Daughter of a Conquered House
"One of these vicious Heterodynes took to wife the daughter of a conquered house. Her good behavior was bought with the continued health of her family. She proved to be an extraordinary woman who, when her children were born, saw to their education with a strength of purpose that defied all of her husband’s efforts to pass on family tradition." -- Secret Blueprints
"It looks like a toaster."
[...]
"Oh, yes. It could toast the whole town." -- Gil and Agatha
Agatha's grandmother is not having the best day.
She'd only been planning to fix the toaster at first.
The thermal sensor was malfunctioning, which she traced swiftly to an electrical short, which could probably be attributed to a power surge. One thing Castle Heterodyne never seemed to lack was energy. A little corrective rewiring solved that.
But then, she'd never precisely been satisfied with the toast even in the event of theoretically correct operation -- it was always underdone or too dry -- and increasing the power to the heating elements should solve that.
Of course, she would have to rework the circuitry and replace some of the materials, as the original problem had been due to not being able to handle the ordinary energy levels involved in the mere application of inadequate heat to bread.
One of her husband's Jägers wandered into the kitchen and leered at her, apparently out of habit, before wandering into the adjacent storeroom and back out again with a jar of something that smelled like it had spoiled and a loaf of bread.
She no longer worried that they'd follow through on the implied threat. No. As far as they were concerned, she belonged to her husband, and that was his privilege. Her chisel snapped between her fingers, and she glanced up, eyes roving across the kitchen, and landed on the utensil rack next to the Jäger's nascent sandwich. Thoughtlessly, she said, "Hand me that fork, please."
The Jäger raised his shaggy eyebrows and grinned. "'Please,' huh? Hyu begging me, sveethot?"
Her eyebrows shot together and her voice dripped syrup. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot the etiquette here was 'or else.'"
"'Or else'... vot?"
"I'll feed bits of each of your paired organs to your grandchildren while you watch, usually, I suppose," she snapped. She pushed her chair back -- it landed on its side with a bang -- and brushed past him to snatch up the fork herself. She should have known better than to ask a Jäger for anything. Hm, maybe the shrimp deveiner too. And the egg cup? Yes.
"Ho! Dot's a new vun. Kipp it in mind for later, though." A broad grin, and she fought herself not to shy away but he inhaled appreciatively so he probably knew how she felt. "Hyu got any nephews und nieces?"
She raised her eyes to the Jäger's. Her pulse beat in her temples. They were tough, but their anatomy was still basically human and the sensory openings in the skull were still a point of vulnerability. "Take your sandwich and get out."
"Dun haff to do vot hyu--"
"NOW."
The Jäger's eyes widened slightly, and he picked up his plate and decamped. As the Spark fugue began to fade she realized with some embarrassment that she was standing next to the counter with the shrimp deveiner raised as a weapon.
"Nicely done, my lady," the Castle said smugly.
She hated this place. She hated this building, this sadistic mechanical monstrosity that (her husband had told her proudly) had made one of his ancestors immortal.That kept her prisoner. That guarded the family that terrorized Europa and kept them from killing themselves in childhood. That tried to poison her sons' minds, day after day after day.
She stomped back to the table, righted her chair, and returned to the toaster with a new ferocity.
She hated the town. The way it rearranged itself to disorient her and everyone else took it in stride. The delighted approval of its people for everything her husband did, even inviting enemies inside the walls. Not just her, enemies with armies, trying to attack the invincible town and walking eagerly through the opened gates like some ridiculous inside-out version of the Trojan horse. The poor fools were doomed by the time they got that close anyway, but they still tended to do some damage. It was an unconscionable way to run a town, even a horrible one.
She hated what it did to her. Hated being a prisoner, hated the constant reminders and the times she wished it would stop and let her pretend she was at home. Hated how her husband prized her, gloated over having her in his power. How her temper was always on a knife's edge. How the only words of approval were to encourage all her worst impulses. How hopeless it seemed to try to be good, here.
She finished charging the thing that used to be a toaster. One thing Castle Heterodyne never seemed to lack was energy.
If it was hopeless, if all that came out of here was destruction, then it had to be destroyed. Here and now. No more raids. No more threats. No more taunting. No more Jägers, no more Heterodynes, no more Mechanicsburg.
She rested her fingers on the lever. She'd be free. Her family would be safe.
And Barry said from the doorway, "Mother?"
