The League of Seven (13 page)

“The Pennsylvania Pneumatic Post Office should be the fastest way to send a message from here, miss. Operating hours are eight to five Monday through Friday, with service until noon on Saturday. Automated postage stamp sales are available in the lobby, as are private post office boxes, which can be rented for a dollar a month. The Pennsylvania Pneumatic Post Office is the busiest post office in the United Nations of America, posting hundreds of thousands of—”

“We don't need the whole entry,” Hachi said, cutting him off. “We just need to know where it is.”

“The Pennsylvania Pneumatic Post Office is located on Eighth Avenue, across the street from—”

“Better yet,” Hachi said, “just show us.”

*   *   *

The Pennsylvania Pneumatic Post Office on Eighth Avenue, across the street from the Pennsylvania Railway Station, was, as Mr. Rivets had tried to say, the busiest post office in the United Nations—if not the known world. Hundreds of thousands of pneumatic tubes of all sizes came and went every day at reported speeds of up to twenty miles per hour. If you couldn't mail it from the Penn Post Office, it couldn't be mailed by pneumatic post. In the marble above its Corinthian columns on the front of the building was written,
“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these cylinders from the swift delivery of their anointed dispatches.”

Archie, Hachi, Fergus, and Mr. Rivets climbed the marble steps of the Penn Post Office to an open, two-story lobby filled with light. The place was packed. Some people checked post office boxes, others waited at stamp machines, still more stood in line to send or receive posts. At the far end of the room was a row of teller windows, and behind them, stretching from floor to ceiling, were the brass pneumatic tubes that connected to every other p-mail station up and down the Eastern Seaboard. One or two, Archie knew, even went as far as the Republic of California and New Spain.
Thoomp thoomp thoomp thoomp thoomp thoomp thoomp
—the cylinders flew nonstop in and out of tubes as thin as pencils (for pneumatigrams) and as big as Mr. Rivets (for oversized parcels). They crisscrossed up and under and over each other in a maze of brass, glass, and valves. This was the Grand Central Station of pneumatic mail.

“I think I could live here,” Fergus said in awe. Archie watched as the black lines on Fergus' skin shifted and changed, mimicking the maze of tubes on the far wall. Archie wondered if Fergus even knew it was happening. But Archie wasn't the only one staring.

“Get a good look, did you?” Fergus asked a particularly gawky Seneca woman with a stroller. She squeaked and hurried away.

“I suppose I've become a right monster, haven't I?” Fergus asked.

“
They're
the monsters, not you,” Hachi told him. She pulled up on her scarf. “Let's go.”

Mr. Rivets steered them toward the shortest line, but they still had a bit of a wait.

“So, these Mangleborn,” Hachi said quietly. “There's more than one of them?”

“There's Antaeus the Unbeatable, in Cahokia In The Clouds,” Archie said. “The Eater of Children, entombed in the Republic of Texas. Grumalch the Boar-Headed, buried somewhere near Cincinnatus. Yog-vorantha, Queen of the White Wastes, watched over by the Inuit tribes. Those are just a few my parents told me about.”

“Bet you had a really easy time getting to sleep when you were little, eh?” Fergus said.

Hachi frowned at the news that there were more of these things, buried all over the United Nations—all over the world—but they were up to the counter before she could say anything more. Mr. Rivets dictated a brief message, which the clerk punched in on a steam-powered keyboard. He tore the paper out and rolled it into a slender pneumatigram tube.

“That'll be ten cents,” he said.

“Oh, um—” Archie said, realizing he had no money.

“Not to worry, sir,” Mr. Rivets said. He withdrew a dime from a pocket-drawer on his fake brass vest. Archie fumbled it, clumsy and useless as always, and bent down to get it.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Three metal stars with blades for points buried themselves in the wooden counter right where Archie had been standing. He came back up with the dime and stared at them.

“What the—?” he began.

“Get down!” Hachi cried. Mr. Shinobi, Edison's meka-ninja, was running straight toward them from the lobby with a long sword in its hands.

