The City in the Sky
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 replace 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.”