Six in the morning arrived a lot quicker than Cog would have liked. The newly unpackaged, gear-shaped table clock she'd been given on her birthday loudly beeped the tune to "Wool and Wind," startling her awake. It took her sleep-drunk mind a couple of seconds to recognize the ear-splitting noise as her alarm. She quickly rushed out of bed, ending the alarm's sudden reign of terror.

"I really need to fix this," she told herself, trying to fiddle with the volume settings. She started her morning routine, moving from spot to spot in her quarters. When she was ready, she flipped her light off, removed the switch cover, and reached inside. Her hand latched onto her gold-plated goggles, and she put them on. The extra two pounds made her head a little wobbly at first.

By the time she made it over to the study hall, Gogs and Sprocket were already working on their homework. Or, more specifically, Sprocket's homework.

Sprocket cheered, excited by her appearance in the doorway. "Hey, there she is! And about time, too!" He leaned back in his chair and balanced it on two legs, much to her annoyance.

"Yes, I've been waiting for years," Gogs said, bringing his "rusty old man" impression to life.

"You know how girls are," Sprocket said. "They take forever on their hair, and their clothes, and their—"

"Quiet, you two," Cog snapped, "or I'll feed you to the school mascot." Sprocket's eyes went wide.

"Please, anything but Big Wy," he mocked, putting his hands up.

The same hands that were keeping him balanced on the chair.

He leaned back too far and fell to the ground. Gogs laughed at his screw-up while he rubbed the back of his head.

"Serves you right," Cog said. She pulled her homework out of her leather mail bag, and they got to work again.

It wasn't until nine o'clock that someone else showed up at the study hall, so for a full two hours, the room was their domain. Barely half an hour later, they put their work away and started screwing around.

The first person to arrive was the freckled kid from their class the previous day.

"Well, if it isn't the Cogwheel entente, the three troublemakers that everyone aspires to be," he said, grinning at them.

"Well, if it isn't Torque," Sprocket countered, "the one people forget about until he gets in trouble."

"That's a little harsh," Torque replied. "Fair, but harsh." He walked over to the "Wake Up!" counter and poured himself a mug of coffee. "How is that ship you've been working on coming along, Sprocket?"

"Wonderfully," he answered. "All I need is a great balloon design, an engine suitable for my extraneous needs, and a fitting name for the best ship this world will ever see."

"So, you're over three thousand dollars short of finding a second-hand balloon, sixteen thousand short of an engine, and need another three hundred for licensing."

"Precisely."

"Well, can't say I envy you. Have you considered a loan?"

"What, and kick off my career with thousands of dollars in debt for no reason?" Sprocket laughed at the suggestion. "Yeah, right. Only somebody crazy would do that to themselves."

Other classmates trickled in, either to fit in half an hour of working and socializing ahead of classes or to get a cup of coffee. The room became a bustling center of laughing, working, and mental preparation.

As the clock closed in on ten in the morning, Amp walked in. Appearances outside of his office and the mess hall were scarce, so mostly everyone hushed.

"Welcome to day two!" he said, announcing himself to anyone not paying attention. "After today, we are officially one percent of the way through the year! I hope everything is going smoothly. As far as I'm aware, there's been at least one incident so far. Some younger classmen were reminded about curfew the hard way. Enjoy your classes today!"

With the whisk of his hand and the chime of the bell, the trio made their way to history class. They planned their schedules to match as much as possible. It made their shared classes fun, but amplified the loneliness of the others.

"Ready for round two out of two hundred?" Gogs asked, punching the air in front of him.

Cog rolled her eyes. "Can't wait," she said.

-=[ ]=-

It was twelve minutes past ten, and their history teacher was nowhere in sight. In all of her classes, no teacher had ever been late. Teachers stayed in the same room all day, so they had no reason to be late. Not to mention, it was the second day of classes. If they were late on the second day, it didn't advertise a very consistent semester.

The rest of their peers seemed to be confused as well.

"Where's Mr. Cane?" one kid asked.

"Did he get hunted by the Nazis?"

