Lailani gulped. "It's . . . just a teeny, tiny little tear. Many kilometers out in space. Nobody will even notice. Right, HOBBS?"
"I do not know, mistress. I am not an expert on these matters. The grays are the true masters of time travel. We are not. We cannot see all that they can." He looked at her. "I would suggest that we destroy this hourglass."
She stared at him. She raised her chin. "No."
The robot seemed almost to scowl. It shocked her, even scared her.
"Mistress, we must," HOBBS said. "We—"
"We need this hourglass," Lailani insisted. "We need this weapon." She took a deep breath. "The grays are the masters of time travel, you said. They are enemies from the future. If Earth is at war with those creatures, we'll need a time machine of our own. HOBBS, we're not destroying this hourglass." She took a deep breath and reentered the cockpit. "We're taking it back to Earth."
The Ryujin flew, leaving behind a hellish planet, a nightmarish moon, and a rift in the cosmos.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Father!"
Ben-Ari pushed down on the throttle, and her mechanical horse burst into a gallop. As the battle raged around her, covering the plains of Mongolia, she rode toward her father. The bruised and bloodied man knelt. He seemed barely alive. He gazed at her, panting, one eye swollen shut. His arms and legs were chained.
"Not too close now!" Abyzou said, smirking.
The Gray Prince stood within his mecha, amusement in his eyes. The mecha was shaped as a great scorpion, large as a dragon. Abyzou's body was visible inside the scorpion's chest, protected behind a sheet of glass. The mechanical arachnid loomed over Ben-Ari's father. Its metal stinger rose, large as an oak.
"That's close enough, girl," Abyzou said. "One more step, and this stinger bursts through your father's chest."
Ben-Ari hit the brakes. The robotic horse she rode froze several meters away from her father. They faced off on the hill: a human woman in body armor, wearing a jet pack, riding astride a robotic horse; and the Gray Prince, deformed and wretched, within a metal scorpion suit the size of a T-rex. Between them knelt Colonel Yoram Ben-Ari.
My father, she thought. The man I once hated. The man who gave me his ship, who helped me fight the marauders. The man I dare not see die now.
Father looked up at her.
"Einavi," he rasped. Blood caked his dusty hair. "I . . . I fought them. I remembered what you said. About fighting for Earth. I came back. For Earth. For you."
She sat on her horse, her fists trembling around the controls. She stared up at Abyzou. Her eyes burned. She spoke through clenched teeth.
"What do you want?"
The scorpion inched closer. The stinger rose higher, ready to strike. From inside the mecha suit, Abyzou stared at her. He grinned, half his smile melting into the ruin of his wounds. Shards of his broken skull were visible, piercing the flesh. She had hurt him last time they had met. She had hurt him badly. But if his body was frail, his scorpion suit was not. It was larger, faster, deadlier by far than the robotic horse she rode.
"I offer you this deal," Abyzou hissed. "The life of your father . . . in exchange for yours."
"Don't do it!" Father cried, and Abyzou swung his arm. The scorpion's claw moved in tandem, slammed into Father, and knocked him down.
Every instinct in Ben-Ari screamed to leap off her horse, to run to her father. She forced herself to stay mounted, to stay still. She did not break eye contact with Abyzou.
"I have a better deal for you!" she said. "You call off your hosts, and you flee this world with your tail between your legs. In exchange, I will offer you mercy." She bared her teeth. "If you remain, I will kill you."
Abyzou laughed, the sound dripping with pain, jangling the shards of bone in his cheek.
"Still you do not understand, Einav," the Gray Prince said. "We are your children. You are our blessed mother. It was you who marooned the Nefitian monks on a desert world, destroying their starships. You started their evolution. You left the monks to grow harder, stronger, wiser, to evolve into us." Abyzou clenched his fists, and the scorpion's claws tightened. "You created the Sanctified Sons. You gave rise to Nefitis, my mother and your goddess. For that, she seeks you. For that, you may sit forever at her table, ruling this world at her side!" His eyes shone. "Instead of a miserable wretch, screaming in chains, you can become a goddess! Join us, Einav. Join us and your father shall live. Join us and you will be spared the eternal torment Nefitis has promised you. Join us now as the peak of human evolution rises, and you will rise with us!" He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Refuse, and your father dies now. Refuse, and instead of sitting at Nefitis's side, you will scream upon her altar as her claws rip out your organs. This is your choice. Eternal glory or eternal damnation."
