He had guessed wrong. Wrong!
The machine was watching him blankly, a painful reminder of how few his options had suddenly become. 2 was laying motionless by the wall, not a sound coming from him, and that made 9 cringe a little involuntarily. He needed to get the talisman away from this thing before it could leave, but if it could throw 2 with enough force to do physical damage...
He needed it distracted. This was their size... and 7 was in no condition to fight, despite the fury etched on her face. That poor baby needed her mother in one piece, and he wasn't about to run off and find 8 for help.
It was when the warrior shifted, trying to find the strength to get to her feet and fight, that the machine leaned and turned to look toward her, where 5 was trying to stay calm, ease the wailing of his newborn, and settle his mate all at once. That was exactly the opening 9 needed.
Throwing caution to the wind, 9 rushed forward to fling himself onto the creature's back, clawing an dkicking at shoulders and back, trying to get enough of a foothold to vault over and grab the talisman. The monster thrashed and bucked, an awful electric shriek rising from it as it tried to dislodge its unexpected attacker.
9 himself was entirely of what to do with himself now. Here he was, riding on the back of some awful, powerfully built machine that seemed to have the singular purpose of finding and taking the talisman for a reason he had not yet fathomed. He was still holding tight, trying his best to climb over the thing's shoulders despite its thrashing about, and was still in that precarious position when a series of very painful events began.
He did not feel the initial pierce of metal through his burlap, but the sharp, barbed scrape of those fish hooks against his internal frame sent pain like fire rushign through his limbs. The machine was jerking him up and over, even as he was desperatly scrambling to hold on. When it moved to slam him down onto the floor before it, he acted out of sheer, desperate will.
His hands went out, grabbing the talisman out of the beast's hands, grunting when he was slammed down hard against the floor. His head snapped back, and for a moment, spots danced in his vision. The beast was givnig another shriek, trying again for the talisman, but 9 held fast, copper fingers scraping against the small brass device. He didn't notice he had hit the markings in any particular sequence. All he was blankly aware of was a sudden burst of greenish light and a burning heat against his wooden palms.
For a moment, no one moved. The only sounds were 35's frantic wailing and 5's occasional whimper of fear. Even the beast had stopped, its attention focused on 9, but that odd red glow from its eyes had faded. It looked... bewildered. Its fingers slid from the talisman and it started to stand straight, looking around itself as if seeing everything for the first time.
And that's when its eyes fell on 5. The new father, despite his own terror, had his terrified daughter pulled in close to his chest, rubbing her back and gentling her as best he could. The machine took a step toward him.
9's mechanical heart sank into the pit of his stomach.
Its clawed hands were out, and the needle claw from its back was unfurling, all three appendages reaching for the distressed 5.
...no.
No, it wasn't reaching for 5.
It was reaching for the baby!
9 was still too stunned to move, and 5 – staring in shock at the monster that was suddenly coming right at him – seemed frozen to the spot. Though heavy footsteps were approaching, most likely 8, he would not get here in time to keep that monster from grabbing 35!
The next few moments would be burned into his mind's eye for the rest of his life. 7, with an awful, strained cry of rage, pulled strength from somewhere in the core of her body and shoved to her feet. Single-minded in her goal, she pulled 35 from 5's arms, stumbling out of the machine's way. Either ignoring or unaware of its slow, halted turn toward her, she sagged, reserves sapped, and sank down in the corner near 2. Body curled protectively around her baby, instinctively rocking her, she glared ice and daggers at 42.
"Stay away from my baby!" she shrieked, tense, almost trying to hide the wailing newborn against the fabric of her chest. She struck out fiercely with one foot when 42 got too close. "You... you... you monster!"
That caused the machine, which had taken a step back to avoid 7's lashing kicks, to stop in its tracks. "Your baby?" it questioned, words alarmingly clear, somehow more... natural. "Your... baby?" It looked long and hard at mother and child, as if that could somehow correct whatever confusion was in its head. "But... you are... machine..."
