“Oh, very well,” said the vampire petulantly.
They continued down the hallway, finally reaching the suite of rooms set aside for Sophronia’s year group. She opened the door and gestured to the others to enter.
Sophronia hissed in an aside to the headmistress as she passed, “Do you have the codes as well as the keys?”
“Codes?”
“To activate the soldier mechanicals.”
“You think that’s wise? After all, the soldier mechanicals are still mechanicals, and the Picklemen are in control of them.”
“I don’t think Lady Linette would be so foolish as to install new valves in the school’s only major defense system. After all, it’s the valve that is the true danger.”
“That could be perceived as na?ve, my dear. The valve is only their latest endeavor. They could have been planning this for a very long time, in which case even the most primitive models are suspect.”
The headmistress moved into the parlor and collapsed onto a small chaise longue while Sophronia locked and bolted the door. She also set up a noise trap, using a propped chair and Dimity’s hair receiver. When they roomed together, the ugly little pot used to drive Sophronia crazy. If it got broken when someone opened the door, so much the better.
“Should we go into my private sleeping chamber? Even safer there.”
Mademoiselle Geraldine extracted herself from the chaise with a groan and followed Sophronia into her tiny bedroom. Professor Braithwope trotted behind like an eager puppy.
That door safely locked as well, Sophronia relaxed a little.
She pulled out the map, pointing to the locations of the enemy and explaining her dots. She crossed out the dot that represented Deep Voice and one of the dots for the runners.
“Now, if Professor Braithwope could handle whatever is going on in the pilot’s bubble? I’m remembering how well he dances the support beam.”
The vampire was hopping after Bumbersnoot, wiggling his nose and making bunny noises. Bumbersnoot was not amused.
The headmistress said, “He will require supervision.”
Sophronia nodded and pointed to the squeak decks. “I was thinking you could take out the two up top. They have guns, so they are a bigger risk. Are you prepared for that?”
The headmistress nodded. “I think so. Physical attacks were never my strong point, and I’m afraid of heights—that’s why I stay inside all the time. But I’m willing to try.”
Sophronia couldn’t help being a little admiring. It was as if Mademoiselle Geraldine were an entirely different person. “Headmistress, you really are a remarkable actress.”
Mademoiselle Geraldine blushed. “Thank you, my dear. I might have been great, you know, quite great. But there’s more money and less risk in espionage work.”
Sophronia was startled. “Than the theater?”
“Oh my, yes, dear. Horribly dangerous, the West End. Have you ever spent any length of time in the company of dramatic artistic types?”
“Not unless you count Lord Akeldama.”
“Well, then, there you go.” Much to Sophronia’s disappointment, she didn’t elaborate.
So Sophronia returned to the plan. “I thought I would go after the dining hall contingent. We need to cut off the head—then chaos should result. That should make freeing the sooties much easier.”
The headmistress looked at the map. “But the dining hall is where most of the enemy is! I can’t let you do that. You’re only a student.”
“Ah, but I have the chicken.” Sophronia gestured at the exploding poultry, which was currently reclining on her bed in the wicker chicken version of a seductive pose. Sophronia grinned at her own thoughts—she was beginning to give it a personality.
Mademoiselle Geraldine was uncomfortable with the risk. She might be treating Sophronia as an equal, but she still harbored remnants of teacherly concern. “You should take Professor Braithwope with you. How about you supervise the professor and the bubble while I handle the squeak deck?”
Sophronia considered. “Then we all hit the propeller room and free up some sooties? Recruit them to our cause.”
The headmistress contemplated the numbers. “No, that leaves the bulk of the enemy with time to regroup. I think you were right with the first plan—the dining room and squeak decks must be first.”
The discussion continued on toward dawn, at which juncture two of the three conspirators felt like they had a plan. What Professor Braithwope thought was anyone’s guess. He had given up on Bumbersnoot hours ago and was humming to himself while looking through Sophronia’s dresses.
Sophronia’s eyes were heavy lidded.
Mademoiselle Geraldine yawned behind her hand.
Nevertheless, they persisted until the headmistress pointed out that Professor Braithwope had curled up inside the bottom of Sophronia’s wardrobe, on top of her shoes, and fallen asleep. He looked, as was the custom, mostly dead. The sun must be properly up.