate existence, took charge with a sigh. Moloch pointed. “That pump sounds like it has a clogged fuel line.”
Sanaa nodded. “I’m on it.”
Moloch stared after her and realized he was still thinking clearly. “Weird.”
He turned back, and almost ran into Fräulein Snaug who, for some reason, looked furious. “So?”
Moloch stared down at her. “So . . . what?”
Snaug jerked a chin at the receding Sanaa. “So I thought she was your big romantical idée fixe.”
Moloch looked back at Sanaa with concern. “Does she have a broken idée? I don’t know anything about women—”
“Shut up!” Snaug snapped.
Mittelmind tapped his nose in thought. “This is most interesting. For a love-besotted lout, you are quite unaffected.”
Moloch’s face flushed scarlet. “Does everyone know about that?”
“Hm? Oh, not everyone. Just those of us who noticed that anyone who got to your kitchen after Sanaa did was served boiled sponge with gravy.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess . . . ”
“So?” Snaug gripped his sleeve fiercely. “So? Are you over her now?”
Moloch considered this. “I . . . I don’t know. I . . . everything is suddenly so different.” He turned to Snaug. “I mean, I still like her . . . ” Snaug opened her mouth, but Moloch cut her off. “But until these last few days, I never had a chance to get used to working around attractive women like you.” Snaug stared at him. “So, Sanaa? Yeah, she’s smart and tough and I like being around her, but since I feel the same way about you, I obviously don’t know what I want, let alone anything about romance.” He shook his head. “Stupid, huh?”
When Snaug just continued to stare, he shrugged and turned back towards the work party. After another few seconds, a concerned Professor Mittelmind gingerly poked Snaug on the shoulder, at which she spun around and clutched at him tightly, burying her face in his chest. “Oh, Professor,” she moaned, trembling. “I want to kill something so very, very much!”
“My goodness,” Mittelmind mused. “He is a dangerous one.”
Moloch hailed Professor Mezzasalma, interrupting an impromptu lecture about the history of flow valves. “How’s it going?”
“Just closing it up, my boy.” The professor’s mechanical legs clambered up out of the pit with ease. “Did you say this was the last one?”
Moloch looked at his list, balled it up and tossed it away. “That’s what I said, yes . . . ”
“Ah! There you are, Herr von Zinzer! Well done!”
The townspeople cowered before the voice that emanated from a rusty grate. “That’s the Castle,” the elder foreman muttered.
The voice continued, “Bring your team to the guard house just inside the cathedral gate. I have found more work for you!”
Moloch nodded. “But I didn’t believe it.”
Mezzasalma packed up his toolkit. “Ah, no doubt you foresaw that each repair would allow it to see a further problem, yes?”
Moloch snorted. “No, I just know that it hates me.”
Along with the rest of the crowd, Sanaa and Snaug trailed along. They found themselves walking together, although they took great pains not to look at each other. “You seem to know him very well.” It was obvious about whom Sanaa was talking.
Snaug shrugged. “Well, you certainly wanted nothing to do with him . . . up until now.” Without breaking stride she gave a bit of a shimmy and her voice became a rather good imitation of Sanaa’s, albeit a bit more breathless: “Is there anything left for me to do?”
Sanaa’s face reddened. “I was just getting an assignment.”
“Such a shame you didn’t get the one you obviously wanted.”
Sanaa arched her back slightly. “I think I’m more likely to get what I want out of him than you are. If nothing else, he’ll be able to thank me afterwards.”
Snaug clenched her fists so tightly that her gloves creaked. “Oh, he’ll thank me plenty when he sees what I’m going to do to you.”
The crew turned a corner and had to step around a collapsed wall. The foreman paused and looked about the town. “We’ll be doing this forever,” he muttered.
Mezzasalma followed his gaze. “Well . . . Science tells us that there has to be an end at some point.”
Another shell struck a building, and sent it tumbling to the ground amidst flames and smoke. “Sorry? What part of the town full of rubble are you looking at?”
Atop the Heterodyne’s Observation Tower, several members of the Mechanicsburg Municipal Watch were trying to ascertain the strength of the Wulfenbach forces outside the walls. “Something out there looks weird,” the elder stated flatly.
His nephew stared out at what appeared to be a troop of giant mechanical palm trees and bit his lip. “No, really? Should we even still be up here? It seems a bit dangerous.”
The elder swiveled his telescope several degrees to the left. “It’ll be worse down there, lad. This here is a place of strategic value. They’ll make an effort to take it in one piece.” It was probably a lot more strategic before everybody had airships, was the unwelcome thought that skittered through his partner’s mind. The old man continued, “Besides, somebody’s got to keep watch so we can warn people if something happens.”
Any further nitpicking by the younger observer was derailed by the gigantic hand that softly closed around him. His muffled exclamation caused the older man to spin around and see the matching gigantic winged simian that clung to the tower. Automatically, he scrambled for the microphone. “Giant monkey,” he whispered.
The man clinging to the creature shook a fist in agitation. “Cower on your own time, lackey! I am Professor Julius Senear, master of anthropoid aviation! I seek asylum for myself and my beautiful aeroapes!”
