Sky City (Chap. 17-20)

CHAPTER 17
It was dark.
Mulligan peered into the black doorway unable to make out anything inside.
"James?" The voice of his fellow MCA agent, Roger Copperton, came from behind him. "Maybe we should wait until help arrives?"
A similar thought had occurred to Mulligan, but without the building secured escape was still possible.
They had been tracking these suspects all week. The men were part of a Clockwork "reclamation ring". Essentially they were grave robbers, stealing parts of decommissioned automatons from the Clockwork interment grounds in order to sell them to gear heads or perhaps even use them to build new Clockworks. Mulligan and Copperton had caught the suspects in the act of pilfering the parts, but the men had bolted. James and Roger had given chase across the city which ended when the suspects had ducked into a vacant warehouse on the skydocks.
At this point, James was not about to do anything that might jeopardize their chances of making the arrests. He turned to Roger and reasoned, "How about this? According to building code, there must be at least 2 points of entry to a place like this, right? You stay put at this one, and I'll go around through the other side and flush them out through this door."
In the fog and the light of the over-head gas street lantern, Roger looked a shade of green right down to the roots of his short cropped red hair, but gave a nod of assent all the same.
As he stalked silently around the side of the building, James wondered if he should go through with his plan. Worry began to fill his gut overflowing into his mouth like vomit, but he swallowed it back down and told himself it would be all right. After all Roger had been at the Ministry as long as he had. Between their years of experience they should be fine. He hugged the brick wall, his gun in his hand. There was no door on this side, only large windows around 10 feet up the wall. When he reached the next corner, he peeked around it, but found not a soul. The skydock led right up to the boardwalk that ran along the front of the building and terminated at a large green loading door. A few feet away from the loading entry was a smaller door that rested slightly ajar. As he neared the door he could hear voices coming from inside.
"...Goddamn fools! You led them back here?",
"Where else was we supposed to go, Sir? We was just following the plan..."
"Oh shut the hell up! We need this place cleared out in less than 5 minutes or I will see you all hanged!"
"How are we supposed to..."
"A ship will be arriving any minute. Start packing, you stupid slags!"
It was all Mulligan needed to hear. He gently pushed the door with the barrel of his pistol, waited for a second for his eyes to adjust to the change in light, then slid soundlessly inside. He found himself inside a large open room which comprised the whole of the warehouse. Fortune was on his side as he was concealed in the shadows that fell around the perimeter of the room, created by the overhead lantern that was suspended from its center. He crouched down and quickly took stock of his surroundings. The two men they had chased were there, quietly grumbling between themselves as they hurried to load various parts from a table into wooden packing crates. Mulligan was awestruck by the number of similar crates stacked about the place, and realized they had stumbled onto one of the largest trafficking rings in recorded history. The third man, the leader, was nowhere to be seen at the moment. A large rectangular hole had been cut in the wooden planks of the floor near the center of the room. It seemed to empty into the open sky below and it occured to the detective that it was most likely used to covertly move contraband in and out of the building, away from the prying eyes of the dock patrols. Even now he thought he heard the sounds of distant propellors emanating through the black yawning maw, taunting him to make his move.
As he began to formulate a course of action, some movement in the darkness across the room caught his eye. Roger had slipped inside and was creeping up behind one of the men loading the crates.
Suddenly, James saw a glint of steel flash behind Roger. Before Mulligan could react, Roger screamed in pain and surprise. As the stumbled forward Mulligan could make out the haft of the blade sprouting from the other agent's back.
"Roger!", Mulligan yelled and without thought of his own peril, ran to aid the injured man. But it was too late. One of the thugs gave the fallen Detective Copperton a vicious kick sending him tumbling over the edge of the central pit and into the ether.
Mulligan didn't hear the sound of his own voice screaming in his ears, nor the sound of the propellers reach deafening proportions as the airship closed to dock under the large black hole. And he never heard the sound of the gun which fired the shell that obliterated his knee in a spray of blood and tissue.

"Roger!"

