Work Text:
The more he saw of it, the more Ford got the unmistakeable sense that this castle had been designed for many more people. He could easily picture life; rows of armed guards marching to war, or courtiers in frilly coats making refined merry. But all he saw as he was escorted down dark vaulted halls were froglike automatons, their dead eyes shining green.
He had come here out of desperation. He was trapped in this dimension, his translocation equipment fried by water when he’d fallen into a chest-deep swamp on arrival. The damage wasn’t too bad; he could repair it even with modern technology, but all he had found here were miserable swamps, monstrous creatures, and pre-industrial villages of suspicious amphibians where rumours lingered like a bad smell.
Those rumours had told him of a way out, a mysterious floating castle north of the ruined capital that supposedly held a portal to other worlds. He hadn’t really expected to find the place as described; he’d been picturing a castle high in the mountains, ancient and abandoned, but this was something else.
What he had found was a flying fortress and manufactory, held aloft in a storm by engines that burned with green light. It was inhabited too, but only by machines; robots who saw and spoke for their mysterious master. And that master wanted to see him.
Finally, he was led into the heart of the castle, into a vast library above the churning engine decks below that kept this thing flying. The machines had claimed this, too; pipes punctured the walls, between the heavy bookcases, and massive display screens hung on moving arms from the ceiling.
Half a dozen more robots were on-guard, weapons ready, but in the corner stood the first sign of organic life in this dead citadel. A giant avian creature loomed under a vaulted arch, its head and chest hidden behind brassy metal armour. But even it wasn’t safe; its right eye and one leg were replaced by more machinery.
“Who are you? How did you get here?” The demanding voice was familiar; it was the same one that had ordered him up here, relayed through the robots. But now it wasn’t distorted by their speakers he could hear it clearly; it sounded young, far younger than he had been expecting. And looking up, his gaze settling on the centre of the room, he finally had a face to put to it.
It wasn’t the face he had imagined. A human child, scarce fourteen if he had to guess, glared down at him from a high throne, surrounded by piles of books. Her eyes were dark and her hair darker, a mess of shiny black held parted by a green barrette. A long, hooded cape hung down from her back, while her shoulders were crowned in white fur turned sickly green in the light. In the shadows below he could make out a grey bodysuit, dark veins rippling across its surface.
“I’m just a traveller,” he replied cautiously. “I’m trying to get back to my own dimension.” It wasn’t a lie, but there was a lot he wasn’t saying and the girl seemed to notice. Her eyes narrowed; she looked up at one of the displays beside her, then back.
“Fine,” she said bluntly, something bitter creeping into her voice. “I’ll send you back to Earth.”
He wanted to correct her, to tell her that he was from another Earth, a handful of dimensions over, and that it would take a lot more than that to get him home. But alarms bells went off in his mind before he could say; mistrust had kept him alive so far, and he wasn’t going to stop listening to it now.
“You have a portal to Earth?” he questioned. The girl nodded, murmuring affirmatively. “Then why are you here? Why haven’t you gone home?” She suddenly tensed, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as she got slowly to her feet.
“Home?” Her expression hardened, one hand pressing against her chest for a moment before she threw her arms wide. “This is my home!” Her eyes turned green, glowing dimly, and suddenly her voice boomed through the robots again. “I’m the Eternal Overseer, and I am never leaving this place!”
He had touched a nerve, he realised belatedly. He could hear the lump in her throat, and in the silence that followed her breaths were shaky. Something had clearly happened to her, he realised; had she made a mistake, like he had? Had she abandoned her homeworld by choice, or was she trapped in this mechanical mausoleum by forces yet unknowable?
“Very well,” he sighed, knowing it wasn’t his place to ask, even as unfamiliar concern rose in his gut. “Just show me to the portal, and I’ll be on my way.”
The room she brought him to was the opposite of what Ford had been expecting. He had envisioned another dark chamber, littered with the machinery of the castle. Instead the girl led him up through dusty hallways and grand staircases, higher and higher, into parts of the castle that hadn’t yet been overrun with machines.
He found himself talking as they went, spilling out stories of his adventures and how he’d got to this point. He steered away from telling her about his brother, or his deal with Bill, or any of his other mistakes; she seemed equally secretive, barely mentioning anything about herself. By the time they stopped she seemed a lot more comfortable, but he still didn’t even know her name.
