Agatha H. and the Airship City

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In a small clearing, an intricate device of glass and metal tubes scanned the night skies. The stars glittered. Barry Heterodyne sat back and rubbed his eyes. Nothing. Around him the nighttime sounds of frogs and insects filled the marsh air. He glanced over at the campsite. Bill sat in front of the black flames, endlessly cleaning his weapons.

Barry sighed. His worry about the state of his brother’s mind was steadily increasing. It had been three years since the explosions had ripped through Castle Heterodyne, killing Bill’s infant son and covering the escape of his wife’s abductors. Three years without a clue to the identity of the perpetrators, a ransom note, or indeed, any information at all.

Barry pulled out a pocket watch and flipped open the cover to check its glowing numerals. He then pulled out a pad of foolscap covered with equations and, for the hundredth time, checked his calculations. He sighed again. It all balanced out. If this was another blind alley—

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