James Mulligan opened his eyes, but it made no difference. Eyes open or shut, all he could see was blackness. He lay still for several minutes wondering where he was and if he had gone blind. Slowly he fit the pieces of the puzzle together. The first thing he became aware of was the leather smog mask pressing against his face. Then came the acrid taste coating his tongue. He rapidly blinked his eyes and, as they came into focus, he realized he had not lost his sight, rather he was looking through the mask's lenses at some of the densest smoke he had ever encountered. And then it all came flooding back:

The Kestrel had crashed!
He remembered the horror of watching the ship and all aboard being slowly pulled down to hell by the massive Requiem and its maniacal Captain Granger. He had only seconds to pull on his mask before The Kestrel's stern was swung downwards, forcing him to grab the wheel. He had reached for Jana's hand...
"Jana!"
He said her name aloud, but there was no reply. Had she got her mask on, too? He couldn't remember. He fought the worry that consumed his brain, knowing he must do something. He began to make a mental tab of his injuries. Carefully he moved each appendage starting with his fingers and moving in the visceral direction. Miraculously his limbs seemed intact. He ran his hands along his torso. His jacket felt tattered and torn in a few places. As he reached the right side of his lower abdomen he became aware of an intense stinging sensation. His hand felt wet as he pulled it away. He placed his hand over the wound once more and applied pressure to staunch the bleeding. Gingerly, he rose to his feet. He took a few steps to his left and felt his hand brush against smooth planked wood. "The Kestrel?", he wondered.
"Jana!", he yelled again.
His eyes adjusted better now. He could make out the shape of the little ship through the smoke. He groped his way around the hull hoping to find any of her crew alive, but it seemed deserted. He wondered to himself if they had been thrown clear might they have survived.
"OK, now what, James?", he asked aloud.
"James?", his name echoed back to him through the darkness, but it was not his voice.
"Reg?!", yelled Mulligan through a throat choked with emotion.
Mulligan fumbled his way over to where the Clockwork's voice had originated, but as he rounded the curvature of the hull he found his hope frozen by horror. Reginald's fully intact torso was nearly severed from its lower half by the collapsed gun port he had attempted to escape from.
"My God, Reg!", Mulligan exclaimed.
The Clockwork's silver eyes shone in the dim light afforded them, and he even managed a smile.
"Oh, this?", he asked inclining his head towards his mangled lower body, "It's nothing, James. One of the few benefits of being an 'artie'."
"Can you move?"
"Unless you brought a cutting torch with you, I'm afraid I'm pinned here for the duration."
Mulligan opened his mouth to reply but was stopped short by a small scuffling noise that came from the haze.
"Hello?!", yelled Mulligan.
No reply was given except the strange, disembodied scuffles.
"Jana?", Mulligan said hopefully.
Something hard and round pressed against the back of his head.
"So, you're a friend of Windfury's, eh?"
Mulligan didn't need to see the owner to recognize its oily voice.
"I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced. My name is Marcus Granger, Captain of The Requiem, and since I can't deal with our dearly departed Jana, I guess my quarrel now ends with you."
Mulligan could hear the smile in the man's voice through the wheezing. The detective's mind raced to the Sakai currently pressing against his ribs from its resting place in his inner coat pocket. He began sliding his hand from his wound slowly up his side. But Granger spied the movement, and pressed the gun barrel harder into the detective's skull.
"Now, let's not be foolish", said Granger patronizingly.
Now it was Reg's turn to enter the fray. "Foolish?!", asked the Clockwork with unveiled in-credulousness. "We're trapped on the surface, and all you can think of is petty revenge?"
"Haha", laughed the Captain. "Revenge? No. I'm collecting a debt. You owe me a ship. Your life for my ship. Sounds fair, doesn't it?" Without waiting for an answer, Granger squeezed the trigger, and fired a round into the helpless Reg's head.
"You sonofabitch!", yelled Mulligan, as he fell to his knees to check on the lifeless automaton.
"Don't worry. You will be joining him soon enough. Oh that's right. Clockworks don't go to heaven, do they?", said Granger as he gave Mulligan a kick to the shoulder causing the detective to roll onto his back. Through the smog, Mulligan could see the Captain's masked face and hair were covered in blood. His eyes were wide with madness. He pointed the gun at Mulligan's chest. Mulligan squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the end.



CHAPTER 18
The gun hissed. Mulligan felt as if a sledgehammer had slammed into his sternum. It was becoming harder to breath.

"That was for The Kestrel, you bastard!"