She snatched her hand back as if the lever burned, and pressed her fingers over her mouth, tremors starting there and spreading to a whole-body shiver. For a moment after that, yet, her thoughts weighed whether it would be worth it; but her heart had made the decision first.
She'd considered killing her children.
"I'm sorry," she said. She closed her eyes for a moment; when she opened them, Barry was beside her and had picked up the ex-toaster to peer into the slot. "I... please don't do that; it's a death ray."
"It's omnidirectional if you turn it all the way up, isn't it?" he said with interest, the very beginning of Spark-style harmonics tingeing his voice. "It's a really neat effect, but I don't think it's very...." He stopped and set it down carefully, looking at her. "Practical."
She took an unsteady breath and reached out and pulled him to her. A little to her surprise, he came and hugged her back. "It isn't. And I'm very glad you interrupted before I could--" test it. That was a lie. "Use it. I shouldn't have--" Her voice failed a little and she swallowed. "Considered it."
"Were you really angry enough to destroy our town?" He sounded shaken too, now.
He was tall enough she could put her head on his shoulder now, when he stood and she sat. She did, for just a few seconds. "Yes," she said, because she couldn't do this by lying to them. "Not at you. Never at you. But I was very angry--"
"At who?"
A deep breath. "At the Castle and one of the Jägers. At your father, but not about anything... immediate. And I was working, and I let myself get carried away and not think clearly about the consequences." Her sons. Everyone else's children, too. They were not responsible for their parents doing as they'd always done.
Barry pulled back a little, looking troubled. "At Father about having you here."
"Yes. I love you and Bill very much, and I'm glad you exist, but he was still wrong to threaten my family to make me marry him." He did also love their sons, in his own way. It was a start. You had to start by loving your own. It was more than some people managed. (It was more than she had remembered, for a little while.) The problem was that the Heterodynes so rarely seemed to go any further. She thought the Castle scoffed, but she ignored it this time.
He sighed. "I wish we could fix things." So young to be so serious. Quieter than his brother but both shining in the dark.
She pulled him close again, and this time his head came down on her shoulder. "You will. Later." Soon, maybe. If Barry was showing signs of breakthrough, Bill was probably getting close. What she asked of them wasn't easy, but they would be freer to act than she was. "And sometimes you can't fix everything about a situation, but you can still make it better."
After a moment, Barry let go of her and picked up the toaster. "I'll go put this up in a lab or a storeroom somewhere."
Somewhere his father probably wouldn't notice it, given just how many old inventions Castle Heterodyne held. Somewhere she wouldn't know where it was either. "That's probably a good idea."
Some time later, Bill found her in her workshop (she wasn't doing anything dangerous this time -- well, relatively; you could do a lot of damage with an irrigation system, especially one designed not to corrode easily and with explosive bolt releases for emergencies, but it wasn't the point) and came straight up to hug around her shoulders from behind and put his chin on top of her head. He was getting so tall already. "Feel better?"
"Somewhat." She sighed. "Thank you."
"You know," he said, "it's not intrinsically a suicidal invention. You could use two energy waves with destructive harmonic interference and adjust the relative frequencies to create a safe zone within a given radius. Very useful."
She blinked. Valid, but-- She turned around to look up at him. "When exactly would that be useful?"
"Well, what if you were in the middle of a battle?"
"Hmm. Surrounded by enemies, without any of my own army beyond a small radius? Things clearly aren't going well."
He grinned. "Or maybe you were traveling with a small group in the Wastelands and got swarmed by monsters! Happens all the time."
She arched an eyebrow. "That's a fair point, but have your trips with your father been exciting in ways I didn't previously hear about?"
A wry look. "Trust me, that was the best part. Next time I think I'll ask if we can just go hunting."
"I believe you." She patted his arm. "And that sounds like a good idea. But for less drastic situations, maybe you should stick to something that's easier to aim than a toaster."
"Okay." He hugged her again, and she got up to hug him back properly this time, crossing her wrists behind him to keep from getting grease on his shirt. "We'll make things better," he said in her ear, too softly for the Castle to hear. Probably. "I promise."
"I know," she whispered back, and let him go.
He was humming as he went away. Very much the way his father did when he was working. She stripped off a glove to rub the back of her neck, trying to smooth the fine hairs there back down.
"How many of them do you keep alive through breakthrough, again?" she asked the Castle.
"All the ones who deserve to," it replied, and she rolled her eyes. "They seem a bit tame, really."