She stared at him.
He's not sure he can win, she thought. That's why he makes this offer. She tightened her jaw. He's scared.
She looked down at her father. He knelt on the ground, chained, beaten, but he met her gaze with clear eyes. And she knew what he wanted her to do. How he had always taught her to live.
He has always loved Earth more than he loved me, she thought. He expects me to place Earth first too.
She looked back at Abyzou. She sat tall on her horse. She had discarded her empty plasma rifle. She held two new weapons now. In one hand, she held an assault rifle taken from a dead infantrymen. In the other, she held an electrical rod she had taken off a dead gray warrior.
"You call yourselves the pinnacle of human evolution!" she said. "I call you decayed, wretched, and evil. Yours is the path we will not take! I look around me at the world. And I see in humanity cruelty, greed, violence. I see fear, superstition, hatred. I see men and women stabbing others in the back. I see ideologies of bigotry and violence crush the meek under their heels. I see a world overrun with sin." She spoke louder. "But I see nobility too! I see sons and daughters willing to dedicate their lives—and their deaths—to save their families. I see poets and painters create art to inspire millions. I see sacrifice, honor, and valor. I see the ugliness of humanity but our beauty too, what we can become. You and your kind have succumbed to the base instincts inside humanity. You let compassion die out, and you replaced it with malice. That will not be our path! Let your presence here be a warning to us, a vision of what we could become. We will not become you, Abyzou. We will choose the path of honor." She spoke more softly now. "A young species we are. We have only dipped our toes into the cosmic ocean. We still have so much to learn, to explore, to become. You showed us the path of shadows. We will choose the path of light."
Abyzou sneered. His scorpion reared. "Then you choose death!"
The mechanical scorpion swung its tail.
Ben-Ari galloped, tried to stop it, but she was too far.
The scorpion's stinger burst through her father's chest.
Ben-Ari halted on her horse, staring, tears in her eyes, terror in her heart.
The robotic scorpion raised its tail, lifting Father off the ground. The colonel hung, skewered upon the metal. The scorpion flicked its tail, tossing Father down the hill.
Ben-Ari screamed and charged on her horse toward Abyzou, firing her rifle. Her bullets slammed into the glass plating, but it withstood the assault. Abyzou grinned, and the scorpion raced toward her on its mechanical legs.
An instant before the two machines could crash together, Ben-Ari reared on her horse, lifted her electrical rod, and held it forth like a lance. Bolts of electricity flew out, slamming into the scorpion. Ben-Ari veered and rode around the mecha, feeling like a medieval knight battling a dragon.
Electricity raced across the scorpion. Within the mecha, Abyzou screamed as the bolts shocked him. His skin sizzled. He swung his body around. His scorpion mecha spun in tandem, lashing its tail.
Ben-Ari charged, ducked under the swinging tail, and thrust her electric rod again. She slammed the tip against the scorpion, then released another bolt of electricity.
Inside the mecha,
Abyzou howled. Smoke rose from him. Ben-Ari leaned into her rod, keeping it pressed against the scorpion. As electricity flowed into her enemy, she made eye contact with him.
"It's over, Abyzou," she hissed, releasing another pulse of electricity. "You and your mother lost."
He swung his arm.
The scorpion's metal claw, as large and thick as a street lamp, swung into her horse.
Both Ben-Ari and her robotic mount flew.
They flipped in midair. Ben-Ari cried out and leaped off the horse. She hit the ground and instantly scurried away. The mechanical horse slammed onto the ground only centimeters away.
It had almost crushed her. It did crush her electrical rod.
The scorpion reared above the fallen horse, claws extended. Abyzou cackled within, his skin burnt away, his eyes blazing with maniacal fury.
Ben-Ari loaded a new magazine into her rifle.