Mulligan's eyes sprang open in surprise at the sound of Jana Windfury's voice. He saw Granger's body lying across his chest. The man's eyes stared wide with the shock which pierced his body via Jana's bullet.
"James, are you okay?", asked Jana with patent concern as she gasped for air.
With a little effort, James was able to push the smaller man off him. He rose to his feet gasping and holding his side.
"Yeah, just give me a second", replied James.
"Oh James, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to involve you in anything like this."
Mulligan did his best to manage a smile and said, "Don't blame yourself. As I recall, I involved myself. Besides, I'm still in your debt remember?"
Jana's green eyes glowed with tears through the lenses in her mask. "Well if you want to call it even at this point, I won't hold it against you", she said with a wet laugh.
Then they both laughed together for a moment. Laughed through the pain and fear.
Suddenly Jana's eyes widened with fearful realization. She had seen Reginald's lifeless body still protruding from the hull of the Kestrel.
Her voice was saturated in emotion as she asked, "Is he....?"
She left the statement unfinished, afraid to say the word, but Mulligan understood and nodded his head, unable to look her in the eyes. They sat in silence for a moment to mourn the loss of the stoic Clockwork.
"James", she said softly, "I'm sorry we couldn't help your friend."
All at once James' thoughts flew to Lucy. He had been so in the moment of trying to stay alive that he hadn't given thought to much else.
"Do you think she will be okay?", asked Jana.
"I don't know. I left a message for MCA before we left. I only hope we can get home alive to see if it got there."
Jana nodded her understanding and said, "About that, I've been doing some thinking. By my estimates, we've crashed roughly 53 miles east of Central. If this thing still works", she said looking at the compass mounted on her wrist, "I say we head that way."
"53 miles is a long walk, Jana. Do you think our masks will hold out that long?"
"Given the circumstances, James, I don't think we have any other choice." A somber fear had filled her voice, which attacked Mulligan's psyche like a disease. He pondered what a strange experience it was to be human. To feel terror, happiness, hopefulness, and despair all in a matter of minutes. Perhaps this was all part of the humanistic value of "Negative Capability" that the poets had postulated. He looked up hoping to compare Jana's feelings, but found that she had already started walking.

It was slow going. They said little to one another, just trying to conserve their breath. James' mouth was parched and evil tasting reminding him it had been several hours since he had last had anything to drink. It seemed they hand landed on an alien planet to Mulligan. "Venus, perhaps?", he thought dryly. Strange noises came upon the wind. At least once Mulligan could swear he heard the sound of water crashing against land. The heat was almost overwhelming and if that wasn't enough, there was the smog. It was like a living enemy. It hovered at the edges of their masks like an angry swarm of insects. It wanted to be inside them, to fill their lungs and guts full of ash. It coated their exposed skin, mixing with the sweat. Though Jana was only a few feet in front of Mulligan, the smog would sometimes obscure her from his vision at times as if it were deliberately trying to separate them. But after several hours of walking, all these concerns were being eclipsed by a more urgent problem:

The masks were starting to fail.

Each breath became more laborious than the last. Each step became a battle. Mulligan had to fight the urge to tear the mask from his face and gulp down draughts of tainted air. They took to leaning on one another for support. Finally Jana fell to her knees. Without her support, Mulligan collapsed beside her. His vision started to blur around the edges.
"I'm sorry, Lucy", he whispered thickly before the world faded into blackness and he thought nothing more.



CHAPTER 19
A vibration shook his body. Then another. Consciousness returned to him in waves. He felt himself in a seated position, sitting on something hard. Something soft pressed into his right arm. But most disturbing to him was the feeling that he was hurtling forward through space without his consent or control. Fighting the urge to vomit, he opened his eyes only to see more accursed blackness through the lenses of a mask. He turned his head to his right and found Jana bouncing against him, apparently still unconscious or dead. His hand found her wrist and he pressed his fingertips against it. Her pulse came slow but steady. He breathed a sigh of relief, and, much to his delight, found he could easily do so. He looked to his left to discover a man that he had never seen before seated next to him. His face was smudged with black soot. He wore goggles and a pith helmet and was dressed in brown coveralls. He had not yet noticed Mulligan as his focus was directed in front of them. Mulligan felt a sudden surge of surprise as he realized he could see the man's face. He wasn't wearing a mask.