There were good things in Mechanicsburg. They wouldn't have made it this long without any good points. And anyone with sense worried about a child in breakthrough, but she thought hers would make it.
They would make things better.
Soon.
"It looks like a toaster."
[...]
"Oh, yes. It could toast the whole town." -- Gil and Agatha
Agatha's grandmother is not having the best day.
She'd only been planning to fix the toaster at first.
The thermal sensor was malfunctioning, which she traced swiftly to an electrical short, which could probably be attributed to a power surge. One thing Castle Heterodyne never seemed to lack was energy. A little corrective rewiring solved that.
But then, she'd never precisely been satisfied with the toast even in the event of theoretically correct operation -- it was always underdone or too dry -- and increasing the power to the heating elements should solve that.
Of course, she would have to rework the circuitry and replace some of the materials, as the original problem had been due to not being able to handle the ordinary energy levels involved in the mere application of inadequate heat to bread.
One of her husband's Jägers wandered into the kitchen and leered at her, apparently out of habit, before wandering into the adjacent storeroom and back out again with a jar of something that smelled like it had spoiled and a loaf of bread.
She no longer worried that they'd follow through on the implied threat. No. As far as they were concerned, she belonged to her husband, and that was his privilege. Her chisel snapped between her fingers, and she glanced up, eyes roving across the kitchen, and landed on the utensil rack next to the Jäger's nascent sandwich. Thoughtlessly, she said, "Hand me that fork, please."
The Jäger raised his shaggy eyebrows and grinned. "'Please,' huh? Hyu begging me, sveethot?"
Her eyebrows shot together and her voice dripped syrup. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot the etiquette here was 'or else.'"
"'Or else'... vot?"
"I'll feed bits of each of your paired organs to your grandchildren while you watch, usually, I suppose," she snapped. She pushed her chair back -- it landed on its side with a bang -- and brushed past him to snatch up the fork herself. She should have known better than to ask a Jäger for anything. Hm, maybe the shrimp deveiner too. And the egg cup? Yes.
"Ho! Dot's a new vun. Kipp it in mind for later, though." A broad grin, and she fought herself not to shy away but he inhaled appreciatively so he probably knew how she felt. "Hyu got any nephews und nieces?"
She raised her eyes to the Jäger's. Her pulse beat in her temples. They were tough, but their anatomy was still basically human and the sensory openings in the skull were still a point of vulnerability. "Take your sandwich and get out."
"Dun haff to do vot hyu--"
"NOW."
The Jäger's eyes widened slightly, and he picked up his plate and decamped. As the Spark fugue began to fade she realized with some embarrassment that she was standing next to the counter with the shrimp deveiner raised as a weapon.
"Nicely done, my lady," the Castle said smugly.
She hated this place. She hated this building, this sadistic mechanical monstrosity that (her husband had told her proudly) had made one of his ancestors immortal.That kept her prisoner. That guarded the family that terrorized Europa and kept them from killing themselves in childhood. That tried to poison her sons' minds, day after day after day.
She stomped back to the table, righted her chair, and returned to the toaster with a new ferocity.
She hated the town. The way it rearranged itself to disorient her and everyone else took it in stride. The delighted approval of its people for everything her husband did, even inviting enemies inside the walls. Not just her, enemies with armies, trying to attack the invincible town and walking eagerly through the opened gates like some ridiculous inside-out version of the Trojan horse. The poor fools were doomed by the time they got that close anyway, but they still tended to do some damage. It was an unconscionable way to run a town, even a horrible one.
She hated what it did to her. Hated being a prisoner, hated the constant reminders and the times she wished it would stop and let her pretend she was at home. Hated how her husband prized her, gloated over having her in his power. How her temper was always on a knife's edge. How the only words of approval were to encourage all her worst impulses. How hopeless it seemed to try to be good, here.
She finished charging the thing that used to be a toaster. One thing Castle Heterodyne never seemed to lack was energy.
If it was hopeless, if all that came out of here was destruction, then it had to be destroyed. Here and now. No more raids. No more threats. No more taunting. No more Jägers, no more Heterodynes, no more Mechanicsburg.
She rested her fingers on the lever. She'd be free. Her family would be safe.
And Barry said from the doorway, "Mother?"
She snatched her hand back as if the lever burned, and pressed her fingers over her mouth, tremors starting there and spreading to a whole-body shiver. For a moment after that, yet, her thoughts weighed whether it would be worth it; but her heart had made the decision first.
