A/N: Um. Hi. I have several very bad excuses for this being three weeks late, which I will trot out now in a futile attempt to make you hate me slightly less.
1) The obligatory oh-my-God-my-life-is-so-busy, which is actually true. Seriously, people, it was this or sleep. And I gotta sleep SOMEtime.
2) Something called "winter" and another something called "really crappy weather," which meant that this time last week I had no power. For three days. My house was FORTY-FIVE degrees Fahrenheit during the day. Not fun. This also meant that I didn't have WiFi, and God forbid I screw up the day of my posting, so that happened.
3) Another fic, which I am actually pretty happy about. It stars my new favorite crossover ship, which is admittedly kind of insane, but whatever. I figured you'd hate me less if I gave you two things at once later than if I gave you less of that first, so yeah. Check it out if you've read/watched FMA so you'll hate me less... it's with Leviathan, obviously. It should be up later today or possibly early tomorrow.
So, yeah. That happened. Hopefully this chapter will earn me back some forgiveness...
Oh, yeah, and happy Valentine's Day, even if you celebrated it like I did (i.e., eating a piece of chocolate and then forgetting about it). Also, happy really late Chinese New Year...
Guest review time! And, God almighty, do I have a lot this chapter. :D In reverse chronological order, then:
Will: I think you mean "Salve ad tuam quoque"? ;) Yeah, Latin, the most useless language in existence. X) Thank you, and here ya go, at long, long last. :P
Lyra Endless: Thanks, but Julia456 ought to get some credit for that. She rewrote my entire description of the lobby. XD Glad you thought it was a break and not... I dunno... boring, too. Of course, we'll ALL miss Newkirk! TT_TT You'll find out some about Arty in this chapter... she doesn't really get a lot of screen time until Thirteen, though. You're a fan of hers, huh? :) Ooh, yay, someone else who reads these things! :D And actually, I've just read the manga, which is Brotherhood-verse, I guess. The entire manga. In two days. And yeah, I agree with you about the first one being worse, although, you know, I've just read summaries. And the ending sounds cool/sad. ANYWAY, thanks again! :D And here's your update. It's not soon, but... meh.
Guest: Um. I'm going to assume from the... tone... that that's the same person. Here you are!
DISCLAIMER: Is anyone else getting tired of these? Anyway, I'm not Scott Westerfeld. He'd never be too irresponsible to not update for this long...
Deryn made it her immediate business the next day—the lady boffin, in the name of "doctor's orders," had expressly forbidden her to before a "recovery period" was up—to visit Arty, an event from which she banned Alek but returned from with suspiciously red eyes. Alek was properly shocked—Deryn never cried, never, except for the time he'd confronted her about being a girl. Which hardly counted, because, Alek now realized, who wouldn't cry in that situation?
He himself paid a visit to Arty in her purple velvet- and gold-adorned suite—quite similar to his and Volger's, actually—and found her well enough, except for a persistent cough and fatigue, which she told him cheerfully Dr. Barlow had diagnosed as a minor upper respiratory tract infection, which she'd "shake off quite easily."
"But don't go thinking it's because I was out in the cold," Arty lectured him. "The bacteria that cause infections like this are more common in the winter, although the shock to my system may have made my immune system a little more susceptible. Really, the whole 'cold causes colds' thing is just a Clanker old wives' tale." She grinned and then coughed.
"Yes, Miss Black," said Alek meekly, and she laughed and coughed again.
After that, Deryn, Dr. Barlow, and he—leaving Volger sulking alone in his room—had splashed through a mercifully short walk to Regent's Park and the Zoo—it had ceased raining but was engaged in a miserable intermittent spitting sort of weather, which Deryn assured Alek was "barking normal for London." Dr. Barlow left immediately for one of the gatehouse lab buildings, leaving Deryn to conduct an outdoor tour consisting mostly of random snippets of facts she'd picked up about the military fabs aboard the Leviathan and information read off the signs bolted to the enclosures. At least she knew her way around; Alek nearly got lost twice, even with her riding herd on him the whole way, and was constantly bewildered by the raucous clamor sent up by the enclosed animals, particularly the birds and monkeys.