"Does this mean no homework?"

The confusion faded as everyone distracted and entertain themselves. A small group of students started throwing wadded paper at each other, and a few others joined in. Some of their classmates stood up and wandered, and one group tossed a ball back and forth.

"Wildly immature," Gogs whispered to the other two. The three of them were still sitting quietly at their table. "He's gonna show up any minute, now."

"You're just jealous you didn't bring a ball," Sprocket said.

"Wow, I didn't even think about it that way. I guess you're right. That doesn't make it more mature, though."

Cog reached into her bag and fired a rubber band at him. "Sorry, was that too immature?"

"Hey, now!" He shot back at her and missed. The rubber band arched halfway across the room. Cog ran over to grab it, but Sprocket snatched it just in time. He used the opportunity to get a close-range hit in before running back to his seat.

"You're an awful good aim," Gogs commented.

"Thanks," Sprocket replied. "I've had my practice."

The three continued trading shots until the teacher haphazardly entered the doorway, flushed in the face. He was balding on the top of his head, and his white hair acted like a reverse mountain summit. A pair of plain glasses rested on his nose.

The students, suddenly noticing the teacher at the door, froze in place. The man in front of them was not Mr. Cane. He had to be about the same age, but he was slightly taller and slimmer. The awkward moment ended, and the kids reorganized themselves into their seats.

"Well then," the teacher said, "now that we're all done with whatever chaos that was, let's begin today's lesson. By that, I mean lack of a lesson. I had something else planned for the day, but I showed up late, so I'll just talk about the history of the airship. When I say the airship, I mean this one."

He didn't really plan out the order of his words, Cog noticed. Maybe he wasn't actually a teacher.

"Who here knows who made this ship?" he asked. A strong grin took shape over his face. Two kids took a guess but were wrong.

After a while, he finally relented. "I'll give you a hint: it's me. I made it. My name is Mr. Trotsky, but you can call me Trotter. You'll notice that Mr. Cane is not here, like he was yesterday. He technically retired last year but had to sub for me because I had not actually gotten on the ship yet."

"Trotsky, like the Russian guy?" Gogs loudly asked, his fear of Russian Communists now brought to light. Two classmates hummed the USSR national anthem.

"Spelled the same way, but no relation whatsoever. As for the details on this puppy, it was made twenty years ago and paraded around as a warship until it was retired fifteen years ago. Then, someone offered to make it a school ship, and obviously I liked the idea. The guns are all hard-disabled, and the ammo supply is now the storage room."

Trotter paused, clearly trying to decide something in his head. At last, he asked, "How about we go on a special tour?"

Tour a warship? Yes, please, both Gogs and Sprocket thought.

Everyone was on board with the idea. Although the ship had never actually been in the war, it would still be cool to hear more about what it could do, and maybe even see some of the guns.

"Are we going to see any restricted areas?" a fourth-year asked.

"Somehow I knew that was going to be brought up. It depends on how quickly we can check out some of the non-restricted areas first. Let's get going then. Single-file, please."

The prospect made the room a little more jittery. The restricted areas had all sorts of goodies that they weren't allowed to see, and there were plenty of rumors about them. Cog was admittedly more worried than excited. She didn't like how easily he was willing to let the students explore the restricted areas.

He led them through the halls, pointing out random information along the way. "We had a plumbing issue during the third year of commission. That wasn't fun. Drained the whole boarding area. Over here, we planned to have a firing range, but if you missed the targets, you put a hole in the ship, so that was a no."

He must really be proud of his ship, Sprocket thought. I hope one day I can be the same with my own.

With ten minutes left until the bell, Trotter said, "I suppose we can go see a restricted area now, but don't tell anyone." The class was ecstatic. They followed him down an ominously dark staircase, which he illuminated with a sole lantern grabbed from a stand in the entryway. It surprised Cog that there weren't any cobwebs.

"We are now on the lowest floor of the ship, which would have been where held prisoners ended up, if we ever would've had any. They have never been used, and unless we decide to expand operations, never will be. Therefore, the prison is still set up, including interrogation and torture. Don't open any doors."