The claws swung.
She leaped back, and the claws slammed into the soil.
She fired her rifle on automatic, emptying the magazine. Bullets slammed into the scorpion, doing it no harm.
The claws slammed down again, and she leaped back. Damn it! She wanted to call for some aid—artillery and armor backup—but the other forces were all engaged in their own battles. She snarled, loaded another magazine, and—
The scorpion spun around, lashing its tail.
The great metal whip, as thick as a tree trunk, slammed into Ben-Ari.
It cracked her armor and tossed her into the air.
She seemed to fly forever.
She crashed onto the ground, unable to breathe.
The blow had shattered the side of her suit, armor built to withstand bullets and the inferno of atmospheric reentry. If she survived until tomorrow, her body would be covered in bruises. She struggled to her feet, gasping for air, able to inhale only thin whiffs. It felt like she had cracked a rib. She hit her communicator. She needed some backup, dammit! But the communicator buzzed uselessly, crushed in the assault. Her jet pack sputtered, its engine dead.
The tail swung again.
She leaped aside, and the scorpion's stinger, still red with Father's blood, sank into the soil.
She grabbed a grenade from her belt and hurled it.
She leaped behind her fallen horse, hit the ground, and covered her head.
The explosion rocked the hill. Chunks of earth and grass pattered onto her. When she rose again, she gazed at the scorpion.
The massive machine still stood. A single crack appeared on the glass shielding Abyzou. The scorpion mecha was otherwise undamaged.
The claws reached down and lifted the mechanical horse.
Ben-Ari ran.
Abyzou tossed the horse, and Ben-Ari leaped aside. The horse grazed her arm, chipping her armor, and she screamed. She fired her rifle, aiming at the crack in the glass. Her bullets glanced off harmlessly. One bullet ricocheted and hit her leg, leaving a deep dent in her armor. She cried out in pain.
I can't beat him, she realized. He's too strong.
Abyzou grabbed her in his metal claws. He lifted her, and she screamed, thrashing in his grip. He tossed her against a boulder. The stone cracked. Ben-Ari slumped to the ground, head spinning. She gasped for air.
Abyzou lifted the boulder and swung it into her.
Pain exploded. White light flared.
She hit the ground.
For an instant, she couldn't see. She lay sprawled on blood-soaked soil. Her head tilted, and she saw the battle below the hill.
She saw that humanity was losing.
More saucers were arriving. Fresh battalions of grays were spilling forth, covering the land. Tanks burned. Entire human brigades lay fallen. No more human fighter jets flew. Ben-Ari watched as a laser beam flew from a saucer, carving through lines of human artillery. Corpses burned.
We will all die.
The visions flashed before her: humanity's warriors fallen, the survivors enslaved.
I will not live as a slave.
She struggled to rise.
The scorpion lashed its tail, knocking her back down. She lay on her back, head ringing, chest aching, no air reaching her lungs. Abyzou lifted the boulder, then slammed it down onto her arm.
Her armor shattered.
Her bone—only recently broken while battling Marino—snapped again.
She screamed.
She tried to rise. The boulder pinned her down. She lay, dizzy with pain, close to passing out.
Abyzou nodded. He leaned over her, towering in his mecha suit, a scorpion above an ant.
"Poor ape," he hissed. "So weak. So frail. Bones so fragile."
He reached down. With his mechanical claws, he caressed her helmet. Ben-Ari howled and fired her gun with her free arm. Her bullets hit the glass shielding, unable to pierce it. They ricocheted back onto her. One bullet shattered her visor, nearly blinding her. Glass stung her face.
Abyzou laughed. "Still you fight. Even now, your army crumbling, your body broken, your father dying in a puddle of blood. Even now you resist." He grabbed her rifle with his metal claws, then tossed it away. "You would have made a good goddess. Instead you will make a marvelous slave."
She struggled to speak. "I . . . will never . . . serve you."
