Chapter Text
When she was six, and the Undertaking wasn’t quite finished yet, her Uncle Haddock[1] took her with him on an inspection of the construction.
Many years later, she still wasn’t sure if he intended all that followed because of that trip or if he was simply stuck babysitting because her Da needed an afternoon off from his wonderful but rambunctious daughter.
Knowing Vetinari, it was probably the former.
At any rate, after she was dropped off, Uncle Haddock [1] took her hand in his and asked “Would you accompany me on a piece of business or would you rather stay with Drumknott?”
Of course she chose him because Drumknott was nice and all, but was liable to put her to work stuffing envelopes. So they went off in his carriage, her entertained all the while by the shadow puppets her Uncle made against the carriage walls.
They were greeted by Mr Pony of the Artificer’s Guild, and Grag Bashfullson.[2] Mr B as she called him, shook her hand like always, and slipped her some rat later when no one was looking.
The next three hours were the most mind blowing hours up to that point in Little Sam’s life. The machines, the sheer fact that they were in a big tunnel UNDERGROUND, gobsmacked her.
She meant to be quiet and let Uncle Haddock work, like her Mum and Da told her to when she was spending the day with him, but when they finally got to see the Device, the two little cubes slowly revolving she couldn’t hold it in any more and blurted out “How do those make everything work?!”
Uncle Haddock and Mr B exchanged a look. Her Uncle then nodded at Mr Pony. And then to Little Sam’s utter delight, the rest of the time there Mr. Pony answered any questions she had about how the tunnels were being built, how the Device powered the machines being used, what was keeping the water out, and so on and so forth. When he couldn’t answer, he would call over one of the senior dwarf engineers to do so.
When Little Sam was picked up by her Da[3], she brought home a map of the Undertaking that she immediately hung up in her room. She brought home something else too.
“I want to be an engineer, like Mr Pony,” she announced to her parents at dinner that night.
————
“Would you want her to be a Watchman?” Saul had asked Sam soon after that. It was one of her rare nights in[5], and Little Sam was curled up in her lap asleep.
Vimes stroked her daughter’s curly hair, marveling at how thick and soft it was, and thought about it for a second.
“If she wants to, I would never get in her way, and I would be proud but…honestly, no.”
Saul’s eyebrows lifted and Vimes laughed at the look on his face. “What, did you think I would be all about having another Vimes in the Watch?”
At her husband’s sheepish look, she chuckled again, took his hand and went on.
“If our daughter went in to the Watch….I think she would always be the Commander’s daughter, rather than a Watchman in her own right. She has enough to deal with, having an old bag[6] like me for a mum, she shouldn’t have to deal with that as well.”
Vimes looked down at Little Sam and went on. “And she’s still too little probably for me to say this but…I don’t think our lass has the copper in her. She’s more like you than me Saul. And she’s smart. And I’m not just saying that because I’m her mum.”
Saul knew what she meant. They were both amazed to find that their daughter was…well, brilliant, to be blunt.[8]
“I thought that she may want to be a doctor for awhile, with her interest in…uh…”
“Bodies, yes Saul, I thought so too, considering I still have to make sure Igor doesn’t sneak her into an autopsy when she’s by the Yard.”
The conversation stilled for a minute.
“She likes building things,” Saul went on. “And she’s gone nuts over those mine plans Carrot got for her.”
“She is only six,” Sam said.
“Yes. Things could change. But, well. If this is what interests her, it can do no harm to encourage it. There are a lot worse things to fill a gel’s head than math and science.”
Vimes smiled. She agreed. And the thought of her girl maybe using that one-day-brilliant-brain of hers to make things, to invent, to create and build…it rather pleased her.
If anything, she wouldn’t be getting shot and stabbed at, which made her feel better as a Mum.
————
Susan wasn’t feeling very good that day [9], which explains why she decided to indulge in an un-characteristic exercise and she asked the children what their life goal was, going off one of those ridiculous worksheets Miss Frout had shoved at her.
Being Susan of course, she made all of them explain the best that they could how they would go about it.
When it was Little Sam’s turn, she went up and simply said, “I want to clean the River Ankh.”
It was a testament to Susan’s work that no one in her class laughed at Little Sam, even though to their minds this was inherently ridiculous. Susan, remembering some conversations with Little Sam’s parents, decided to prod a bit. “What makes you say that?”
—
“And this is where we get some of our water,” Mr. Pony gestured at the reservoir. For the past six months, he or one of the dwarvish engineers he knew from the Undertaking had been giving Little Sam weekly…he wasn’t sure if he would call them lessons, or an apprenticeship, because she was still so young. But they did consist of them taking her around and, basically, showing her how things worked, as well as major projects under construction.
“Why not the River Ankh?” she had asked, peering up at him through the cloud of her auburn hair.[10]
“Because…well you know why. I know for a fact you weren’t allowed to come last week because your mum caught you walking on the river.”
“But why don’t we clean it? Wouldn’t it be easier to get our water from the Ankh?”
Mr. Pony was about to answer “because” when he realized that that answer really wasn’t becoming of a man of his age and position.
But more than that, looking at Little Sam’s grey eyes, which had gone disconcertingly piercing for a 9 year old, that he was looking at someone who would one day grow to change the world.
He had no idea how one would both clean the river Ankh as well as how to then keep it that way. He could figure it out but he would need a few years, and he had to work. Mrs. Pony was doing better but rent still needed paying. And honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he would be able to figure it out with all the time in the world. Because hand in hand with purifying the river would be providing people with alternatives to keep them from dirtying up the damn thing again.
Little Sam would one day be a woman of power and influence[11]. She would be in a position to devote her time to such a massive undertaking, and have the money to back it up.