The movement must have caught his attention, because the stranger turned to look in Mulligan's direction. Seeing the detective eyeing him curiously, the stranger grinned and said, "Well, look who's awake. Are you still functional?"
Now that the man had turned his face, Mulligan could see by the shinning golden eyes that he was an automaton.
"Yes, thank you", Mulligan replied, trying to ignore the pain that still dug into his side.
The Clockwork continued, "You're both quite lucky. If I hadn't happened on you during my expedition, you would have been just another couple of souls claimed by the dark sargasso."
"Our masks...what happened?", asked Mulligan.
"Oh, those aren't your masks. Your masks were done for. Luckily we carry spares on all the carts in case we get a visiting ministry official. Looks like I got to you just in time. You were semi-conscious and delirious when I found you. Kept saying Lucy over and over again. Is 'Lucy' your lady friend?", asked the Clockwork as he nodded at Jana.
Suddenly Jana stirred and her hand squeezed Mulligan's.
Mulligan shook his head and said, "Please, I don't mean to be rude, but, who are you?"
The Clockwork sighed, "I should be asking you the same thing, I suppose. I guess it's high-time for introductions, and seeing as how you asked first: My name is Model Number 133,455, but everyone just calls me 'Wolfgang'. I'm the primary engineer for the Clockwork Coal Collective."
"I'm detective James Mulligan of MCA, and this is..."
"Captain Jana Windfury, at yeh service," interjected Jana, having just regained consciousness. "Thank you for rescuing us, Wolfgang." Mulligan felt a sense of dismay at how weak Jana's voice sounded. He gave her a concerned look.
The Clockwork didn't seem to notice. "Oh it’s no problem", said Wolfgang cheerfully. "I'm afraid the expedition was a wash anyhow. I was just about to return home when I almost ran over the two of you." He gave a short laugh, "Can you imagine the odds?"
The Clockwork suddenly fell silent for a moment in apparent thought and frowned before asking, "You’re from the Ministry you say?"
"That's correct."
Wolfgang's frown deepened. "I thought we made it pretty clear last time that we had no interest in your offer", he said unpleasantly.
"Pardon?", replied Mulligan, who was now thoroughly confused.
"That's why the Ministry sent you, isn't it? To buy the Collective? You can just tell them we will never sell! Not until they agree to grant us equality!"
The sudden outburst of emotion, especially coming from a Clockwork, caught Mulligan by total surprise. "I'm sorry. I'm from Clockwork affairs.... I have no idea....", was the best he could manage as a response.
"Right! It makes sense they would send someone with a knowledge of Clockwork culture to try and reason with us." By this time, Wolfgang seemed completely agitated. Mulligan grew fearful of further angering their savior, and sat quietly thinking about how to calm him down. Mercifully the little cart began to lose speed until it coasted to a complete stop.
Wolfgang said, "Excuse me for a moment", and leapt from the vehicle. James craned his neck to see the Clockwork walk around the back of the tubular framed conveyance. From somewhere inside his coveralls, the automaton pulled a crank and slipped it over a square nut on the side of the cart's engine compartment. He rapidly turned it for several minutes. As he was doing so, Mulligan heard the sound of a large spring being wound. Apparently satisfied by this, Wolfgang returned to his place in the driver's seat and engaged the acceleration lever. He heaved a sigh before saying, "I'm sorry. I should not have treated you so poorly. Ministry or not you are my guests. Please accept my apologies."
"Think nothing of it", said Jana weakly with a smile in her voice.
"But", Mulligan continued, "I've been trying to tell you, I'm from MCA. We deal with crimes involving Clockworks. I have nothing to do with coal."
Now it was Wolfgang who looked confused. "Then why did they send you here?", he shot back.
"That’s just it!", said Mulligan trying to control his vexation. "'They' didn't send us. Our airship crashed! Our destination was NUK New London before we went down."
Wolfgang stared at the both of them with disbelief for a moment and then started laughing. Mulligan and Jana found this incredibly strange and felt there was nothing to laugh at, but said nothing.
"You poor bastards!", he said between gasps. Then after regaining some control, he went on, "Forgive my suspicions, it's just that the Ministry has been leaning on us pretty hard lately."
"You said they made you an offer?", inquired Jana, who was just grateful the laughing fits had subsided.
"Yeah", responded Wolfgang with a scowl, "Tried to buy the Collective rights out from under the Prime Models."
"The Prime Models? You mean the Devonshires?", asked Mulligan in astonishment that he may have stumbled on to something important.
"That's right."
"But I thought the Collective was legal property of the Devonshires"
"That seems to be the Ministry's take on it as well. But, in reality the Coal Collective is property of all Clockworks. The Prime Models were given rights to represent us by the Queen. They are the instructors of all Clockworks, but we consider every model to be equal."
Mulligan was taken aback and couldn't stop from asking, "If that's so, then why do some of you live on the floating continents, while others are forced to labor down in this smoke filled hell?"
Wolfgang chuckled at the detective's view and replied, "Don't you understand, Detective Mulligan? Nothing is more important to a Clockwork than its purpose, and I can think of no purpose more important or rewarding than providing energy for the masses. Besides life down here is not so bad, as you will soon see. Look, we have come to the road." Wolfgang pointed at lights looming out of the darkness. Lights which were issued from the first of a row of lanterns which lined both sides of the road.