She'd considered killing her children.
"I'm sorry," she said. She closed her eyes for a moment; when she opened them, Barry was beside her and had picked up the ex-toaster to peer into the slot. "I... please don't do that; it's a death ray."
"It's omnidirectional if you turn it all the way up, isn't it?" he said with interest, the very beginning of Spark-style harmonics tingeing his voice. "It's a really neat effect, but I don't think it's very...." He stopped and set it down carefully, looking at her. "Practical."
She took an unsteady breath and reached out and pulled him to her. A little to her surprise, he came and hugged her back. "It isn't. And I'm very glad you interrupted before I could--" test it. That was a lie. "Use it. I shouldn't have--" Her voice failed a little and she swallowed. "Considered it."
"Were you really angry enough to destroy our town?" He sounded shaken too, now.
He was tall enough she could put her head on his shoulder now, when he stood and she sat. She did, for just a few seconds. "Yes," she said, because she couldn't do this by lying to them. "Not at you. Never at you. But I was very angry--"
"At who?"
A deep breath. "At the Castle and one of the Jägers. At your father, but not about anything... immediate. And I was working, and I let myself get carried away and not think clearly about the consequences." Her sons. Everyone else's children, too. They were not responsible for their parents doing as they'd always done.
Barry pulled back a little, looking troubled. "At Father about having you here."
"Yes. I love you and Bill very much, and I'm glad you exist, but he was still wrong to threaten my family to make me marry him." He did also love their sons, in his own way. It was a start. You had to start by loving your own. It was more than some people managed. (It was more than she had remembered, for a little while.) The problem was that the Heterodynes so rarely seemed to go any further. She thought the Castle scoffed, but she ignored it this time.
He sighed. "I wish we could fix things." So young to be so serious. Quieter than his brother but both shining in the dark.
She pulled him close again, and this time his head came down on her shoulder. "You will. Later." Soon, maybe. If Barry was showing signs of breakthrough, Bill was probably getting close. What she asked of them wasn't easy, but they would be freer to act than she was. "And sometimes you can't fix everything about a situation, but you can still make it better."
After a moment, Barry let go of her and picked up the toaster. "I'll go put this up in a lab or a storeroom somewhere."
Somewhere his father probably wouldn't notice it, given just how many old inventions Castle Heterodyne held. Somewhere she wouldn't know where it was either. "That's probably a good idea."
Some time later, Bill found her in her workshop (she wasn't doing anything dangerous this time -- well, relatively; you could do a lot of damage with an irrigation system, especially one designed not to corrode easily and with explosive bolt releases for emergencies, but it wasn't the point) and came straight up to hug around her shoulders from behind and put his chin on top of her head. He was getting so tall already. "Feel better?"
"Somewhat." She sighed. "Thank you."
"You know," he said, "it's not intrinsically a suicidal invention. You could use two energy waves with destructive harmonic interference and adjust the relative frequencies to create a safe zone within a given radius. Very useful."
She blinked. Valid, but-- She turned around to look up at him. "When exactly would that be useful?"
"Well, what if you were in the middle of a battle?"
"Hmm. Surrounded by enemies, without any of my own army beyond a small radius? Things clearly aren't going well."
He grinned. "Or maybe you were traveling with a small group in the Wastelands and got swarmed by monsters! Happens all the time."
She arched an eyebrow. "That's a fair point, but have your trips with your father been exciting in ways I didn't previously hear about?"
A wry look. "Trust me, that was the best part. Next time I think I'll ask if we can just go hunting."
"I believe you." She patted his arm. "And that sounds like a good idea. But for less drastic situations, maybe you should stick to something that's easier to aim than a toaster."
"Okay." He hugged her again, and she got up to hug him back properly this time, crossing her wrists behind him to keep from getting grease on his shirt. "We'll make things better," he said in her ear, too softly for the Castle to hear. Probably. "I promise."
"I know," she whispered back, and let him go.
He was humming as he went away. Very much the way his father did when he was working. She stripped off a glove to rub the back of her neck, trying to smooth the fine hairs there back down.
"How many of them do you keep alive through breakthrough, again?" she asked the Castle.
"All the ones who deserve to," it replied, and she rolled her eyes. "They seem a bit tame, really."
There were good things in Mechanicsburg. They wouldn't have made it this long without any good points. And anyone with sense worried about a child in breakthrough, but she thought hers would make it.
They would make things better.
Soon.