The interrogation room was a dark gray with walls entirely blank. In it sat a single dust-covered table and two dust-covered chairs. Two oil lamps sat on the table, long forgotten.

The room across from interrogation resembled a torture chamber. Instruments of pain and other sharp objects lined the wall, each with a unique size and shape. The countertops had medical and interrogative tools littered around. Cog couldn't imagine what was inside the cabinets and drawers.

A chair also sat in the direct center of the room. It had straps and braces for keeping arms and legs down, a large belt for the torso, and a smaller one for the head. Surgical equipment sat on the stands next to it, and to top it off, a drill jotted out of the ceiling. It could have been straight out of a movie and the class would be none the wiser.

"This looks like a Nazi camp!" Gogs said dramatically, with fake fear in his eyes.

"It should," Trotter confirmed, "a Nazi defect designed it." He checked his watch inconspicuously, as if he hadn't just blown open a massive conspiracy. "Goodness me, it's time to go. Everyone, back up the stairs."

"I can't believe a Nazi built the prison level!" exclaimed Gogs, a mix of awe and shock on his face. They began making the climb back to the normal floor, the dim lamp flickering behind them.

"Just kinda goggles your mind," joked Sprocket. Cog punched his arm as payment. He fake-caressed it, frowning.

"What I'd like to know is why the torture room was there," she said. She felt awful short between the two. "Who do you even interrogate on an airship..."

Her thought trailed off when she heard a strange noise coming from somewhere nearby, resonating quietly in the walls. It seemed almost metallic. Attention perked, she immediately stopped walking and homed in on the enigma. The boys kept walking, the sound going unnoticed.

"Well," Gogs started, "if you've really got to get the information out of a Steamkraut, you—"

"Quiet, Gogs," Cog barked, ear against the wall.

"What, you don't want to hear about—"

"Quiet, Gogs!"

A faint thudding noise came from their left, in a hallway with no doors. It was definitely something metal.

"That's weird," Sprocket said. "I've never heard that noise before." He joined her against the wall, trying to examine it further.

"Whatever it is, it's probably nothing," Gogs concluded. "Let's hurry, we're gonna be late to class."

It was a very intense moment in the maintenance vent. The cool air rushing in from vent openings did nothing to offset the heat and sweat now swelling in the tunnel. He'd managed to sneak away from the rest of the class through the vent on the prison level as everyone else was leaving. Nobody had bothered to check behind them before going up the staircase. Not that the lick of fire in the lantern provided enough visibility to see him.

The vent made a steady incline to the main floor, which took a lot more effort than he would have liked to admit. Even though he was consciously trying to make the least amount of noise, he hadn't realized that the banging was still loud enough to draw attention until he heard voices coming from the nearest vent exit. He quickly stopped crawling and held his breath.

Luck was on his side. The voices drifted away, leaving him to his devices. His literal devices. He quietly reached into his pocket and retrieved another one of his own technologies. It was a small disc that had a peel-away sticky side. He placed the device inside the vent and turned it on before unlatching a nearby grate. It fell to the ground with a loud rattle, forcing him to bolt away.

Cog turned back around the corner as soon as she heard the metal clang, but as she did a visual sweep, nothing appeared to be any different. Something odd was going on, but she didn't have the time or patience to figure out what.

"Come on, Cog, we've really gotta get there."

"You guys didn't hear that, either?"

"No?"

"I'm starting to think y'all are deaf."

-=[ ]=-

"Welcome back to Airship Anatomy, where if it ticks, clicks, or whirrs, we classify it. And while we're on the topic of classifying, you'll each get into groups of three, with one group of four, to work on this packet. Anything you don't finish in class is homework. Please find a group and begin."

Mr. Gates, affectionately titled "the Clockwork Man," did not sound very interested in class at all. He rushed to hand out packets and went straight to his desk. The typewriter on his desk was in motion before most people even formed a group.

Naturally, the Cogwheel trio formed a group immediately. One of their classmates arrived just as all the groups had formed, so Gogs beckoned them over to their group. Cog recognized him immediately.

