Фил Фоглио - Agatha H. and the Siege of Mechanicsburg

Zola spoke slowly. “I don’t understand. A mistake? How? She was—”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! My child! Prepared and conditioned—and maybe if those fools had found her ten years ago. Or if that Barry—” she spat the name “—hadn’t interfered by giving her that wretched locket . . . ”4

Lucrezia turned with a glare, and Zola spied the locket shining amidst the clutter atop the workbench. Lucrezia seemed to deflate slightly.

“But . . . maybe not.” She picked up a small mirror and stared into it. “Maybe she simply has too much of her father in her after all.” Zola was astonished to see a tear well up in one of her aunt’s eyes. “This is all his fault,” she whispered. Lucrezia became aware of Zola’s interest and slammed the mirror down hard enough to crack it. “The point is that, for whatever reason, Agatha is too strong. It has become too easy for her to seize control of this body and keep me from taking it back. I am not winning. And worse, she’s learning things from me! Reaching into my mind and pulling out my secrets! She knew to look for this place! She intuitively grasps the principles of my work!”

She took a breath and Zola dared to interject, “But that’s not uncommon. Your own work, while magnificent in its own right, of course, is a recognizable extension of some of your father’s theories. Many sparks within a family have a natural insight—”

She flinched as Lucrezia’s fists slammed down on the bench before her, punctuating her words. “SILENCE!” she shrieked. “This! Girl! Must! Die!” She glared, panting, at Zola, who wisely said nothing. After a moment, Lucrezia regained control of herself and straightened up. Zola was immediately reminded of a cat that had fallen off a table and was nonchalantly pretending this was exactly what it had wanted to do.

“Ideally,” Lucrezia muttered, “I would just destroy this body now while I still have control.”

Zola blinked. “That’s ideally?”

Lucrezia was obviously thinking about something else, but a part of her blithely chatted on. “Of course. Now that my priestesses have my Summoning Engine working, all they need to do is call me into some other suitable vessels. I’ve managed to expand the operating parameters so I should have ever so many more choices now. Destroying the part of me that’s occupying this wretched girl won’t destroy me at all. Not even close. Redundancy allows one to be much more relaxed about sacrificing individual iterations.”5 She frowned, “But . . . but in this calling, I have gained valuable information. Killing this girl before I have had a chance to pass it on . . . ” She shook her head and, once again, focused her full attention on Zola. “Luckily, I won’t have to go through the whole ‘summoning’ rigmarole with you, dear.” She smiled reassuringly and patted the machine’s carapace. “That wouldn’t help me at all in this situation. The new calling would have none of the knowledge I have gained in this body. No, instead I can simply use this lovely old toy of mine to copy myself from this troublesome girl into you. Then I will kill her.” She smiled at Zola. “After that, I shall rendezvous with the Sturmhalten hive, round up a few more suitable girls, and then give myself all the important information over tea. Yes, that sounds perfect. I think I’ll have those little jam sandwiches. I’ve really missed them . . . ”

“No.”

Zola’s quiet but emphatic statement caused Lucrezia to laugh with delight. She regarded Zola with genuine amusement. “Oh, I do so love a truly defiant subject! They’re so much fun! If only I had the time to do it right!”

Zola kept talking. “It won’t work, auntie. If you try to force yourself into my brain, you’ll suffer rezzok tig-zaffa.”

Lucrezia’s hilarity cut off as if a switch had been thrown. Zola nodded, “That is what your Geisterdamen call mutual brain death, yes?”

Lucrezia scowled. “I see you are very well informed, aren’t you?”

Zola nodded. “Yes, I am. All those years ago? When you sent the Geisterdamen here to build your machines and hunt for your daughter Agatha? Some of those priestesses began to question the divinity of the great goddess they served so blindly. They began to think, to ask questions, and to see you for the fraud you are.”

Lucrezia’s slap threatened to dislocate Zola’s jaw. “FRAUD?” Lucrezia’s fury was palpable. “How dare you! You know nothing! NOTHING!” She reached overhead and brought down a headset encrusted with components, then slammed it down on Zola’s head. “I shall simply blast your mind from your body and rebuild your neural pathways!”

“You can’t,” Zola screamed from under the helmet. “Just like you can’t use the Geisterdamen! For pity’s sake, listen to me!”

Lucrezia—a live, sparking cable in her hand—paused. Zola continued. “Mother found your Loremistress Milvistle. She jumped at the chance to study such a high-ranking Geister. She learned everything Milvistle knew. One of the things she learned was how to block you, if you ever came back and tried to pull just this sort of nonsense. Even if you brainwashed me to the point where I wanted to sacrifice myself, I couldn’t let you take me over.” She peered out at Lucrezia. “And it would get very messy. Go on, test me. Run a blue phase engram alignment. I’ll wait.”

Zola could see Lucrezia’s fury rising. Now was her chance. “But! I can let you ride along inside my head! I can tell you how to do the modifications that will let you get out of here, if you’ll stop menacing me long enough to actually listen.”

Lucrezia stared at her and then carefully put down the cable. “Good heavens, dear. You seriously did intend to help me? But why didn’t you say so?”

Zola simply glared at her. Lucrezia shrugged. “Oh, I know. Working with family really can be infuriating. Fine. I’m listening.”

Zola nearly sagged with relief. “About time. So . . . You want the Heterodyne girl dead? I am all for that. But unless you work with me, you’ll lose everything you’ve learned here. Including everything you’ve just learned from me about the family.”

Lucrezia slowly tapped her finger. “Do get to the point, dear.”

Zola licked her lips. “Just what I said. I can let you in—you can share my mind—”

Lucrezia slapped the bench. “Share my power, you mean. I do see where this is going, you presumptuous little—”

“Precisely. I want to play too. Now, the Order has been very busy while you’ve been away. They have gone to a lot of trouble to set me in place as the lost Heterodyne heir. Their plan has gone wrong in every possible way, but it has its good points. Together, we can still make it work.”

Lucrezia growled. “Those fools in the Order with their stupid, shortsighted ‘plans.’ I knew I should have killed half of them years ago. The difficulty was in deciding which half.”

Zola felt a flash of sympathy. “Fools, yes, but most of them are still loyal to you.”

“Oh lucky, lucky me.”

“But the family—”

Lucrezia smiled. “Oh hush, dear, I already know everyone is plotting against me. But, purely by accident, you might have a valid argument.” As she said this, Lucrezia removed the helmet, then wheeled over an alarming-looking device that consisted primarily of a number of loaded syringes—which were all aiming at Zola’s head. Lucrezia picked up a switchbox and the device lit up and flexed slightly. A drop of solution fell next to Zola’s hand and a wisp of acrid smoke puffed upwards.

Lucrezia studied a small screen. “Now, lie to me. Just for calibration purposes, darling. Are you male?”

“Yes.”

Lucrezia nodded. “Good enough.”

Zola jerked in her seat. “What? No, it isn’t. To properly calibrate—”