Fortuitously, the curtain brushed aside as it spoke and 8 thundered in. One look at the situation in front of him gave him the hint, and the huge stitchpunk, somewhat mellowed from having children of his own, grabbed 42 by the ring on its head, jerking it harshly off its feet with a nasty glare. When that needled claw sped toward him, he shifted, letting the barbs embed themselves harmlessly in the wall.
As the machine yelped and writhed, 9 staggered to his feet, blinking as 1 swept in moments after. His sons, 3 and 4 doing their best to corral them, were on his heels. "What is the meaning of this commotion?!" he demanded. "What has happened here?"
9 was still shaking too hard to respond, jaw working soundlessly as he fought to find words for the chaos that had exploded here, laying there on his back looking dazed.
Groaning a little, 2 shifted from where he lay near 7, trying to move despite his pain. It was the first sound he had made since he was thrashed, and it gave 9 some hope. The old doll was still with them. "That machine..." he managed, voice strained. "That machine... tried to take the talisman..."
5, who had finally found himself again, was finally moving to gently pull 7 to him, though the sound of 2's voice made him look over at his mentor, an expression torn between worry for his mate and worry for his father figure warring on his face. 7 had their baby clutched as close as she could, though 35 was still crying, tiny hands clenched against her mother's fabric chest, optics shut tightly. "2... 2, I'll be with you in a minute, I swear, just lay still. 7..."
"We're okay." 7 was not moving, resting her cheek against the top of 35's head, rocking gently. "Neither of us is hurt. Check on 2. We're okay here for the moment."
She had started to hum a lullaby, the soft vibrations and gentle melody coming from her chest causing little 35 to finally start to calm. Content in the fact that the monster was contained and his mate and newborn were at least safe, the mechanic moved to 2's side, starting to carefully examine the extent of his injuries.
"It was that... thing." 1's eyes were on 9 now as the doll found his voice at last. "It just... flung 2. I went to grab the talisman from it... I'm sure it planned on taking it back to the machines."
42, still struggling in 8's vice grip, made a surprisingly indignant sound. "Me?! Go back to the machines?! Hah! Not likely! I was trying to protect that poor infant from you lot!"
"This poor infant," 7 hissed, lightly stroking her daughter's small head, "is my daughter, and you won't lay a finger on her!"
The beast made a sound that could only be defined as indignant. "I would never harm a child! Why, the notion that a machine could have a child is preposterous anyway! What are you... strange... human-sized things, anyway?!"
That drew everyone's attention. 1 gave 42 a long, sharp look, even as it dangled from 8's grip. "Human-sized? Pah. Humans were giant. We are hardly so."
The room went deathly still at that, with 42 staring at 1 in obvious disbelief. The only sounds now came from 7's gentle humming, 35's finally settled cooing, and 2's weak groans of pain. He seemed to be coming around even more from his hit. "If you're not... then how am I...?"
It glanced down at its hands after that, and immediately, it gave a sharp, frightened gasp. It was as if it had never before seen the hands it had been given. 9 furrowed his brow, a thought somewhere between horrified and perplexed dawning on him. It... was no longer an it. It was somehow one of them now. It was a she, and apparently the soul of a very, very confused woman.
Maker, he couldn't believe he was saying this.
"8... put her down." When the large stitchpunk looked at him as though he'd sprouted a second head, 9 sighed. "She's not a threat now. I just... she's not."
1 gave him a skeptical look, shutters narrowing to slits in his lenses. "This... thing tried to steal the talisman, assaulted 2, and was trying to attack 7 and 5's infant... and yet you say it means no harm? Have you gone stark raving mad, 9?!"
9 weaved. What was his excuse? He could feel the eyes of the others on him in plain disbelief, but 42... her expression was almost hopeful. That was not a machine. Not anymore. "The talisman activated before, while I was wrestling with her for it. I saw a green flash. 5, you had to have seen it too."