“Circus, showtime!” Hachi said. Her four remaining animals burst out from her bandolier and hovered in front of her. “Interference!” she told them, and they hummed off to harry the Tik Tok again. “You two! Behind the counter! Go!” she told Archie and Fergus.

Hachi leaped toward the black machine man. It swung its sword—
whhht!
—but Hachi was already ducking it. She slid between the meka-ninja's legs and popped up behind it, dagger raised.

“Whoa,” said Fergus.

“Yeah,” said Archie.

Clink!
A smaller sword popped out of Mr. Shinobi's back and deflected her blow. A third arm! The Tik Tok's head spun, and Archie saw another pair of glowing red eyes open on the back of its head. It held off Hachi while it advanced on Archie and Fergus.

“MisterRivetsMisterRivetsMisterRivets!” Archie cried, backing into the post office counter. Clerks and customers ran screaming.

Mr. Shinobi raised its sword. Archie and Fergus cowered.

Clang!

The meka-ninja's long, curved sword rang out on Mr. Rivets' back as he bent over to cover Archie and Fergus.

“Mr. Rivets! Fight! Help Hachi!” Archie said.

“Alas, sir, my Protector card is back on the
Hesperus
. If you will recall, I have in my New Rome and Surrounding Areas Visitors Guide.”

“Then tell it how to get to the Union Grounds lacrosse field!”

“Ah, yes, sir.” Mr. Rivets stood and turned toward the meka-ninja. “A trip to see the New Rome Knickerbockers can be one of the most pleasurable pursuits for any visitor, especially those traveling with young children. The field is serviced by pneumatic subway, elevated train, or by street car. To arrive by subway—”

“Behind the counter. Let's go!” Archie told Fergus. They scrambled behind the wooden desk and hid while Hachi attacked the meka-ninja from the back and Mr. Rivets bored it with entries from the New Rome and Surrounding Areas Visitors Guide from the front.

“I'm starting to think we ought to just leave his Protector card in,” Fergus said.

Crunch
. The desk behind them snapped in half. Archie looked up to see Mr. Shinobi yanking his long sword out of the wood.

“Run!” cried Archie. He pulled Fergus to his feet. There had to be a place to hide among the forest of brass pipes that hummed at the back of the room, still active but abandoned by fleeing postal workers.

Fergus limped along behind him, falling off the pace. “I can't run!” he called.

The meka-ninja leaped over the counter, landing silently on padded feet. Its head swiveled to focus on Archie and Fergus.

“I'll distract it!” Archie yelled. He veered off toward a pile of incoming packages. “Hey! Hey meka-ninja! Over here!”

Only after he said it did Archie realize what a flange he was. What was he supposed to do when the meka-ninja
did
come after him?

But it didn't. It ignored him and kept running for Fergus.

“Steambrain!” Archie said, cursing himself. “Fergus is the one Edison wants!”

Fwip-fwip-fwip
. Three tiny darts shot from the meka-ninja's arm and hit Fergus square in the back. Fergus spun and fell into one of the big pneumatic tubes. He grabbed the “Send” plunger as he fell, and gaped in surprise as the cylinder slid closed around him.

There was a pneumatic whoosh of air and—
thoomp
—Fergus was gone.

Archie stared at the empty space where Fergus had been as Hachi and Mr. Rivets ran up to him. Hachi had a long, bleeding gash down one arm.

“He—Fergus—he—” Archie started to say.
Ding!
Another capsule slid down to replace the one Fergus had left in, and the meka-ninja hopped inside. It pushed the “Send” plunger, and—
thoomp
—it was gone.

“It just—they both—” Archie started again.

Ding!
Another capsule slid down into place. Hachi grabbed Archie, pulled him into the capsule with her, and slapped the “Send” plunger.

“I'll just wait here for the return post, shall I?” Mr. Rivets asked.

The capsule closed, and the world dropped away beneath Archie and Hachi's feet.