"Hey," she said, "you're the kid who accused me of forgetting to say my name!"

"I apologize. I was unaware you didn't have one," he sneered, fixing his glasses. "I'm also one of the kids you booted off your table at lunch."

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Lukas, right?" Sprocket asked, leaning back in his chair again. He wasn't enthused.

"Das ist richtig." The German kid grabbed a copy of the work assigned and avoided eye contact with the three of them. He seemed simultaneously shy and snooty; it was a combination that was perfectly designed to make Sprocket's hair stand on edge.

"Don't try and charm me with your German, freund, and watch your tone when talking to the lady."

"Sprocket," Cog began, "he just apologized for—"

"Well pardon me then, sir, for requesting forgiveness from your lady friend," Lukas replied, sharing the same venom as his earlier half-hearted apology. He and Sprocket both completely ignored Cog's interjections.

"Don't get snappy with me, Kraut, or I'll kindly direct you through the window."

"Okay guys, this is probably the point where we should—"

"Of this airship or your unlicensed one, may I ask?"

"Really guys, you should really—"

"Do you have a preference? I'll gladly throw you out of—"

"STOP!" Cog finally demanded, loud enough for everyone in class to gaze over at them, but not quite a yell. All whispering in the class seized. For an intense moment, the two boys were sizing each-other up, both with malicious thoughts spurring behind their eyes.

"Dang it, Cog," Gogs whined, "it was just getting good." He mimicked eating popcorn, a grin on his face.

"Let's get working," Sprocket said, not breaking eye-contact with Lukas, who was just as intently staring right back at him.

"Good idea," Cog agreed.

"Questions one through five involve gears," Gogs pointed out, "and it gives the definitions. We just need to give the terms. Number one is pretty easy. The answer is just 'gears.'"

"Two," Lukas read, "is another name for a gear."

"Cog," Sprocket said.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"No, that's the answer."

"How coincidental," Lukas added. They couldn't tell if the way he worded things was because English wasn't his native language or because he always tried to speak like a sophisticated person. It was eccentric, and it drove Sprocket insane.

By the time the mood around the table lightened, they'd gotten most of the packet done. He wasn't great at socializing, but Gogs tried for some icebreakers.

"So, we all came here from the flight hub in New York," Gogs said, "but did you board from New York, too, Lukas?"

"Well, everyone minus Cog," Sprocket corrected.

"I boarded in New Germany, at their flight hub," Lukas replied. "I tested out of the flight school."

"Glad to see we're doing better in one education field," Gogs commented.

"Too meta, Gogs," Sprocket replied.

"How did Miss Cog get here, then?" Lukas probed, adjusting his glasses again.

"Well," she began, "I was living in Louisiana, when a really powerful hurricane was projected to hit. So of course, an evac team—"

The bell rang, interrupting her story. "Hold that thought," Lukas said, "I have important business to attend to. Until we meet again." He grabbed his backpack and flew out the door. Whatever it was, it seemed important.

With mixed but mostly confused feelings, the Cogwheel trio walked to the mess hall and navigated straight to their table.

"I don't like him," Sprocket said, taking off his uniform's overcoat.

"Honestly, I couldn't tell," Gogs scoffed, caked with sarcasm. "Is it because he's German? Are you being racist, Sprocket?"

"I don't know if that counts as racist," Cog said. "Country-ist?"

"I'm not racist," Sprocket clarified. "I just don't particularly like Commies, Krauts, or the mixture of the two."

"Besides, I think there are other reasons he's not racist," Cog observed, switching her attention between the two of them.

"How so?" Gogs prompted.

"Well, you're Asian, and I'm black," Sprocket explained, joining Gogs' sarcastic obliviousness. "And we happen to be friends."

"I am a Pacific Islander, Sprocket. My family is from New Guinea."

"I guess that's a point deducted for me, then."

"Do I get points for knowing you were a Pacific Islander?" Cog asked, smiling.

"We're not worried about you being racist, Cog, so we don't have a point system set up for you."