Slowly, the mechanic nodded, lifting his head to look toward his friend. "I... I did see it, but..." He furrowed his brow. "But still... 9, look at 2!"
That caused 9 to tense up. 5 did have a very valid point. But then... it hadn't been the soul now in that body that had hurt 2, but the machine. "42..." He pointed toward 2, so that 8 could adjust and she could see. "Do you remember doing that?"
The other stitchpunk blinked, staring at 2's prone form. "I most certainly did not! I-..." She froze, trailing off. "Did I? I mean... you're all machines!"
"Not machines." That was growled from 8, who was glaring fiercely at 42 where she still hung in his grip, staring back as if surprised the brute could speak. "Machines are enemies."
With his mate leading in, the far more eloquent 1 gave a sharp nod. "Precisely. We have been living threatened by thos emonstrosities since the last poor, wretched human drew breath. We are the remnants of humanity... the soul of a desperate man, trying to preserve the memory of a dying race and ensure the continuation of life."
42's optics were pinpricks now. "...the scientist. You're referring to the scientist. The one who built the Machine! He's the only one who could have done this!" Her gaze shifted to where 7 was cu rled in the corner, listening as her gentle humming became the soft, affectionate words of song. "But... but that doesn't explain that child! Or me! I was leading the children to a bunker..."
Now it was 1's turn to stare, his attention caught by the strange machine's sudden panic. "...this is nto the place to discuss this. 8, bring her to the throne room. 9, you come as well... and see if you can drag 6 out of his alcove along the way. 3, 4... keep my sons here, with 5, 7, and 2. And 5? I expect to be kept informed of my brother's condition. Understood?"
"Of course."
With 5's agreement, 1 nodded and swept out, 8 on his heels. 9 watched 3 and 4 carefully herd the younger twins for a moment, then looked to 5, who was working to get 2 onto a spare work bench. "5... I'm so sorry."
5 didn't look up at him at first. 9 had moved to his side, helping him relocate 2, but the mechanic remained mostly silent. Finally, though, he smiled, glancing up at his friend. "Don't apologize for things out of your control, 9." He stood straight, moving to gather his mate and child. "Go on. We're okay here. 2's got a dislocated hip joint, but it's nothing too serious. The hit just dazed him. I can handle this."
The youngest of the first generation seemed reluctant to accept his friend's reassurance, though he did finally slip out, following q uietly after 1. 5 let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping, as soon as he was out of sight. "That was a mess."
"Seems to have worked out all right in the end," 2 commented, one hand coming up to rub his head. "Oh, I'll have a headache for this later... here now, son, leave me be. This old hip isn't going to kill me in the least and the others are fine. Go see your little girl."
5 furrowed his brow. "But 2..."
The old-timer cut him off with a weary laugh. "I'm not dying, 5, and the 42 issue is currently well in hand. We would know if the situation changed. You're a father now! Stop fussing and go see your child." Besides... didn't you have a little surprise if you had a little girl?"
For a moment, 5 just stared at him, the situation not quite processing in his head. Then he blinked, immediately rushing to a nearby work station. A handful of silky yellow fabric and a small hand-pounded needle later and he was at his mate's side, smiling. 7 gave him a tired, wry look. "You were hoping."
"Of course," he chuckled, gazing lovingly at the little bundle of canvas and burlap that was his daughter. He quietly, quickly, stitched the little slips of ribbon to her head. "I'd be an awful male role model for a son. There..." Smiling, he sat back to admire his work. "Ribbon pigtails. Oh, 7, she's as beautiful as you."
7 gave a weary smile, sinking back against a pillow that must have once been for a child's small doll. 35 was nestled snugly against her now, little body shifting as she slept, calmed from the earlier ordeal. "Our little girl," she whispered. "Our beautiful 35."