Most of the enclosures seemed rather large to Alek—the zoo's sole elephantine's in particular, as it had its own moat—but Deryn assured him that animals needed a large amount of space to live and grow properly. In any case, it was a marked contrast to the one Vienna menagerie Alek had visited—his experience of animals previous to meeting the Darwinists had pretty much consisted of horses and his father's vast collection of stuffed stag heads.
Then Dr. Barlow reappeared, her hat askew and cheeks flushed, and introduced them to Dr. Spencer, the elderly boffin who directed the Society, as well as a man who introduced himself as Peter Mitchell, at which point Deryn went "ohhh" under her breath but waved off Alek's puzzled look. After that, ten or so other boffins appeared, the majority of their wives in tow, and were briefly named as well. Mr. Barlow, however, was not in evidence; at this point, Alek was beginning to doubt the man's existence.
They spent the remainder of the day in Dr. Barlow's outer office, a boring room with filing cabinets overflowing with documents and diagrams of fabrications pinned on the walls, which Deryn spent a good ten minutes examining minutely. The lady boffin disappeared again into her lab, leaving her new assistants with a veritable pile of paperwork and vague instructions to fill it out. Deryn, of course, immediately came up with several ways to relieve the tedium, although various other members of the Society, mainly animal handlers, dropped in sporadically—no doubt on Dr. Barlow's orders—to introduce themselves and check that Alek and Deryn were, in fact, doing their work. Glumly, they applied themselves to their papers.
Several hours passed in this manner, during which the stream of visitors petered out slowly—Dr. Barlow apparently trusted Bovril to stand as chaperone, a misconception Alek was happy enough to let lie.
Soon, unfortunately, a permanently nosy boffin's wife appeared again at the door—her name was Mrs. Kirkland, or something of the sort, Alek couldn't quite remember—a wide smile gracing her face. She fluttered on for a good ten minutes about some fancy dress she was having made to resemble an exotic bird—as if what appeared to be two teenage boys would care in the least about her clothing choices—before asking, quite suddenly, "You boys are coming to the party, aren't you?"
"Pardon me, ma'am?" Deryn asked, looking up from where she was sketching some fabrication with a pen on the back of her paperwork, quite obviously bored out of her mind.
"What party?" Bovril chimed in.
Mrs. Kirkland simpered. "Why, the New Year's fancy dress ball, of course! In three days at the Savoy! You mean to say Dr. Barlow hasn't told you about it, and here I've been rattling on about my costume? You must think me mad!" She tittered nervously.
Alek and Deryn shared a look. "No, ma'am," Alek said, speaking for both of them, "Dr. Barlow hasn't said anything about a party. Are we to come?"
Mrs. Kirkland blinked. "Yes, indeed. You are a part of the Society now, and it's quite the thing. Everyone's been planning their costumes for weeks, and you hadn't a notion?" She looked utterly horrified.
"No, ma'am," said Bovril, in an excellent imitation of Deryn's most polite voice.
She smiled at it, apparently entirely ready to accept it as a conversational equal. "Such a charming little creature! Well, of course, I'll be happy to help you two with anything you might need with your costumes. Even if Dr. Barlow's so busy all the time, messenger terns in and out at all hours..." She cast a pointed glance at the closed laboratory door, clearly not at all approving of Dr. Barlow's work.
"Thank you, ma'am," said Deryn with admirable sobriety. "We'll be sure to ask if we need anything. Although I am a dab hand at sewing, I'm sure Alek would appreciate a little assistance." She elbowed him, smirking.
The boffin's wife gave a high-pitched laugh. "Certainly, ah, Dylan. Well, I just dropped in to chat a bit, and I simply must go now, but it was nice talking to you boys a bit more. Goodbye!"
"Goodbye!" Alek, Deryn, and Bovril chorused. As the door swung shut behind Mrs. Kirkland, Deryn grimaced.
"Reminds me of Auntie Agnes," she muttered. "Although not quite as decrepit."
"Unfortunate," commented Bovril, and Alek couldn't help but agree. If he'd been brought up by someone like that, he would have run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
Deryn's mouth twitched at the loris' comment, and suddenly they were both laughing hysterically, Bovril adding its own insane cackle. Alek swiped at his watering eyes and managed to gasp, "If that's what your aunt is like, I'd tremble to meet your mother."