"Wait, you weren't just making that point thing up?" She scanned for answers on their faces, but they ignored her and went straight to eating. The two of them seemed to confuse her more often than not. Was racism a regular issue? How had she never noticed?

Amp walked on stage for the second day in a row, patiently waiting for the food lines to die down. He wore his signature grin, but his hat was in his hands. The three knew what that meant. The moment that most of the students had grabbed their lunch, he tapped on the microphone and launched into his speech.

"Welcome to day two of two hundred. I promise they'll go much faster." He spoke with softness almost every time he appeared in front of the students. It was a startling contrast compared to the teachers they had to deal with. Amp made disliking him hard. "I've a few words to say, and then I'll let you eat in peace.

"Since today is the second day of the year, I'm going to hand out a pair of golden goggles. They are a pair of goggles we give out every year to one lucky person. The government gives a set every year, so we do what every normal person would do and hand them out via a raffle.

"How do you enter this raffle, you ask? It's pretty simple, actually. All you have to do is enroll in classes. Logically, your odds would be one in three hundred of getting a pair, but we mix it up. First-years get one entry, second-years get two, and so on. Therefore, first-years have a one in 750 chance, and fourth-years have a four in 750 chance.

"Of the years this raffle has taken place, we've never had a first-year win until today. Congratulations to Sail! Would Sail and the three previous goggle winners please come join me up here?"

With Amp's prompt, Cog stood up and put her own pair of golden goggles on and walked onto the stage. Right next to her stood another girl, which was presumably Sail. She had autumn-colored hair and brilliant green eyes that lit up when she received the goggles. Even with the heels Cog was wearing, Sail was taller. She wore a brown overcoat with fancy frills, an undershirt, and a skirt. It was the typical uniform, but the brown contrasted strongly against her green eyes.

"These are heavier than they look," Sail said, moving her new pair of goggles between her hands.

"Once again, please applaud these four." While the student body clapped for the four winners, Cog and Sail embraced in a full hug. The other two winners—two fourth-year guys—chest-bumped.

"You four may go have a seat now," Amp said, shaking their hands. "Best of luck this year!"

"Last, before I leave you all, I've got really exciting news." He paused, barely able to contain himself. "The president, Jimmy Carter, is going to hold a press conference in five days. I've ordered five televisions in honor of the event so that we can watch it here!"

People started whooping and hollering, but not because of the president. Putting a TV on an airship like this was unheard of. Too often, they were often out of range of any stations, and satellites couldn't provide consistent enough service for their hovering vessel.

Amp continued his announcement. "Because of recent breakthroughs in technology, antenna TV can reach us here, so we'll put them each in different areas. One will go in here, one in the study hall, one in the teachers' lounge, one in the history room, and one in the fourth-year study hall."

More noise erupted from the fourth-years. The privileges of being an upperclassman kept growing.

"That's all I've got to say now. Get eating!" Amp walked off the stage and left the cafeteria through the teachers' entrance. Cog finally came back over to the table, a smiling Sail following behind.

"Hello," she said. "I'm Sail." She seemed a little rosy around the cheeks. All the attention from being on stage was a little too much.

"Well Cog," Gogs said, "it looks like you've found someone who can finally compete with your charm."

Sail blushed further.

"She'd like to sit with us, so it's gonna be okay with y'all," Cog said, never even registering the compliment. She pulled a chair up for Sail right next to her own.

"Sure, go ahead and put words in our mouth," Sprocket said, adding a tone of salt.

"I will, and you'll like it. Sail, this is Gogs and Sprocket. Gog's a nerd and Sprocket is... something."

"Ha! You're a 'something!'" laughed Gogs.

"And you're nothing!" Sprocket mockingly laughed back.

"Touché."

"Why are you guys always at each other's throats?" Cog asked, frustrated.

"It's fun," they replied simultaneously.

"They do this all the time, Sail. Sometimes too much."

"I don't care, as long as they don't drag me into it," she responded, offering each of them a hard candy from one of her pockets.