 

13

Archie and Hachi hit the ceiling of the capsule, then tumbled when it turned horizontal. The capsule twisted and turned in its tube, shaking them up like dice in a cup. The capsules were made for packages, not people. Archie suddenly understood why every parcel they'd ever gotten by pneumatic post was creased and dented. He had just gotten up on his elbows when the capsule spun again and he landed flat on his face. It dipped again and he hit the roof. It leveled out again, and he fell onto Hachi.

“Slag it—
oof
—this is—
ow
—”

Archie and Hachi were a tangle of arms and legs. He tried to brace himself for the next turn, but it was useless. There was nothing to hold onto inside the smooth round capsule, and he had no idea where it was going next anyway.

The capsule thumped to a stop and opened, and Archie and Hachi rolled out into a pile of crates.
This is what clothes must feel like in a washing machine,
Archie thought as he untangled himself. A woman screamed, and Archie saw Fergus in the far corner, fending off the meka-ninja with a wooden mannequin.

“Where are we?”

“Macy's Department Store. Package Delivery,” said Hachi.

“How do you know that?”

Hachi pointed to a sign on the wall. It said
MACY'S DEPARTMENT STORE. PACKAGE DELIVERY
.

“Oh.”

Customers and clerks lined the walls, trying to get as far away from the killer machine man as possible. Fergus jabbed at Mr. Shinobi with the wooden mannequin, keeping the Tik Tok at bay, while Hachi's Tik Tok animals tugged on the meka-ninja's sword arm. Mr. Shinobi used its free hand to pull a new weapon from a slot on its leg. It was two wooden sticks connected by a short length of chain. Its hand began to twirl, and the weapon whirred like a propeller blade.
Whack-whack-whack-whack!
The meka-ninja chopped the wooden mannequin to pieces.

“Crivens!” Fergus cried. The meka-ninja backed him into a corner, and Fergus threw what was left of the mannequin into the whirling weapon. “Help!”

Hachi went after the machine man, her dagger drawn, but Archie had a better idea. He grabbed a pair of scissors from the wrapping counter, tied them to a roll of twine, and tossed them into Mr. Shinobi's spinning weapon.
Fwip-fwip-fwip-fwip!
The twirling propellers sucked up the twine like a fishing rod reeling in a catch. Within seconds the meka-ninja's hand was wrapped in a big useless ball of string and the weapon hung limp.

“Brass!” said Fergus.

Mr. Shinobi stared at the mess of twine on its hand, then started to hack away at it with its sword.

“Slag! Slag! Slag!” said Fergus.

Hachi grabbed Fergus and dragged him toward the pneumatic tubes.

“Oh no,” Archie said. “I'm not getting back in there. No way. Two people is bad enough. There's not room for three.”

The meka-ninja cut through the last of the twine and turned on them, its red eyes glowing.

“Scootch in! Scootch in!” Archie cried, pushing his way into the capsule.

Hachi whistled her flying circus back and smacked the plunger. Archie only saw three of her four toys make it back, but he didn't have time to say anything before the door slid closed and—
thoomp
—they were gone. There was less room to be tossed around this time, but that didn't make it any less painful. Archie took an elbow to the gut, a fist to the head, and accidentally kneed Fergus in the kilt. They flew up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right.

“Ba!” Archie cried. They thumped to another stop and tumbled out onto a rooftop loading dock. An enormous skyliner airship floated above them, its long cigar-shaped gasbag painted orange and red, the colors of Apache Air. A young Yankee woman wearing a blue-and-white sailor dress was loading crates into its hold with a steam winch. When she spotted the three of them, she climbed down out of the loading crane and pushed her Apache Air sailor hat aside to scratch her head.

“You're not Mrs. Nittawosew's new mink coat,” she said.

Archie helped Fergus to his feet while Hachi scouted the loading dock.

“Watch your knees in there, mate,” Fergus told him.

“Sorry,” said Archie.

“We're seven stories up,” Hachi told them.