As the cart bounced onto the path the ground felt more rigid and level. Mulligan could hear the metal wheels grind against the stone ground. As they progressed, activity around them began to increase. They passed an occasional cart travelling in the other direction and Wolfgang would exchange waves with the vehicles driver's. Eventually they caught up with up with a convoy of larger carts loaded with coal that were moving so slow that Wolfgang felt compelled to skirt around them and resume their previous cruising speed. Finally they came to a pair of large metal gates, blackened by the soot and laden with springs and gears.
"Hold on a sec", said Wolfgang as he applied the brakes and leapt from the vehicle. He ran up to the brick wall in which the gates were set and pushed a lever upwards. With a loud shriek, the gears groaned and began to turn until the large bolt which locked the gateway shot back with an even louder metallic clang. Wolfgang returned to the cart and they proceeded onward.
"Do you get many uninvited guests?", asked Mulligan as he watched the gates spring closed behind them.
"You are a witty fellow, Detective. Actually they came with the place and we just keep them functional in honor of our Creator."
"Creator?", asked Mulligan with bewilderment. Though he couldn't believe it, he found his suspicions confirmed as they arrived at a large brick building. Two sentries opened the large wooden carriage doors to grant them entrance. As they passed through, Mulligan looked up and read aloud the large dilapidated sign posted above them.
"Devonshire & Co.!?", asked Mulligan emphatically in wonder. "Is this..."
"This was the workshop of our father, Detective", Wolfgang corrected. "However, today it serves a different purpose: It is the center of our operations and our home."
They stopped at a secondary set of doors and the others closed behind them. A powerful wind rushed through the little box they sat in which cleared the air of much of the smog. When it had stopped the doors in front of them opened. Wolfgang pulled the cart into the back of a row of similar vehicles and bade them both to follow.
"Welcome to the Mechology", said Wolfgang grandly.
Mulligan had a hard time taking it all in. The inside of the building was a beehive of activity. It was at least three stories tall. The entire left wall from floor to ceiling was made up by stacks of bunks, not unlike the cells of a beehive, many of which were currently occupied by resting Clockworks. The center of the building was, for the most part, open. Over half of it was taken by vehicles or long wooden tables at which several Clockworks sat eating, conversing and studying maps. The right side was the only part enclosed by rooms which ran its length from floor to ceiling and was serviced by a single lift that moved between the 3 stories.
Wolfgang turned to face them and smiled as he said, "I think it’s safe to remove your masks." As they did so they could immediately tell the air inside the building was almost untainted due to the large exhaust fans on the back wall.
"Detective!", exclaimed Wolfgang, "You're bleeding!"
Mulligan had been so taken by his new surroundings, he had forgotten about his wound. He looked down to see the side of his shirt soaked in blood.
"Wolfgang!", said a reprimanding voice behind them.
Mulligan turned to see a female Clockwork with copper colored eyes walking purposefully towards them. With her long, dark curly hair, she looked a bit like...
"Lucy! Good Lord!", blurted Mulligan. "Wolfgang, I need to get to New London right away!"
Wolfgang laughed, "Who is this 'Lucy'? Never mind. You're not going anywhere until you get medical treatment, Detective."
Then, not waiting for an argument, he turned to the impatient looking female Clockwork and said, "Tessa, can you take the good Detective and Captain Windfury to Surgical Repair?"
Tessa turned to James and Jana to give each a quick bow and smile during these informal introductions, but quickly returned to her perturbed state as she began her interrogation anew, "Of course, but first how about you tell me why you decided to venture out alone? What if you had unwound? You could have been lost forever!"
"Oh, Tessa, you worry too much. Nothing happened. I'm fine. I know how long I can last on a full wind right down to the second."
Feeling things were not proceeding quickly enough, Mulligan decided to speak up:
"I hate to interrupt", he said trying to hide the impatience in his voice, "But I am truly in a rush. It's a matter of life and death!"
Wolfgang became a little more somber, and perhaps somewhat relieved at finding this convenient exit from his dressing down by Tessa, said, "My apologies. Tessa will take you to S.R. I will catch a quick bath, and we will meet back here in 15 minutes." With that he turned towards the lift.

