With a deep breath, she took a step into the warehouse.
The Victorian dolls did not move.
Lailani walked between two of them, pale things her height. Both wore funeral gowns, complete with veils. Ahead, hundreds of other dolls still stood in the shadows. Lailani wormed her way between them, step by step, fearful to even touch them.
A bark sounded.
Lailani froze and gasped.
Epimetheus came running through the shadows toward her, knocking into the Victorian dolls. He leaped onto her.
"Epi!" She hugged him. Tears flowed down her cheeks. "Oh, Epi, I missed you. Come on, boy, we're—"
A creak sounded.
One of the dolls moved its head.
Lailani stared. Epimetheus growled at her side.
Another doll turned its head toward them, creaking. Its eyes opened, shining lavender.
Across the shadowy halls, hundreds of heads turned toward Lailani and Epimetheus. Hundreds of eyes opened, shining.
Lailani stood frozen, daring not even breathe.
Epimetheus barked.
The hundreds of robotic dolls lunged toward them.
Porcelain hands grabbed her. Tiny mouths opened, filled with real human teeth, perhaps yanked from the jaws of screaming victims. Those mouths bit. Those teeth cut Lailani. She shouted. She kicked and punched. Her fist slammed into a doll's face, shattering the porcelain, and her knuckles bled. She kicked another doll, knocking it down, only for several more to leap at her. They tugged her hair. They scraped her skin. They ripped her clothes. They chanted around her, laughing, singing. Their voices were shrill, growing higher and higher in pitch with every verse.
Hickory, dickory, dock.
The girl ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
The girl ran down,
Hickory, dickory, dock.
Lailani shouted as they bit her, as her blood spilled. One doll tore out a clump of hair. Lailani kept punching, shattering their faces, exposing the gears within. Their eyes blazed red now, and maniacal grins twisted their faces.
Hickory, dickory, dock.
The girl ran up the clock.
The clock struck three,
The girl did plea!
Hickory, dickory, dock.
Lailani fell to her knees, bleeding. Epimetheus was fighting at her side, but the dolls were tugging him, ripping him. They knocked the dog down, laughing, patting him violently, twisting his jaw. They kept singing all the while, hundreds of voices echoing in the warehouse, growing louder and louder, shriller and shriller.
Hickory, dickory, dock.
The girl's in for a shock.
We tore her apart,
And stole her heart!
Hickory, dickory, dock!
Lailani managed to rise. She fought through them, but more hands grabbed her. The dolls pulled her arms behind her back. They grabbed her cheeks, tugged her eyelids, laughing, laughing, singing.
"Soon you'll be one of us!" said a doll.
"One of us!" the dolls chanted.
A shattered girl, her face spilling gears, swung open her metal ribs. Inside her torso beat a human heart.
"You will join us soon, Lailani," the creature said, then cackled, showering sparks. Its human heart pounded.
I'm already like you, Lailani thought, staring in horror, caught in the grip of the dolls. I'm already part human, part monster.
Her heart thumped in her chest. The dolls placed their hands over it, feeling, whispering, nodding.
"Hickory dickory dock," they said. "You can't escape the clock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Clockwork. Tock-work. Hickory tickory tock!" They lifted her overhead, carrying her as a sacrificial lamb, and her blood fell upon them. "Tick tock, tiptoe, tick-tock dolls! Coin-operated princess! Tick tock through the tulips with us. Soon you will know the Tick-Tock King!"
They carried her through their kingdom. They carried her up coiling tubes. They carried her toward double doors and into a room full of knives and saws. There he waited, wearing bloodstained scrubs. Grinning behind his surgical mask. Gloves on his long, long hands. He held a scalpel.
"I have been waiting for you, Lailani," Schroder said. "Now you become one of us. My precious doll. Forever."
They strapped her to a tabletop. She struggled, screamed, could not free herself. Beside her, she saw a porcelain doll sitting on a shelf. Lifeless. Her chest was open, an empty chasm awaiting. A sweet doll, made to look Asian, her lips like a heart, her eyelashes long and dark. A coin slot on her head. Coin-operated princess. Tick-tock girl. Hickory Dickory Dock. Lailani's new clockwork body. Her new monstrosity.