"So, where are you from, Sail?" Gogs asked, his head resting on his fist and his elbow on the table. Sprocket had lovingly given his pose the title "Nerd Learn," which was unsurprisingly not a hit.

"I was born in Texas," she replied, "although my parents were both born and raised in Poland. They were lucky enough to escape right as Germany and Russia had first invaded, and found a route to the U.S."

"I guess I can see a bit of Polish in you," Gogs noted.

"Okay, there's no way that's not a point deduction," Sprocket pointed out, chuckling.

"Were your parents Jewish, then?" he asked, ignoring Sprocket.

"Yeah, but they converted after the war."

Their conversation continued, considerably more pleasant than their disastrous meeting with Lukas. Sail was likable, but seemed pretty shy, which was not something the three of them knew how to deal with very well. Cog had been shy when she'd first arrived, but that was years ago.

Sprocket glanced over at Gogs, who seemed entranced. Sail barely made eye contact, making it hard to read her feelings.

Lover boy's in for a treat with this one, he evaluated.

"Where are you headed, Sail?" Cog asked, the bell interrupting their tea party.

"I've gotta go to socials," she said.

"Sweet! Me too!" Cog was more than happy to hear they were going to the same class together, partially because she didn't want another bad interaction with Lukas. Even though it sounded like he didn't mean to, bad interactions kept stacking up.

"Wait, were you the one that kid accused of forgetting their name and then made the entire class really awkward?" Sail cringed.

"Yeah, that was me."

"That was painful. I think I would have fallen apart."

A hush fell over the two as they walked to socials. Their steampunk boots quietly tapped against the stained oak flooring, almost rhythmically. "This place is a lot to take in," Sail admitted, gazing around. There was Victorian-style wallpaper that lined the ceiling above them. She brushed her hand along the wall as they walked.

"It'll take a couple of days to get used to," Cog replied. "Or, in my case, a couple of years."

"Why so long?" Sail worriedly looked at her.

"The Globetrotter is very different compared to... well, the rest of my life," Cog revealed, giving her answer some consideration. It did nothing to ease Sail's worry.

"I think I understand," she said. "This place is always busy. You're always on the move, doing something, preparing for the next day. It's only day two, but it's a lot more than I was used to back home."

"Something like that, yeah."

"I'm not gonna lie, adjusting has been kinda hard for me." Sail's eyes drifted towards the floor. "I was in a pretty big school, so I never had to worry about being noticed. Being put in the spotlight at lunch today was the worst experience of my life."

"I'm sorry, Sail," Cog said. "If it means anything to you, it's easier when you have friends."

Sail laughed. "Somehow, I think being friends with the three most popular kids on board might make it harder."

-=[ ]=-

Springlock wasted no time in beginning class. She was already writing on the chalkboard before the pair even took a seat.

"Welcome back, all," she said. "Today, we're translating Spanish and German to English. Grab a partner and begin."

They hadn't been lucky enough to find open seats beside each other, but the two locked eyes from across the room. Before Cog could make it over there to join her, however, Lukas stepped in her way.

"Hey Cog," he started, "would you like to work together? I happen to be very fluent in German."

He was unknowingly blocking her path, making them both tense up. Sail just hoped she had the guts to say no to him, rather than just being nice and accepting.

"Sorry Lukas," she said, "I was going to pair with Sail over there." He turned to see, and Sail waved.

"Oh okay. That's alright," he replied, hiding his dejection, "I understand. By the way, it's not Lukas. It's das Gehirn."

"Right, sorry."

Lukas would never understand American girls. Just earlier that day, they had partnered in a project, and she was defending him and trying to stop an argument. They were talking and enjoying themselves. Now, she ignored him and went to someone else she had just barely met at lunchtime.

Not to mention he can't seem to get any reception trying to read her mind. He tried it earlier in Airship Anatomy while sitting at their table, but his machine hadn't picked up anything, so he ruled out distance. He had two other options, neither of which made sense realistically. Still, he couldn't disprove them.

Which is it, Cog? Do you have a technology to block my technology, or do you truly think at all?