"He can be so infuriating at times", said Tessa shaking her head in spite of the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Please come with me." She started walking towards the right, rear corner of the Mechology. James turned to Jana and gave her a reassuring smile. Her face was smudged with soot. She tried to return his grin, but was taken by sudden fit of coughing.
"Jana, are you alright!?"
She nodded as she coughed, but was unable to speak for a minute. "Yeah", she finally managed to get out, "but I'm afraid I might have a touch of smoke inhalation."
Her reassurances did nothing to calm the alarm he felt at the paleness of her skin and the unsteadiness of her walk. Not waiting for permission, he scooped her up and followed Tessa.

Surgical Repair was made up of a small treatment/operating room and a larger room full of beds used for recovery and hospitalization. It was also obviously tailored to treating patients of the mechanical kind as it took the Medmech several minutes to locate the human oriented first aid kit. The Medmech was a sincere looking man with a ginger beard and silver eyes named Otto. Having removed his shirt, Mulligan was surprised to see the five inch laceration that ran down the lower side of his torso was much deeper than he suspected. Otto suggested suturing it closed, but Mulligan was pressed for time and refuted the treatment. The Medmech simply shrugged and bandaged the wound, warning the detective to "not push himself too hard."

Otto lay his head on Jana's chest as she reclined on a recovery bed and told her to take a couple of deep breaths. Mulligan held Jana's hand and couldn't help but notice how clammy it felt. After making some notes in his ledger, Otto turned to Mulligan with a grave expression and said, "Her lungs sound congested. I think it would be wise to leave her on ventilation to recover for a few days."
Mulligan nodded and asked, "She will be safe here, then?"
"Most certainly. We have plenty of fresh water and we always keep some rations on hand for visitors."
"Thank you, Doctor."
When the Medmech had finished setting up the ventilator, he bowed and stepped out of the room. Mulligan kneeled next to the bed on which Jana lay. The bellows of the machine rhythmically hissed as they rose and fell. A tube ran to a mask covering Jana's mouth and nose. As he took her hand, she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
"You have to go, I know", she said.
Mulligan felt torn at the prospect of leaving her in such a fragile state, but he knew she was right.
"You're going to be ok?"
"Give me a day or two and a new ship, and I will be right as rain", she joked.
Mulligan laughed. "When this is over, I will find you. After all I am still in your debt."
She grinned and said, "You know where to find me."
"Feel better, Jana", said Mulligan sadly as he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.
"Farewell, James", she whispered after him as he closed the door behind him.