The observer blinked. “Asylum? Really?”
“Yes! Yes, I admit it! When I heard that old Klaus was weakened, I attempted to press my advantage! I cannot be blamed for this! There was a power vacuum! I had an unstoppable army of aeroapes! Logic and science demanded that I wrest control of the empire!” Senear slumped and looked out over the devastation. “But alas, it appears I made my move too soon. The Baron has returned and has blown my unstoppable army from the skies.”
The old man fixed on the important fact. “The Baron is alive?”
“Oh. Yes. And he’s angry. He didn’t even try to capture us or let us surrender.”
“Maybe he’s just out of patience.”
Senear looked terrified. “Because of me?”
Suddenly, with a thump, a battered figure slammed into the tower. It was a man in a smoking exo-skeleton flying suit. “Hoy! You! Doctor Igneas Slaghammer and his beautiful claw seek asylum!”
; The old man nodded slowly. “Because of all of you.”
Having climbed onto the tower, Slaghammer collapsed in exhaustion. “Rejoice,” he whispered.
Moloch gently lifted a small child aside just as a piston thudded down onto where it had been sitting. “I’m helping,” the child assured him.
“You sure are,” he replied. He turned to the civic engineer who was assisting him. “Seriously, unless we want them to ‘help’ by greasing the gears with their blood, can’t we get them out of the way?”
The engineer sighed and hooked a thumb towards the shambling creatures that stood guard. “You gotta convince the Crypt Masters about that.”
Moloch gazed at the figure wrapped in rotting bandages. When it saw he was staring, it chattered its teeth at him. He sighed. “And this is a cathedral, is it?”
The engineer looked at him blankly, then at the gigantic jewel-encrusted statue of one of the lesser furies that stood over the altar in the nave. “Yes,” he ventured. “What else would it be?”
“I have so got to get out of here,” Moloch muttered. Suddenly a series of tremors shook the building. The Crypt Masters snapped into action. “Flee, children! Flee!” With a shout of laughter, the children poured from the room with the ease of long practice. A door burst open, and the Abbess of the Red Cathedral appeared. “Everyone get to the courtyard!”
Outside, they saw the ground itself was heaving and, with a roar, a gigantic mechanical narwhal, horn spinning madly, erupted from the dirt.
Moloch stared in amazement. “Oops,” he murmured.
The abbess fixed a cold eye on Moloch. “What did you do to my cathedral?”
“That wasn’t us,” he hastily assured her.
Professor Mezzasalma clattered up. “Well, bless my boilers,” he said with surprise. “That’s one of young Iskenshod’s133 submersibles de terre!” He nudged Moloch’s ribs. “He was a student of mine, you know.” He tapped a tooth contemplatively. “It’s strange to see one above the surface like this. They aren’t really designed for—” Easily a dozen metallic tentacles erupted from around the narwhal and attempted to drag it back under ground. Mezzasalma snapped his fingers. “A-ha! Fleeing from an enemy! Of course! It all makes sense, now.”
“Of course,” Moloch echoed faintly.
The battle became more pitched and the owner of the tentacles, an ancient mechanical squid, heaved itself into the light. The narwhal proved itself to be surprisingly limber and was making a game fight of it by slamming itself onto the squid’s central body. Moloch leaned towards the abbess and raised his voice against the din. “For what it’s worth, ma’am, we don’t know anything about that, either.”
The abbess waved a tired hand. “Of course not. Our catacombs are connected to the old Kraken Works134 caverns. Always knew there were still a few of those devils down there.”
Moloch nodded agreeably. “Great. Now that’s cleared up, can we go back inside and get to work?”
The abbess considered this. Then, with a roar, three more narwhals erupted from the ground and the courtyard shook with their fury.
Sanaa looked pensive. “How many of them are there?”
Mezzasalma looked thunderstruck. “Amazing! They’re able to maneuver on the surface! Clearly these are no ordinary giant subterranean mecha-narwhals!”
The abbess rolled her eyes. “This is only going to get worse.” She turned to Moloch. “Get your people back to work, and work fast.” She gripped Moloch’s arm. “When you are done, I have another project for you.” Moloch considered telling her there were probably other projects with a higher priority, but one look at the woman’s ice-cold eyes caused him to reconsider. He nodded, and the abbess turned to one of the Crypt Keepers. “When they are done with their current task, show these people the Bloodstone Paladins.” She turned back to Moloch. “If you can get them working, I want them calibrated for ‘sustained smiting.’ ”
Krosp examined a report before him and it so annoyed him that he bit it. “What is he doing,” the cat snarled.
“He who?” asked Van.
“The Baron, obviously.”
Agatha considered this. “Attacking us?”
Krosp flicked an ear at her. “Then he’s doing a terrible job of it.”
Van looked out the window. “Seriously? Half of the empire’s Special Units are beating at our gates! I’ve just gotten a report of a new subterranean force surfacing near the cathedral.”