Of course, he knew she had a thought process, and there was no way she could have a way to block a one-of-a-kind technology. Right? A growing suspicion crept over him. It was possible he'd already found the priority target, and that she had countermeasures. There was just one way to find out. For now, he snapped back to reality and worked on the translation notes.

Cog was struggling to figure out the other languages, Sail noticed.

"Don't worry," Sail said, "learning another language is hard. I'm only doing this well because German is my second language."

"Really?" Cog asked, interested in hearing more.

"Yeah, parents being in Poland and all."

"Wouldn't your second be Polish or English then?"

"They never spoke Polish at home. They wanted to hide that."

Cog didn't understand, but accepted the explanation. Why would they want to hide it? It's not like America disliked Poland. Just Germany. Right? Why wouldn't we like Poland?

The pair continued working on the assignment together. Their efforts consisted mostly of Sail helping Cog figure out what was happening on the paper. The teacher, apparently dissatisfied with the amount of work already given, handed out an extra worksheet just as long. It included translating in a jumble of the three languages.

"I'll do one through ten in all three, if you want to do eleven through twenty in all three," Sail suggested.

"Sounds like a deal," Cog said.

In front of them, the teacher suddenly slammed the window blinds shut, startling the entire class, and causing the two of them to jump. Everyone looked up, confused. A red tint highlighted the cream-colored blinds, moving from one end of the frame to the other. It stayed red for a concerning amount of time.

"What's outside?" one kid asked, wide-eyed.

"Nothing," Springlock replied. "Get back to work, everybody."

Lukas raised his hand. "Is that a Nazi flag, Ma'am?"

He'd already known the answer, but in an effort to stir chaos, wanted to see how the class would react.

"No, das Gehirn. Get back to work."

She was lying, of course. A Nazi ship, die Fliegchen, was passing through the international waters they were now in. Spotting one in internationally recognized waters was already alarming, let alone how close it came to the Globetrotter. They had no means of attacking the fascist enemy ship, but doing so would risk rekindling a war anyway, which wasn't a particularly popular option, considering they were an airship full of kids.

The ship continued its slow passing, with a very tense Amp watching its every move. He slowly directed his own away from die Fliegchen, hoping the Nazis had no further plans past scaring everyone on board.

Class ended soon after, and Cog and Sail had to part ways. In just a small amount of time, they'd done some solid bonding with each other.

"Are you free later tonight?" Sail poked, packing her equipment up.

"Yeah," Cog replied. "Until nine, because of curfew. I'll be in the study hall with the other two."

"Great! I'll see you then!" Sail rushed out of the room with a bounce in her step. She was a strangely positive person, despite her crippling introversion.

Gogs and Sprocket were waiting outside the doorway for Cog by the time she had packed up, and the three of them made their way over to their last class of the day.

"You should've seen Gogs today," Sprocket said, grinning. "He tore the competition apart."

"I feel super accomplished," Gogs said. "I got six people out in the first match and made it to home base, no problem. In the second match, I got four people out and kicked a field goal. Kickball, by the way."

"Hooray for Gogs, the new greatest sports player!" Cog joked. "But seriously, awesome job."

"I'm pretty cool like that," he said, smirking.

They walked into Calculus three, anticipating their instructor's response to their fully finished packets. Gogs had worked his magic on every page.

"Would we be able to get the next set of work, Einstein?" Gogs asked, handing him the three perfect packets.

"Why yes you can, Neil. This is also a one-week assignment page, but judging by your speed on this first one, I'd better put an asterisk above 'one-week.'" He handed them the new packet, and added, "I assume this is how you're already in Calc three, then. Finish one early, start another early."

"Exactly why we're here, sir," Sprocket said, scanning the fifty fresh problems they'd been assigned. He enjoyed being ahead in class, but not the amount of work it entailed.

"For the rest of you," Einstein announced to the other four, "the same deal stands; Finish lessons quicker and we can move on, so long as your test scores look good. Now, instead of getting right to work, I want to play a review game. Please move all desks to the back."