"Are you ready, HOBBS?" the doctor asked. "We will not use a rib spreader with this one. I think we will rip out her ribs, one by one. I would like to hear them snap. I would like to hear her scream. Your hands are strong enough for the task."
He stepped forward, her massive battle machine, all dark steel. He had reattached his arm, and his eyes shone red.
"Yes, master," HOBBS said.
Lailani looked for Epimetheus. He was gone. All was gone. Hickory Dickory Dock. Where, O Where Has My Little Dog Gone? Old songs. Old rhymes her mother had once sung her.
A tear streamed down her cheek.
"I'll make the first incision," Schroder said.
He brought his scalpel down. It was so sharp it didn't hurt. Lailani barely felt a thing as the blade entered her chest.
Another tear fell.
She gazed into HOBBS's eyes. Long ago, so many years gone that Lailani could barely remember, her mother had sung her a song. A song to comfort her on those long nights in the dark, nights alone by the train tracks, cowering as the junkies and whores and cutthroats moved around them. A song of having no home. Of a single light in the darkness. A song she had sung for HOBBS in a jungle world, cradling him as he faded away.
As the scalpel moved, she sang that old song again, tears flowing.
How many miles to Babylon?
Three score and ten.
Can I get there by candlelight?
Yes, and back again.
HOBBS stared at her. She gazed back into his eyes, crying.
"If your heels are nimble and light," she whispered.
His eyes faded. They gave the fainted flicker of blue. He spoke, his voice soft, organic, mournful.
"You may get there by candlelight."
His massive metal hand reached out and grabbed Schroder's wrist.
His hand tightened, shattering that wrist.
The doctor screamed.
HOBBS twisted Schroder's arm. Bones snapped. The second metal hand grabbed Schroder's throat. HOBBS lifted the man, squeezing, suffocating him.
Lailani lay on the table, strapped down, the scalpel still inside her.
"Don't kill him," she whispered. "Show him mercy."
But HOBBS kept his metal hand around Schroder's throat. The man kicked, his feet not touching the floor. His face turned red, then crimson.
"He must die," HOBBS said. His eyes were now blue. He was back. He was HOBBS again. He was her friend.
"No," Lailani said. "I've killed enough people. Let him live."
HOBBS released the doctor. Schroder fell to the floor, gasping, and cradled his shattered wrist.
They bound him. They gagged him. But they let him live.
I already killed Elvis. I will not kill another.
Lailani walked through the complex, weak, pale. Stitches ran down her chest. Epimetheus and HOBBS walked at her sides.
"Your memory?" she whispered.
"Restored, mistress," said HOBBS. He turned his head toward her. Though he had no mouth, his eyes seemed to smile. "I remember the dragons of Mahatek. I remember the hourglass. I remember our friendship." He lowered his head. "I am sorry, mistress, that I betrayed you."
She shook her head. "You did not. Schroder did. Humans cannot be trusted. He told me that once. But he lied." She placed her hand on HOBBS's arm. "He lied."
He held her small hand in his m
assive, metal grip, warm and protective.
HOBBS knew how to find all the robots here who had hearts. Seventeen of them, the hearts of their victims pulsing within. The doctor's wife, his children, his lovers, others he had slain. Seventeen victims. Seventeen beating hearts in metal machines. They took them into the Ryujin. They left the other robots behind.
Once the starship was far enough, the heartless robots of Elliot Schroder would wake up, would free their master. He would remain in his underground playground of madness. But nobody else would visit him. Nobody else would fall to his evil.
Lailani updated Wikipedia Galactica about this distant world.
Warning: Extreme Danger. Keep away.
They flew into the darkness. One woman. One dog. Eighteen robots with human hearts. Holding the hourglass to her chest, Lailani gazed at the rocky world.
"Remain with your toys," she whispered. "Remain with your madness." She closed her eyes, and the tears gathered. She whispered, voice trembling. "How many miles to Babylon? Three score and ten. Can I get there by candlelight?"