Inside his suit, Abyzou sneered. He swung open the front of the mecha, then climbed out of the massive metal scorpion. Even outside his machine, he was still imposing, over seven feet tall. He was a wretched creature, his skin burnt and peeling, half his face shattered. Only several hearts still beat on his chain; the rest had burned away. Yet despite his injuries, he seemed to feel no pain, no weakness. He reached down, wrenched off her helmet, and grabbed her head.
She was too weak to fight him. The boulder still pinned her down. Beneath it, her arm was crushed, useless. Abyzou leaned down closer until his face was only centimeters away. His drool dripped onto her face, sizzling hot. His nostrils flared as if he were savoring her scent.
"I will show you," he hissed, and his grip tightened on her head.
His black eyes bored into her.
And she screamed.
Inside his eyes, she saw it. The homeworld of these creatures. Their dark city and their goddess upon her throne. Millions of gray troops were mustering there. Countless saucers filled the sky above them, spreading beyond the horizon.
"Now you see," Abyzou hissed. "We have sent only a drop from our might against you. The bulk of our fleet still awaits. You have seen but the first and smallest wave of our invasion. And your fleet is gone! Your army is crumbling! You cannot resist us. You can only serve us."
Every word was agony, rasping at Ben-Ari's throat. "I . . . would rather . . . die."
He leaned down and licked her cheek. He laughed. "My mother will not let you die, Einav. Not for many thousands of years. Not until you are a broken, miserable shadow of life, too mad to even beg for death. We have ways of extending your life . . . and making it so, so painful. I will take you to Mother now." He cackled. "First I will free you from this rock."
He straightened and drew an ugly curved blade.
"No!" Ben-Ari cried.
The blade swung down and severed her trapped arm.
She screamed.
Her blood spurted.
She was free from the boulder, but the agony was too great. She could not rise. Only scream.
Abyzou placed a foot on her chest, pinning her down, as if she had the strength to rise. He drew a device from his belt. Her eyes widened when she recognized it.
A blowtorch.
He ignited it. And he sprayed its flame against her stump, cauterizing the wound.
She screamed. She passed out. She woke and screamed again.
Abyzou grabbed her with both hands. His hands were so large. They engulfed her. He lifted her, and her feet dangled. She hung in his grip like a rag doll. His hideous, broken face grinned before her.
"And now, Einav, it's time to meet Mother."
Her eyes were rolling back. Her life was fadi
ng away. Her rifle lay across the hill. She had no more grenades. No more weapons. After surviving so much, to end here, in such a defeat . . .
I'll never see my friends again, she thought. I'll never see Marco and Addy and Lailani. Never see my dear professor.
As her consciousness was slipping again, she thought of him. Her dear, kind professor. The hours she had spent in his study. With a man who was not a warrior. A man who was kind. A teacher. A friend. Somebody who could become a soul mate.
I miss your books. Your lessons. Your science. I miss you.
The professor smiled in her vision. He nodded.
You know what to do, he said.
She shook her head. You told me I could not. Not here. Not on Earth.
He stared at her steadily. You must.
She wept. It's too dangerous.
War is dangerous, the professor said in her vision. You can do this. I believe in you, Einav. I love you.
Tears in her eyes, she reached to her side. She hit a button on her armored suit, and a compartment opened on her thigh, used for storing ammo. Inside she still carried it: the wormhole generator.
The disk was gone. She held the heart of the device: a metal component, the size and shape of a heart. Inside it—an azoth crystal.
She had not wanted to use it. She had taken it only for the most dire of emergencies. A doomsday weapon. An azoth crystal bent spacetime itself, the fabric of the universe. It was used only in space, far from any world. And this wormhole generator didn't merely bend spacetime; it ruptured it, tearing a pin-sized hole through it.
If she opened a wormhole here on Earth, it was likely to split the planet in two.
It was a weapon more dangerous than a hydrogen bomb. A weapon that could destroy Earth.
"What is that?" Abyzou hissed. "What are you holding, ape?"
Hanging in his grip, she gazed into his eyes. "It is doomsday," she whispered. "A day for death. Or a day for victory. Einstein once said that God does not play dice with the universe." She smiled shakily. "I do."
Earth Honor (Earthrise Book 8) Page 25