When all the desks had finally lined the walls, they hauled two massive airship replicas out of his storage room to be used in a review game he called "Airship Royale." The game worked like Battleship, but you had to get a question right in order to attack.

In the end, the Cogwheel trio went against the other four and won by one hit marker. The bell signified the end of their competition, solidifying a close match.

"Sorry guys," Einstein said, "I forgot what time it was. I truly wanted to give you time to do work."

"It's scary how quickly your mind works," Sprocket said, helping tear down the game's setup. "You're like a calculation machine, Gogs. It's almost like you were made for this."

"A calculation machine," he repeated. "That would be funny, I think."

-=[ ]=-

He needed to use this time to study and get work done, but Lukas had to get some sort of idea on why he couldn't read Cog's mind. He scribbled math terms and numbers everywhere in his notebook, including all the codes and calculations, but nothing turned up wrong.

No, his invention was perfect. He concluded that there was something wrong with Cog. Something about this girl made her impossible to read. Perhaps her skull was too thick? He decided he'd go with that. After all, she was an American blonde, and that was the stereotype. In that case, he'd have to strengthen his technology.

-=[ ]=-

Sail sat down at her desk and turned on her lamp. She'd been excited to write all day, and finally had the chance. The pen and paper sitting in front of her became active, with the envelope to her right patiently waiting its turn.

Dear Mom and Dad,

It's Katie, and day two! I won't be able to write to you daily, but I think of you and love you daily, so hopefully that counts.

It's only day two, and I've already made a couple of friends. They're like the cool kids, but not the jerk cool kids. One of them, who goes by Gogs, has a crush on me, I think. From the sounds of it, he's a pretty big nerd, and bad at hiding his affection.

The other two, Sprocket and Cog, are just as nice. Cog has a language class with me, so we're going to partner whenever we can! (I hope!) I don't know too much about Sprocket, though. He seems a lot more reserved.

Also, apparently there's this giveaway they do yearly where they raffle off a pair of golden goggles, and I won! They say I'm the first first-year to win!

Write back, miss you guys!

Love,

Katie Bowler

P.S. The names aren't normal because they're nicknames. Mine is Sail! Looking back, I should've chosen 'Wings' instead.

She walked through the maze of passageways down to the secretary's office, who was sitting at her desk, going through a stack of papers.

"Irving, Texas, please," she replied.

"Twenty-five cents for delivery," the secretary said, stamping the front. "Are you expecting a return letter?"

"Yep!" Sail handed the secretary a quarter and skipped away down the halls.

-=[ ]=-

Twenty minutes prior to Sail's arrival, the Cogwheel trio finished their recently assigned calculus work. Exhausted, Cog glanced over at the large Victorian clock that was perched on the wall.

"That took us three hours," she yawned.

"Indeed, it did," Gogs said, perked up and smiling, "and now it's time to finish that Airship Anatomy paper!"

They met him with groans.

Their Airship Anatomy work took less time than the seven days' worth of math problems. They spent the rest of the time recovering from the mind-numbing study session. Sprocket spaced out, staring at the walls, and Cog rested her head on the table.

The room itself was a weird, unconventional pentagon, with a blue-gray carpet over the usual mahogany-stained oak flooring. Twelve nine-seater tables made of finished wood were sprawled over the carpet, each with a lamp. Bookshelves filled half of the occupied space, each seven feet tall and collectively containing probably two thousand books. Like many of the classrooms, pipes and gears acted as functioning wall decoration, many of which were ticking and grinding away.

The clock chimed six o'clock, and Sail walked in with her own homework not too long after.

"Hey Sail!" Gogs said, beckoning her to sit with them.

"Hiya guys!" she chimed. "Hope you don't mind that I have algebra homework to do."

Gogs' eyes lit up with an unmeasurable brightness at the sound of his calling. He seized the moment, masking his want to get closer to her as an interest in helping with her homework.

Cog didn't notice, but Sprocket sure did. Sail saw Sprocket watching, and they exchanged a glance. They both knew.

She winked.