HOBBS placed a hand on his shoulder. He spoke gently. "Yes, and back again. If your heels are nimble and light, you may get there by candlelight."
She opened her eyes, gazed at her friend through her tears, and smiled.
The rocky world vanished in the distance. They flew onward.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Lodestar burst out from warped space ahead of Earth, flying into a sea of human starships.
A thousand of them flew ahead. A thousand starships small and large. The fleet of humanity. The hope of Earth.
I roused them in time, Ben-Ari thought, standing on the Lodestar's bridge. Now our great battle begins.
She gazed upon the fleet. Three massive starfighter carriers flew here: the Sparta, the Athens, and the Thebes. All three were new, built since the marauder war two years ago. All three were among the mightiest ships humanity had ever built, containing weaponry unknown during the previous wars. Among these three terrors flew thirty warships, nearly as large, lined with cannons, their shields thick, their holds containing enough munitions to destroy civilizations. Finally, among these behemoths, flew hundreds of smaller vessels, ranging from space-tanks with crews of five to agile Firebird starfighters with a single pilot.
Even more inspiring than the military ships were the civilian ones.
Hundreds had risen to fight too, a fleet of volunteers.
Mining vessels. Trading barges. Pleasure pontoons. Racing ships. Even an antique space shuttle from the twentieth century, now owned by a collector. Cannons were mounted upon these ships. Civilians piloted them. No, not civilians, not today. Today they were soldiers. Today they were among the bravest of humanity.
In total, the human ships numbered a thousand.
It was inspiring.
And it was nothing.
It was but an echo of humanity's lost glory. During the Scum War only ten years ago, Ben-Ari had flown among a hundred thousand starships toward Abaddon. Two galactic wars had devastated humanity. A decade of fire had nearly destroyed them. Earth had beaten the scum and marauders—but at a horrible cost. Only one percent of humanity's might remained today.
But it will be enough, Ben-Ari told herself. It will have to be. We are the survivors. We are the mightiest of our race. We will overcome.
She did not wear her fine captain's uniform today, the navy-blue fabric bedecked with polished brass buttons. Instead, she had raided the security guards' wardrobe. She stood now on the bridge clad in black, body armor protecting her—a hardened vest and pads for her elbows and knees. She wore a helmet too, and she carried her plasma rifle. She had insisted on dressing for battle, even inside a nonmilitary starship, even as the other officers had exchanged uneasy glances. Ben-Ari had fought enough space battles to know that even here, even aboard mighty starships, war often came down to hand-to-hand combat. Even for the captain. She would be ready.
Aurora extended her tentacles, guiding the Lodestar toward the head of humanity's fleet. The pilot then turned the ship around, and they faced the depth of space.
From that darkness, they came flying.
The enemy armada.
Ten thousand charging saucers, only moments away.
Some were small red saucers, each with a single gray pilot. Some were motherships that dwarfed even the human carriers. All were flying death. All promised the destruction of old humanity. All would see Earth burn.
Then we must kill them all, Ben-Ari thought.
"Mistress of dark waters," said Aurora, speaking to Ben-Ari. "Like beads of light in a murky sea, the song of sharks reaches our shell. Shall we gaze into their light?"
Ben-Ari had to contemplate that for a moment. I think she's telling me we're receiving a transmission from the enemy fleet, and she's asking if she should patch them through. We really need to upgrade her translator.
Ben-Ari clenched her jaw. She nodded. "Central viewport."
A screen before her came online. Ben-Ari inhaled sharply. Around her, the bridge crew cursed.
A hideous visage appeared on the monitor before her. It was a gray general, half his face shattered, the rest burnt, his skin peeling. Shards of broken skull thrust out from his cheek, and several of his teeth hung loose. He stared at her with cruel black eyes, one bulging out and blind. Around his chest hung his hearts, withered and dripping, no longer pumping.
"Hello, Einav," Abyzou hissed. "Did you think me dead?"
"I'm still not sure you're alive," Ben-Ari said. "I've seen month-old corpses in better shape."