George Pony realized that he was potentially looking at a little girl who could go to change Ankh Morpork forever.
“Well, no one has done so yet. Maybe you will. For now, lets talk about how we keep the water clean here…”
———-
Young ladies of quality, when they got to be 14 or 15, were usually married off, or sent to the QSFYL for polishing before being married off. Young men of quality were usually on their third or fourth year at the Assassin’s Guild.
Little Sam, who at 14 now wished to be called Samantha please[12], did neither of those things, and instead went down with her parents to the Artful Angel, the unofficial headquarters of the Artificer’s Guild, and asked Mr. George Pony, leader of the Guild, if he would take her on as an apprentice.
Mr. Pony would have immediately said yes. President Pony of the Guild had to deal with the immediate uproar of “But she’s a gel!” from his fellow board members.
He looked at the Ramkin-Vimeses. Lord Saul had his hand clamped on his wife’s, probably to prevent her from doing anything foolish. Vimes had the utterly still look that had earned her the nickname “Old Stoneface”. Samantha showed signs of having inherited that, letting the insults rain over her, though he noticed that she had gone pale. Pony had warned them that this might happen, even though Samantha had been tagging along with him or one of their dwarf members for years.
“That they could dismiss as us humoring you, or your parents,” he had told Samantha the week before. “When you go up there though, they wont see the work you have already done[13], or what you’ve learned so far. All they will see is that you are a girl.”
-
When they had gotten home from that first meeting with Mr. Pony, Samantha rushed upstairs, assuredly not-crying.
Vimes gave her a few minutes and then made her way up there.
She knocked on the door. “Little Sam?[14] Permission to enter?” She heard a snurffle that she decided to take as a yes, so she went in and immediately had a sobbing teenager in her arms. She led her over to her bed[15] and laid them down, stroking her hair as Samantha cried herself out on the itchy wool of her sweater.
Finally she calmed down enough to ask Sam “how…how did you do it Mummy?”
Vimes thought for a second about it. She had hoped, considering the amount of women on the Watch, that her daughter wouldn’t have to face this obstacle. It seemed however that there was still work to be done.
“Well…when I joined the Watch, they were so hard up for people they took me in on the spot. I think it helped that I am…the way I am.”
She began to stroke her daughter’s hair. “For the longest time, as long as you acted like one of the lads, they didn’t care if you had bits or tits. But I noticed that everything I did, I had to do twice as good as the men, for half the recognition. Unless I got it wrong, in which case I was told off loudly in front of everyone else.”
Vimes looked down at Little Sam, seeing in her face the same grey gaze she saw in the mirror every morning. “So I had to work twice as hard, be better than everyone else, for half the recognition. And it was hard, and it wasn’t fair.”
She wiped one last tear off her lass’s face. “But I got promoted[16], and when I was able too, I hired more women,and then your Aunt Cheery and Aunt Angua helped of course and slowly things are getting better.”
Vimes thought for a moment. “It’s hard, being the first. But by being first, you help everyone else after you. Got it?”
Samantha nodded.
-
After two hours of arguing, the board came out and told Samantha that they would let her in, provided that she could pass the maths tests they had their second year students take.
Not that it would do much good, because sorry honey, everyone knows gels can’t do maths.
If they were expecting tears,they were disappointed. If they were expecting protest at the unfairness of their decision they were equally disappointed.
Sybil Samantha Deirdre Ramkin-Vimes was going to be the Disc’s first female engineer, and nothing these old men could say or do would dissuade her.
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[1] And oh didn’t Sam love that her daughter called one of the most powerful men on the Disc “Haddock”.
[2] as there was a Device being used to power the construction and eventually the Undertaking, Vetinari thought it politic to have a Grag overseeing the construction as well though the Device now technically belonged to the city.
[3] “Was she good for you Havelock?” “Yes, as always Sir Saul.” “Okay Sam, give hugs and say bye,” Saul said, as he watched his daughter launch herself at the Patrician.[4]
[4] Vimes, seeing this once, had a feeling that Saul liked seeing Vetinari discomfited. It’s hard to be a stoic, all knowing tyrant with a wriggling and slightly sticky little girl climbing all over you.
[5] Sam would come home usually around 5, they would take an early for most people dinner, she would visit with Little Sam and Saul for about an hour, hour and a half, and then go back to work.
[6] Saul let this one slide because she clearly had more to say, but one of these days he would get Sam to see how good, how much of a wonderful person she was.[7]
[7] it always amazed Sam that Saul thought this way about her. She knew better. She had dents in her armor, blood on her hands, and that damn scar on her wrist to remind her.
[8] Sam and Saul being the kind of people they were, they each said Little Sam had gotten it from the other.
[9] and she had no idea how, as she had never been ill in her entire life. Two weeks later, when she missed a certain date, she realized why. Then promptly became furious.
[10]Sam had done her hair that day. It was, as usual, half out of the ponytail by the time Little Sam was out of the door.
[11] no matter how much Vimes denied it.
[12] she never really felt like a Sybil and Deirdre, though she would never tell her father this, sounded like a wet young woman who wrote loads of soppy poetry. Samantha though…she liked being a Samantha, shedding Little Sam now that she was slightly of age, and had the added bonus of still distinguishing herself from her mum.
[13] at twelve, after seeing that some of the signaling arms in the Undertaking were prone to sticking, Samantha had spent a month in her room fiddling around, and came up with a solution.
[14] only her mother was allowed to call her that still.
[15] Samantha already was several inches taller than her mother, taking after Saul in height, and it was hard at times to comfort when your daughter was already a head taller than you.
[16] because there were only three of them at that point, and even as a drunk, Sam was still the best option. She didn’t say that thought because it would have defeated the purpose.