CHAPTER 20
Tessa led Mulligan back to entry way where he found a clean and smiling Wolfgang waiting for him.
"Ah, Detective, you look a damn sight better! Will Captain Windfury be joining us?", he asked jovially.
"She needs some time to recover."
"Of course. Well then, off we go!" Wolfgang led James to a buggy and took his place on the driver's bench. Mulligan hopped in beside him and took the mask offered him by the Clockwork. Wolfgang engaged the drive mechanism. They took off with a click, click, click. Wolfgang expertly guided the vehicle around the perimeter of the building to a pair of large doors at the back of the building. They exited the outer doors and passed a cart stopped on the side of the road. Wolfgang waved to the driver who was busy winding the spring of the vehicle's engine.
"So nothing down here is steam powered", asked Mulligan who had been wondering about this question ever since they entered the Mechology.
"I'm afraid not. Ayumu knows we tried, but the air at this lower elevation is so thick with smog we couldn't get anything to burn efficiently enough to power a boiler. Spring power is not as convenient, but it gets the job done. Anyways, I've always enjoyed the comradery created by relying on each other for winds and such."
"Sounds like what Eliza Devonshire was saying", said James quietly.
At this Wolfgang brightened and asked, "Ah, you've met her then?"
"Yes", answered Mulligan, fearing what was coming next.
"How is she?"
Mulligan felt disheartened at having to answer the question, but knew there was no point in hiding the truth. "She's dead", he said bitterly.
The buggy swerved wildly for a moment as Wolfgang struggled to regain control.
"No! When!? How..."
"She was murdered, Wolfgang. I told you I was with M.C.A. Someone has been killing the Prime Models. I'm trying to stop them from killing again. That's why I need to get to the city."
Wolfgang's eyes shone wide with tears through his goggles.
"Right you are, Sir!", he said angrily. He shoved the levers forward as far as they could go to the point Mulligan was concerned they might break.
Nothing more was said between the two men as they drove. They reached the gates in the back of the compound and, after about 10 more minutes of driving, they came to a large silo shaped structure that disappeared into the blackness above them. The enormity of it was almost overwhelming to the Detective. Jutting out from the side of its circumference at periodic intervals were columned conveyers of massive metal buckets ascending into the impenetrable smog. At ground level, cart after cart laden with coal lined up to fill the pillar's containers. When one was filled it would rise up and the next one in line would take its place at the filling station.
"What is this thing?", whispered Mulligan.
"Officially it’s the central support for AeryLondon. But down here we call it 'The Tree'", offered Wolfgang in reply, his voice still a composite of confusion and anger. "You see all the coal elevators moving upwards along the structure? They go directly into the receiving bay that sits below the city's boilers. Come, this way. You'll find the passenger lift."
"The passenger lift" was a metal platform about five feet square with decorative railings around three of the sides. The fourth side was left open to admit occupants. Mulligan stepped gingerly onto the lift with growing concern about the device's structural integrity.
"Don't worry, Detective, the lift is powered by the city's boiler system", said Wolfgang. He then looked Mulligan square in the eyes and asked, "You will stop them, won't you, Detective?"
Mulligan nodded against his uncertainty.
Wolfgang flipped the lever and growled with more ferocity than Mulligan had ever heard come from any Clockwork, "Give the bastards hell for me!"

As the elevator ratcheted its way up the side of 'the tree', Mulligan noticed the temperature steadily dropping. By the time he broke through the smog it was near freezing. He cursed that he had lost his hat and pulled his jacket tighter around himself. Though he didn't need the mask anymore he left it on to conserve heat. The sun was no help as it was nearly set to the point of being just a streak of pinkish-orange peeking over the inky horizon. He looked up to see the massive blackness of the underside of the city's landmass spreading out before him. As he got closer he could see a small beam of copper light that began grow until it became clear it was an open hatch. The platform conveyed him through the aperture and sealed it beneath him with a final clang and a hiss. He found himself in a small very warm room made of glass. He stepped through the doors behind him into a cavernous hall filled with mountains of coal. At the end of the long room massive furnaces were being fed by legions of soot covered men. The heat became almost unbearable and he was compelled to remove his mask. He hailed a passing workman who became startled at his mysterious appearance and exclaimed, "Oi! You're not a Clockwork. 'Ow did you get in 'ere?"
Mulligan pulled his badge to identify himself and yelled over the noise, "This is an emergency! What's the quickest way to street level?!"
Obliged by the detective's urgency and symbol of authority, the workman sprang into action.
"Right this way, Sir!", he said as he took off at a run.
Mulligan followed him up several flights of stairs until they reached another spacious chamber filled with several boilers bigger than the largest of airships. With no time to gawk, they hurried to yet another lift.
This time when the worker slid the doors of the lift open, Mulligan stepped into the lobby of a surprisingly small building for what was going on in the basement. It had a front desk and two offices to the right. Through the windows on the left, Mulligan could see the darkened streets
of New London. He quickly grabbed his guide by the arm and said, "I need you to send a typograph to M.C.A.! Tell them to send a unit of agents to 1984 North Hollow Lane! Got it?!"
The wide-eyed man agreed and asked, "Do you need me to call you a ride, Sir?"
"No time!", exclaimed Mulligan, "Which way to the underground?!"
"Two blocks east."
"Thanks!", yelled Mulligan as he burst through the exit.