"Bloody right you would," said Deryn with a straight face, then dissolved into giggles again. It was a good five minutes before both of them fully regained their composure.
"But, aye," she said, her laugh remaining tucked up in the corners of her eyes, "we've got to figure out what we're going as. It's a chance to make an impression, if everyone's really there."
Alek shrugged. "I've never been to one of these things. Have you?" The idea seemed rather foolish, honestly. Everyone in costumes? Trust the British to come up with something like this.
"No," she admitted, then frowned. "Dances, aye. Costume balls, not so much. Although it can't be that hard," she added, brightening. "Perhaps Bovril could pick for us."
They started giggling again like schoolgirls at that, quite out of proportion to the actual humor of the statement, and eventually ended up sprawled flat across the table, making very loud choking noises that no longer much resembled laughter. Alek's ribs were aching so much that he was having problems intaking air.
Dr. Barlow stuck her bowlered head out of the lab and snapped, "Will you kindly cease cackling like a pair of hyenas and get back to work? Some of us need peace and quiet for important matters!"
"Kindly," her loris emphasized. Deryn straightened up reluctantly, scowling slightly, clearly appreciating the interruption as little as the lady boffin did.
"Sorry, ma'am," Alek said meekly, before Deryn could say something she'd regret. "It won't happen again, I promise."
"See to it that it doesn't," her loris said coldly, and Dr. Barlow retreated back into the laboratory.
Alek sat staring at the closed door for an instant, then said, "Well, at least she hadn't died in there. I was beginning to worry."
They returned to their paperwork trying desperately to choke down giggles. Alek suspected his handwriting was suffering greatly, but he doubted Dr. Barlow would notice.
Dr. Barlow dragged them to the Zoo again the next day to waste another day in paperwork-based drudgery. Volger remained at the hotel, moping again after being told about the ball—Dr. Barlow had told him quite firmly that, as an honorary member of the Society, he was expected to attend, and in a suitable costume. Arty's cough had worsened, and she was now running a fever, so she remained in her room. Dr. Barlow, who seemed only slightly worried, had taken a sample from her and said she'd test it for some sort of bacteria in her lab.
At least it wasn't raining today, and the sun was making a sincere effort to break through the ever-present clouds. An occasional ray of watery sunlight even crept through the window of the office, where Dr. Barlow had left them with vague orders about alphabetization of some documents. She had also been considerate enough today to leave Tazza in their care—Alek despaired of getting anything done, especially since Deryn had procured a key for the office somewhere, and they would likely be assured of privacy, as long as they weren't too loud.
By the time Tazza had mercifully fallen asleep, they were engaged in a somewhat quiet discussion of the vague mention Dr. Barlow had made this morning of a possible mission in a few weeks, the documents they were supposed to be sorting completely forgotten and mainly strewn across the floor, thanks to Tazza's excited rampages. Alek thought that it would probably have something to do with the project Dr. Barlow was so ardently working on, while Deryn maintained that it would be a "proper spying bit" in a Clanker country.
"We'll probably have to wear disguises," she said excitedly, then frowned. "Blisters, I hope Dr. Barlow doesn't make me go as a barking girl. She said she might."
Alek tried not to show how appealing this possibility was on his face. He was rather curious about how Deryn would look in a dress, to be honest. "Well, probably only if she wants you to look weak," he said. "And besides, I'm telling you, we won't—"
"Wait a squick," she interrupted him, wiggling out from under his arm and raising her fist in a soldier's "stop" gesture. "What did you just say? About girls being weak?"
Alek paused, aware he was entering dangerous territory, and tried to backpedal. "What I meant was that men perceive women as being, um, weaker. Not that they actually are—although it's true, of course, physically speaking," he couldn't resist adding.
"Is that so, your ex-princeliness?" Deryn said, turning to face him fully with eyebrows dangerously high. "Because I seem to have a recollection of you having a bit of trouble with the ratlines—and Newkirk, too, I might add—while I'm barking quick." She smirked.
"Yes, well, that's you," Alek said. Bovril's head was swiveling back and forth like a spectator's at a tennis match, clearly enjoying the discussion but not willing to contribute quite yet. "It's been scientifically proven that men are stronger than women."