The wretched, dripping creature cackled. "You cannot win, Captain. You have a thousand ships, most of them weak, fragile vessels not geared for war. I fly to you with ten thousand machines of might. Surrender now. Surrender and become our slaves. Serve Nefitis. And live in chains."
Ben-Ari stared into that dark, black eye. She squared her shoulders. "We have lived in chains before. We were slaves to the marauders. Never again. You face a small fleet, that is true. But you face free warriors, noble and proud. You face humanity. Know that the scum and marauders have tried to defeat us before. They both failed."
Abyzou laughed—a deep, gurgling laugh that brought blood to his shattered teeth. "We are no alien race, Einav. We are the true humans. Evolved. Supreme. You are but apes, embarrassing ancestors. Earth is ours. It has always been ours. You will serve us as slaves. Or you will die in fire, and your ashes shall feed our fields!"
Ben-Ari frowned. "Sorry, I missed those last couple of sentences. Transmission garbled. Something about how you're embarrassing?"
She glanced at Aurora and swiped her finger across her throat. With a nod, the mollusk cut the transmission.
"I've never been one for smack talk," Ben-Ari said to her crew.
Humor. An attempt to hide her fear, perhaps. To comfort her crew. Inside, she was ice and fire.
Fish came to stand at her side. The Australian was finally wearing his uniform, though he had kept his shark-tooth necklace. His long blond hair was tucked behind his ears. He stared at the gray fleet, eyes hard with determination and haunted with fear.
"Crikey, look at those drongos," he muttered. "I'll be stuffed, it's chokers out there, and they're mad as thirsty mozzies." He turned toward Ben-Ari. "Are you sure about this, sheila? Maybe we should chuck a sickie. Sit this one out. The Lodestar is no warship."
"She is now," Ben-Ari said. "Every ship of humanity is now a warship."
Professor Isaac came to stand at their side. "And today we are all soldiers. Even the scientists. Today all humanity is an army." He gave Ben-Ari a soft smile. "And I'm glad that you lead us. I'm proud to call you my captain."
She smiled back at him. She placed her hand on his arm. "And I'm proud to call you my friend."
The enemy fleet flew closer. Within minutes, the saucers would be upon them.
A raspy, baritone voice emerged from her communicator.
"Welcome home, Captain."
Even with the loom
ing battle, Ben-Ari couldn't help but smile. "Hello, Mr. President."
"I heard you destroyed a few of these ships on the way here," President Petty said. "Nice of you to leave us a few."
"I wanted to share some of the fun," Ben-Ari said.
James Petty had been her commanding officer during the Marauder War. Gruff, stubborn, and courageous, he had always reminded her of an aging lion, still king of his pride despite his advanced years. The general had risen even higher after the war, winning a landslide election to become the new president of Earth's Alliance of Nations. Until now, presidents had always commanded battles from bunkers. Ben-Ari did not ask Petty for his location; she knew he would not reveal it over the communicator. But she had a feeling he was commanding the Sparta, the largest of the warships.
Of course he is, she thought. The old general wouldn't miss a chance to fight. Truly an old lion, proud and stubborn. And this lion's fangs are still sharp.
"Will you speak a few words to the fleet before the battle?" Petty asked her.
Ben-Ari nodded. "Patch me through."
Lights appeared on the viewport before her, one by one, as the fleets of humanity came online, as they connected to her communicator. A thousand lights, large and small. A thousand candles in the dark.
Ben-Ari clasped the professor's hand. His grip was warm and comforting. Surprising her, Fish took her second hand, his grip equally confident.
She took a deep breath. And she spoke.
"To the fleet of humanity! This is Einav Ben-Ari. You all know who I am. You all know of my service in the Galactic Wars. Some have called me a heroine. But today I will not speak of myself but of you. For today you—every man and woman in this fleet—are all heroes. Today you are all afraid. But today you will all do your duty. You will all fight. You will be tempted to flee! In the heat of battle, as starships explode around you, as flaming corpses rain toward our blue planet, your fear will call you to fall back. But you will charge forth nonetheless! You will fight onward! You will fight with all your strength, you will do your duty, and you will win!"
Earth Honor (Earthrise Book 8) Page 16