Finally they came to another room: this one was larger, with shattered glass windows exposing the stormy sky outside. Ornate, crumbling columns flanked the walls, and down the far end of the chamber was a throne far too large for the little overseer girl, made from what almost looked like coral. Before it stood an empty plinth with three deep channels carved into it, but there was no sign of any portal equipment.
She came to a halt in front of it, gesturing for him to stop, and as he watched she reached into her cloak. From inside she produced an oblong shape wrapped in dark paper, tied carefully up with coarse string. Her fingers, quick and witchy, unwrapped it with practiced ease, and she held the object beneath with delicate reverence.
It was a box, a small thing cast in gold and dark metals. Amphibian scenes covered its sides, and in its lid three gems sat prominently. Two were a dull grey, devoid of life, but the third shone a now-familiar shade of green.
“You might wanna stand back,” the girl broke the silence; her voice was awkward, uncertain without the presence her throne and automata afforded her, and he got the inescapable sense she hadn’t spoken to another human in a long time.
She set the box down and held her hand over it, closing her eyes. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and suddenly the green gem lit up brightly. In the side of the plinth a channel ignited, flooded with the same colour, and below the floor rumbled. The machinery of the castle seemed to kick into high gear; the sound became a cacophony, engines churning, auxiliaries lurching online, and power surging under the sudden strain.
The other two channels lit up green; the other two gems on the box flickered, dim light glowing beneath their glassy surfaces. Both were muddied, blue and purple tinged by that same green glow, and the overseer’s face scrunched up. Ford got the distinct sense that something was wrong here, that she was somehow brute-forcing energy into the box, but he didn’t dare try and stop her.
There was a musical, jingling sound; in a flash of light a swirling portal opened at the throne’s base, white with green tinting its edges. The girl stepped back, away from it, wiping her forehead with one arm, but the rumble of machinery didn’t diminish.
“There,” she said bluntly. “You can go. That’ll take you straight back to Earth, courtesy of the Eternal Overseer.” For a brief moment she smiled with pride, something of the child she really was bubbling up from underneath her cold façade.
“Thanks,” Ford replied, even as part of his brain rebelled. He wanted to ask her why she was here, if she was lonely, if she was like him. Or if there was something else going on here, some reason a girl her age was trapped alone with control over all this. But he couldn’t bring himself to, the question refusing to be said, so he turned away.
“Mr. Pines?” she asked suddenly; he looked back to see her gaze was on the floor, her hands nervously clasped together. Suddenly she wasn’t the ‘Eternal Overseer’, she was just a nervous kid again. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”
“What is it?” He raised an eyebrow. She swallowed, her face setting with forced determination.
“On the other side, can you find someone for me?” she asked quietly. “I need you to go to three-oh-one Granum Street; the portal should put you in the right area. Just go there, and tell them I…” she trailed off, taking a deep breath. “That Marcy Wu is doing okay?”
Having a name for her seemed to only make it easier to care. He didn’t know all the details, and he’d never been any good at things like this, but he couldn’t help his feelings. He was determined to help her somehow. So he softened his tone, turning back to face her.
“Who lives there?” he asked. “Why d’you need me to talk to them?” Marcy tensed at that, fidgeting nervously with her hands. She sighed.
“I guess it doesn’t matter if I tell you,” she began quietly, hanging her head. “Her name’s Anne; she was my best friend once, but now I don’t think she’ll ever want to see me again.” Her fists clenched. “But I still don’t want her worrying about me. Part of me thinks I should talk to her, but I don’t wanna leave this… my home, a-and I still think she probably hates me by now.”
“But what if she doesn’t?” He couldn’t help asking. “What if this Anne girl misses you as much as you miss her?”
“I don’t…” she trailed off, slumping forwards as she realised he had seen right through her. “Am I really that obvious?” He nodded, and she sighed again. “Look, I don’t know if I can face her again. So, just go and talk to her for me? Please?” And suddenly, he knew just what he wanted to say.
“Or,” he raised one hand, putting on the most reassuring smile a weary dimension-traveller could muster, “come back with me, and see her again yourself?”