"Aye, Mr. Hohenberg? And since when have you known clart about science?" Alek flushed and opened his mouth to retort, but Deryn wasn't done yet. "Besides, women have better endurance. Indisputably. What about bloody childbirth? That's hours and hours of work, and I don't reckon men have ever been in labor."
Alek felt himself blushing—sometimes the Darwinists' blatant frankness was too much for him still—but managed to muster a, "That's different. It doesn't count. It's men who run for hours on end in competitions—now there's endurance."
Deryn ignored him completely, continuing in the same vein. "And women have higher pain tolerance, too—labor's barking painful as well. Any man would be screaming like a baby."
"Not true, Mr. Sharp," he retorted. Bovril chuckled but didn't speak, even at the sound of its favorite phrase. "Men are tougher as well."
"Oh, aye? Then why do you squeal like a stuck pig every time I do this?" She reached over and punched him very hard indeed in the arm. Despite himself, Alek couldn't hide his wince. She smirked triumphantly. "See? You wouldn't catch me acting that much of a ninny over a wee bit of a roughing-up. Higher pain tolerance." She crossed her arms, the smirk there to stay.
"If everything you just said about superior strength, endurance, and pain tolerance is true, then why can't women be soldiers or do other dangerous jobs?" Alek countered, a smirk of his own playing around his mouth. He had her there.
Deryn sucked in a breath, eyes narrowing. "All right, then, if you really did just barking say that, let's settle this in a proper boyish way, aye? With an arm-wrestling contest."
"With—wh-what?" Alek stammered. "But that's ridiculous!"
She shrugged, shoulders moving under her new jacket—she'd bought herself some clothes last night, presumably with her Service pay. Dr. Barlow had mentioned an income from the Society, but it had not yet materialized, and Alek was finding that his own clothes were slightly shabby. "Like I said, proper boyish. Unless you're too scairt to take on a weak lassie?" Her blue eyes, as they met his, were sparkling but also contained a challenge.
Alek swallowed. He was committed. There was no way he could back down now without seriously injuring whatever remnants of pride Deryn hadn't already beaten out of him. "All right," he said, watching her pull out a chair at the small table in the center of the room and take a seat, propping her elbow on the table's fabricated wood surface. Suddenly a brilliant idea flitted across his mind, and he grinned. "On one condition."
"Aye?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. "And what would that be?"
"Well, do you remember about the costume ball?" Alek asked, grin still in place.
"Aye! Get to the barking point!"
He drew out his own chair and sat, looking her right in the eye. "Well, I was thinking that we could settle that issue now. The loser of this contest," he felt his smile widen still further, "has to wear a dress to the party."
Deryn's eyebrows went up. "So it's to be a bet, then?" She thought a moment, a tiny frown etched between her eyebrows, then grinned suddenly. "All right, you're on. But only because there's no way in blazes I won't toast your bum."
Alek propped his own forearm up and grasped hands with her. What had seemed like a brilliant ploy to get Deryn in a dress without having to resort to pleading a few moments ago seemed just as brilliant now... if he won.
He would readily admit that it was a little risky, especially because of the remarkable strength Deryn had displayed in the past and the fact that he himself had never actually arm-wrestled before. But it was too late to back out of the wager now. And besides, he had to, surely.
"Three..." said Deryn, "two... one... go!"
Immediately she had the upper hand, bearing down on his arm with crushing force. Alek struggled, feeling his bicep tighten desperately and a drop of sweat trickle down his face, but it was already too late. He saw the muscles in Deryn's arm contract as she pushed his steadily lower and lower, finally slamming it to the table and making the whole structure shudder.
Deryn pinned it there for a few seconds, just to make her point, then raised both her arms above her head in victory. "And the lassie wins yet again!" she congratulated herself, then pointed at Alek, smirking. "And you, Mr. Hohenberg, have to wear a dress to the party!"
He'd lost. He'd lost, and now she'd make him pay. "That I do," he agreed glumly.
Deryn laughed, reaching for his chin and leaning across the table to seal the bet with a kiss.
Alek was dreamily thinking something along the lines of, Perhaps my humiliation was worth this, when Dr. Barlow cleared her throat somewhere behind them.