He ran till it felt his lungs were on fire. He alternated between wishing that he had his steamcycle and cursing the stitch in his side. Dark clouds blotting out the stars and threatening rain. He turned off the dank streets and dashed down a long set of stairs leading to the train platform. He ran past the station attendant with cries of "Ministry emergency". The sleepy looking fellow released the gates with little fanfare and returned to his reading as if this sort of thing happened on an hourly basis.
The platform was mostly deserted save for a few couples returning home who gaped at the disheveled detective as he ran towards the tracks. The little engine glistened in the station's lanterns and the whistle shrieked its dying wail. "All aboard", came the crackly voice of the station's phono system announcing the impending departure. The train's wheels spun for a moment on the polished metal rails and then found purchase causing the train to jolt forward. Mulligan ran down the platform and leapt onto the last car as it was passing into the tunnel.

They picked up speed quickly and soon were chugging through the subterranean tunnel at an alarming rate. Mulligan pulled his weapon and checked the gauge. The charge was getting low. Only enough for one or two good shots. "It'll have to be enough", he thought grimly. When they finally reached the Hope St. station, the detective leapt from the still moving car and slid across the stone platform. His muscles burned and his mouth tasted of iron in the frozen air as he tore up the stairs, but he did not slow down. His senses tuned out everything but the task which lay ahead. The dark streets became a blur around him and the sounds of city life were reduced to a dull buzzing in his ears.

He arrived at the town house with its cheerful red door just as a Ministry car pulled up.
"You!", he yelled at an officer exiting the passenger side of the vehicle, "What's going on here?! Am I too late?"
"Don't know, Sir", came the astonished reply, "We just got here."
"One of you go around back and wait, the other come with me", Mulligan commanded, "I'm going through the front!"
The officers drew their service weapons and made their way to their respective positions. Mulligan approached the front door, and, to his dismay, found it sitting slightly ajar.
"Lucy!", he yelled, but was received no response.
He kicked the door in and leveled the Sakai, expecting hostilities, but none came. The house was dark.
"Lucy!", he yelled again, louder this time.
"James?", Lucy's voice floated from upstairs, "Is that you?"
He heard footsteps on the creaking wooden staircase. Lucy stepped around the corner from the depths of the impenetrable shadows.
"James! Oh thank Ayumu!"
The happiness in her voice was only matched by the relief on her face.
"I was so worr..."
Something behind her flashed in the dark.
"Lucy! Get down!"
She flung herself forward as James pulled the trigger.
The ball hit the assassin high on the forehead, blowing his thoughtbox out the back. The Clockwork Slayer fell to the floor, twitching for several seconds, and then lay still.
The accompanying officer ran past Mulligan keeping his weapon trained on the downed automaton. Lucy threw herself into James' arms and held him for a long time in silence. Finally James looked into her copper colored eyes and said, "After I left, all I could think about was you."
She nodded and smiled as a tear ran down her cheek.
"Are you okay?", he asked
"Oh, James, when you didn't return that evening....I felt....afraid. And when I heard your voice, there was such happiness...I can't explain."
"It's okay, Lucy, you don't have to. I think I understand."
"Excuse me, Detective?", asked one of the officers, "Is she hurt?"
"No. No, thank you, officer. I think we are both going to be fine."
"Excellent, Sir. May I use your pneumagraph to notify the Ministry?"
Mulligan smiled broadly at the fellow, as his words came to Mulligan like an arcane lullaby announcing it was finally over. The specter of danger had been slain and they would be safe and happy for ever after.
"Yes!", said Mulligan, perhaps a bit to exuberantly. "Please, it's upstairs. The bedroom on the right."
"Thank you, Sir. And if I may say so, good show."