Krosp nodded. “At this point, there shouldn’t even be gates. Or a cathedral, or a castle! He was all set to vaporize this place. The only thing slowing him down was the presence of his son and heir in the Castle. But according to Sturmvarous, he’s already back on Castle Wulfenbach—probably under lock and key. So what is the Baron up to?”
From the corner, General Zog heaved himself to his feet. “If hyu dun destroy an enemy target, iz becawze dere iz sumting in it dot hyu vant.”
Krosp nodded. “Yes, but what?”
Everyone looked at Agatha. She squirmed. “It might not be me. It could be the Castle, or the library, or . . . or the Jägers, or—”
Zog cut her off, exclaiming, “Occam’s razor!”
Agatha slumped. “You’re right, of course—”
Zog continued, “Hit vos forged by old Occam Heterodyne!”
“What?”
Zog thumped a fist on the table. “Seriously. Who vouldn’t vant hit? Dot ting ken cut through ennyting!”
Krosp twitched an ear in annoyance. “The Baron has more effective forces just sitting outside the gates—waiting. Why?”
Agatha shrugged. “Does it matter? Every minute we gain because he’s throwing incompetent sparks at us allows us make more repairs.”
“It matters if the stuff he’s holding back can blow through us no matter what we do here.” Krosp rubbed his temples in frustration. “It’s just . . . the empire stays together because people know Klaus is too powerful to challenge. By allowing us to remain active, he’s putting that perception into question.”
Agatha considered this. “Everyone knows the Baron doesn’t care what people think of him. He never has.”
“That’s because he’s always been strong enough to do as he likes. But now, according to Sturmvarous, there are uprisings all over the empire. There is a real possibility of irreparable damage to his rule . . . and the Baron is letting it happen! Something is going on here.”
“I require a spark.” The voice was a faint whisper that drifted through the air.
“Castle?”
“I require a spark.”
Agatha felt a twinge of dread. The Castle had been fading, to be sure, but this . . . it sounded like a dead recording, not like the voice of a sentient entity.
“Castle? I’m here.”
“I require a spark.”
“That’s all it’s been saying all over the town.” Agatha turned to see Tarvek, as well as Professors Mittelmind and Mezzasalma.
“It’s completely unresponsive,” Professor Mezzasalma said. “It won’t even supply repair goals to the maintenance teams anymore.”
Tarvek nodded. “We’ve already shunted every power source we can think of over to the Castle, it just isn’t enough.”
“I require a spark.”
“You’ve got plenty of them right here,” Tarvek said loudly. He turned to Agatha, and she could see the exhaustion in his face. “But at this point, the only useful thing I can think to do with them is grind them up and burn them for fuel.” There was a startled silence from behind them. Tarvek turned to look at the other sparks and waved his hands apologetically. “No, no, I’m sorry, I was only—”
Professors Mittelmind and Mezzasalma laughed in delight. “My goodness, young man!” Mezzasalma gushed. “I am impressed!”
Mittelmind nodded. “Assuming we all survive, you must come work with us! You have the makings of one of the greats!”
Tarvek was obviously of two minds about this. “Oh. Lucky me.”
Suddenly a great BOOM was heard. “N
ow what?” Agatha asked the air.
“I require a spark.”
A Mechanicsburg trooper rushed in. “My Lady,” he cried. “The Baron has brought in a battering ram!”
“See?” Krosp hopped down off the table and headed towards the door. “This is exactly the kind of nonsense I’m talking about! The empire’s got stuff that could disintegrate the town walls! They could drop in from above! Burrow up from below!”
“They’re already doing that,” Mezzasalma informed him.
“So why are they using something so obsolete as a battering ram?”
A few minutes later they all stood on the ramparts and watched as an enormous ram, easily fifteen meters long from tip to tail, again thundered down the causeway and slammed its horned head into the mighty gates. “Yup. That’s a ram,” Agatha said.
Zog scratched his head. “Hy didn’t know dere vos enny of dose tings left in der empire’s arsenal.”
Krosp’s tail lashed. “He’s cleaning house.” He leapt up onto the parapet and looked out at the assembled forces. “Over the last twenty years, he’s collected hundreds of sparks and thousands of monsters and machines. They’ve been on the books, officially listed as being part of the empire’s forces, but he’s never really used them.” He looked at Agatha. “When the Baron uses force, he wants it to be as effective as possible. But here, he’s using this as an opportunity to throw in all of the losers that have been hanging around for years.”
Zog snarled. “Vat does he tink ve iz?”
Krosp looked at him. “An opportunity.”
“Bot for vhat?” He gestured out at the assembled forces. “Look at dese guys.” He turned to Agatha. “Hy dun know how goot hyu iz at readink battlefields yet, my Lady, bot dose guys iz seriously mezzed op. Der Baron’s deployments vos alvays ordered and efficient.” He squinted at them. “Dese guys look like somevun’s havink a drunken brawl durink a garbage fire.”
Another BOOM rattled the stonework. “There’s got to be something we can do about that,” Agatha muttered.
“Can do!” Tarvek, ensconced within Agatha’s ancient armor, climbed to the battlement with a rattle and a clank. “Behold, O Dark Mistress! Your ridiculously fearsome battle armor awaits!”