They broke apart and whipped around simultaneously, Alek's thoughts doing an about-face to an irrelevant, Not again. She was regarding both them and the documents scattered across the floor with a mixture of displeasure and something not unlike amusement.
"May I remind you," she said, "that although Miss Sharp has most ingeniously procured the key to the outer office door, the door to my laboratory is not locked. A fact which you would do well to remember."
"Ma'am, we're really—" Deryn started, very red indeed, but Dr. Barlow cut her off.
"No need to apologize," she said calmly, then gave a small smile. "Contrary to what you might think, I do in fact remember being sixteen. I don't quite care what you get up to, so long as no one else sees you and you mind yourselves in public. I imagine it would be quite a nasty shock to someone. Although," she gave the floor a pointed look, "I would appreciate it if the paperwork is done at some point."
"Yes, ma'am," said Alek, feeling that his ears were, judging by their heat, still glowing red. "Thank you, ma'am."
"You're quite welcome," said the lady boffin, taking Tazza by his collar and clicking her tongue at him. "Although, if I may make a suggestion, you should avoid the wildcount in particular. I very much doubt he enjoys nasty shocks, nor do I think he will be quite this... tolerant."
And with that, she retreated back into her lab, the door swinging shut with resounding finality behind her.
"Tolerant," said Bovril, then sniggered. "Mr. Hohenberg. Quite a foolish wager."
Well, if you don't know where this is heading, you've been severely deprived of an important part of the Leviathan fan experience, but anyway, yeah. I gave you your obligatory Valentine's Day fluff AND another walk-in ;D They're just too hilarious to pass up on. Ah, Dr. Barlow, how we love thee, especially now you have joined the Barger-Inners' Club ;P
Hmm, I wonder what Dr. Barlow's mysteriously fabulous top-secret project might be? :D You just might have to wait to find out, I'm afraid. :D
I will honor you forever in my Hall of People Mentioned in A/Ns if you get the world's most obscure reference I stuck in here mainly out of laziness. I seriously doubt you will, though, considering I had to point it out to my friend, who's as obsessed with what it's to as I am...
Alek's failures at life are amusing, no? XD That argument was fun-tastic to write, for whatever reason. I mean, I had to, but I had to like fill in the details, so to speak, and I kept laughing like an insane person as I was typing. :D
A note on the Zoological Society's layout: I based it mainly off of an obsessive perusal of Scott's description in the first book; for instance, he says that Dr. Barlow came out of the gatehouse with the egg crate, and that there was an elephantine. And a moat. However, I have also found a PRIMARY SOURCE. :D It was written by our friend P.C. Mitchell in 1911 (if you didn't recall, he was the chap who wrote Dr. Barlow the note about the meteorite in Goliath) and is the "Official guide of the gardens of the Zoological Society", complete with pictures of animals and a map! (Yes, I did research this obsessively.) If you're as obsessed as I am and would like to see it firsthand, here's the link, phonic'd to thwart FanFiction's charming paranoia: haitch-tee-tee-pee-ess-colon-slash-slash-archive-dot-oh-are-gee-slash-details-slash-cu31924003401985
Simply replace the phonetic letters and symbols with the appropriate regular letter and symbols, and off you go! Anyway, yeah. They did have a moat (okay, a CANAL), but sadly it was not used for the elephant enclosure. They also had thylacines (as mentioned in Leviathan's afterword) but no lorises (lemurs and aye-ayes, though). :(
That over with, I'd like to take this time to mention again my beta, who is awesome simply because she read this chapter over with less than a day's notice despite her crazy life. :D
And finally, we come to reviews. Oh my God, the reviews. TWELVE. For one chapter. Admittedly, I gave you a very long time indeed to compose them, but that doesn't change the fact that we're up to a total of sixty now. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, followed, and read. There hasn't been a negative comment in the lot, and I love the idea that some of you might be as devoted to this story as I am.
I think this update gap has proved something, though: one a week is getting to be too much for me now, especally with my other fic, so for the duration of "crashed", y'all are going to get a chapter every other week. I'm sorry, but we'll get there, I promise, and I honestly think I can do a better job with the extra time.
Meanwhile, y'all can make yourselves useful and REVIEW! ;D