Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

“And soon, I’m guessing,” the sergeant sighed. “Though it’s been quiet enough up here…”

Both men glanced over the railing. The situation was tricky. Officially, Mechanicsburg was a part of the Empire, but everyone knew that it was a slightly bent one. In any other town, seeing Castle Wulfenbach chased off might have had a few of the locals smiling quietly to themselves, but this public celebration was worrying. Especially since this unprecedented reversal was treated almost as an unimportant side-effect. The hoopla was really about the news that a Heterodyne had appeared.

Oh, it hadn’t been confirmed by the castle or the Baron or anyone official, but word on the street was that this one was the real thing. Not like the fakes that turned up every now and then.

If that was true…well, neither soldier was privy to the rarified politics of the Empire, of course, but any fool could see that there was going to be trouble. For almost twenty years, wide-eyed naïfs and demagogues alike had declared that the return of the Heterodynes would bring about an end of the Baron and usher in a renaissance of plenty. Now one had appeared, and she was already up to her neck in trouble.

No matter how you looked at it, things were going to get interesting.

The captain sighed. “With any luck, they’ll party all night. We’re low on troops, so we’ve been concentrating what we’ve got on the city walls, the armory, and the hospital.”

Both men glanced up at the sky. With those flying flamethrowers keeping the fleets away, fresh troops would have to come in overland, which would be a logistical nightmare. The Empire had grown accustomed to ruling the skies.

Scorp looked down on the celebrants again. They looked cheerful enough, but—“Shouldn’t there be patrols on the streets?” He then looked abashed. There were numerous jokes about soldiers trying to second-guess old Klaus’s strategies.

The captain politely ignored the faux pas. “He’s got it covered. He’s had a hundred hogsheads of double-fortified lingonberry snap distributed throughout the town, as a ‘congratulations’ sort of thing.”⁵⁹

Scorp stared and then started to grin. “If they hoist a noggin or two of that stuff to the Lady Heterodyne, they’ll be too busy skipping through the streets tryin’ to catch flyin’ pink mimmoths!”

The captain nodded. “Still, there’s no telling what this new girl will do now that she’s in Castle Heterodyne.”

Scorp’s face went sour and he rubbed his arm again. “You’re on target with that one, sir.”

The captain failed to notice the degree to which this discussion affected the sergeant. “Personally, I just wish we knew if she was the real thing or a fake. Once we get some more troops—”

The sergeant swayed slightly. “Hey! You feel that?” “That” rapidly grew into a vibration underfoot which continued to grow in strength.

“It’s an earth tremor,” the captain exclaimed. “And it’s getting stronger!” Shouts of alarm began to break out among the troops. “I knew it! She’s going to kill us with some damnable earthquake machine!”

But the sergeant raised a hand. He heard a peculiar high-pitched squealing. One he was familiar with. “Everybody!” he roared in his best parade-ground voice. “Fall back to the walls!”

Instantly every trooper within earshot grabbed their gear and took off at a stumbling run over the shaking ground. In the center of the gardens, a mound formed and the raw earth continued stretching skyward until suddenly a spinning, metal drill point burst through, scattering dirt and plants for several dozen square meters. The point continued to rise, followed by the rest of the cylindrical machine erupting up and out of the ground. It wavered slightly and the great drill began to slow. Then slowly, majestically, it toppled onto recessed treads, which bounced with a springy jolt.

Everyone stared at it for a minute, as it cooled with a series of clicks and hisses. Then they all jumped again as the rear end swung open, spilling forth a red light and an excited young man in an abbreviated Wulfenbach uniform. He glanced around and then pumped his fist in triumph.

“Woo-hoo!” he crowed to the sky. He turned and yelled back into the machine—“Well done, Scopes! We’re right outside the Great Hospital!”

A slim young woman appeared at the entrance and delicately wiped a sheen of sweat from her dark brow. “All it takes is an accurate 3-D sonar compass, sir.”

“Good thing you built us one, eh?” He turned to the captain, who was frowning as he hurried over. “Never thought we’d get past all those basements.” The captain opened his mouth and the young man snapped out a salute. “Ahoy! Major Resetti, First Subterranean Mecha-Mole Brigade!” He jerked a thumb back. “‘Scopes’ here is Lieutenant Krishnamurti.”

The lieutenant was already saluting, and the captain impatiently saluted back. “Begging your pardon, Major. But your worm-chaser’s busted through a secure perimeter! Leaving a tunnel—” He broke off at the sight of the major’s smirk. “Something funny, Major?”