Of course, the moment of calm was short-lived. Up next to her bounced 18, 81 at his heels, having broken away from 3 and 4's watchful eyes. Both of the young boys were looking toward the newborn with varying levels of fascination until 81, expression brightening as he gazed up toward 7, spoke up. "Is that the new baby?" When 7 nodded, he turned back to 35, head cocked to one side. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"A girl," 7 responded gently. "Boys, meet 35."
Where 81 beamed, quite pleased with the prospect of a new child in the tower, 18 gave the infant a skeptical look. Had his nerves not been shot from everything that had happened, 5 would have laughed at how much the slip of a boy resembled 1. Finally, though, the taller brother gave 7 a long look and spoke. "So... can you trade her in for a boy?"
3 and 4 shared a mutual facepalm as 5 choked back a laugh. 2, still prone behind them, burst into laughter, occasionally letting out a yelp of pain from it, as 7 schooled an exasperated glance at the eldest of 1 and 8's twin boys. "18..."
The boy made a face. "What? Girls can't roughouse or nothin'. They're not tough like boys are." He paused, then, and stared at 7 as if just realizing what he had said. "Uh... 'course /you're/ tough, Miss 7..."
"And so's Miss 196," 81 offered helpfully, earning him a glare from his fraternal twin. "...m'just sayin'."
5 chuckled, p ushing to his feet. "3, 4, stay with 7 for a moment, okay?" The older twins were quick to oblige, rushing to 7's side to click at and catalogue the new addition with rapt attention. That seen to, the mechanic motioned the younger twins to come with him. "C'mon over here and let Miss 7 and the baby rest. You can help me fix your uncle 2's hip."
He didn't need to ask twice.
*****
6, as it stood, would not leave the alcove with 9 no matter how he coaxed him. He was vehement on staying there, insisting that for now, thigns were okay. 9 did not need to go to see 1. He should stay there, ni the alcove. He couldn't say why. It was just important.
But 9 refused. 1 wanted him there for the talk with 42. No matter how 6 pleaded, he could not give in. The little artist had been quite put out in the end, and had pouted furiously until 9 agreed to come to the alcove later when the talk was done.
The talk, of course, was little more than 1 asking the poor, confused new soul question after question after question. Who had she been. Where was she from. Her name. Her age. She answered as best she could. She couldn't recall her name, but she knew she had been a teacher. The last thing she remembered before waking in this body? Air raid sirens. Getting "her" children to safety in a bunker near the old clock tower. Her age? 30's, at best.
9 wasn't paying much attention anyway. 2 was going to be fine, su re, and 7 and the baby were safe. But guilt wracked his mind. Illogical, gnawing guilt. He needed to apologize to 196... she had been completely innocent. And 6... 6 had put so much trust in him! What a mess this was...
So lost was he in thought that he didn't notice 1's voice until the eldest loudly clearing static from his voicebox made him jump. He faced 1 with a sheepish expression as the old doll spoke. "As I was saying, 9... 42 will stay under my supervision until we are certain she can be trusted. You will assist her in learning our ways... but not today. There has been enough insanity and it's late."
He gave a light flick of his hand. This conversation, as far as 1 was concerned, was over. 9 cast a quiet glance at 42, who was gazing at her hands in quiet wonderment. The poor woman was so confused, and honestly, 9 couldn't blame her. He didn't need 6's gift of premonition to forsee a trip to the First Room coming soon, to see if they could find out how this had happened at all.
There was no backwards glance when he left 1's throne room, however. He simply allowed his feet to carry him to 6's alcove, where the artist was sitting on the floor,s taring into the waning sunlight filtered through the dirty window high overhead. "6?" he questioned, curious as to what the prophet was seeing. "You okay?"
"You're so tense." 6's words were barely a whisper. "Sit. Relax." 9 opened his mouth to protest, but 6 continued talking, cutting him off. "You did good."
9's expression grew sour as he plunked down on the edge of 6's bed, which was little more than an old match box with thick cotton batting and fabric for sheets and blankets. "I guessed wrong, 6. I accused 196 of being the machine, and 2 got hurt because of it." His brow furrowed as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. "Everyone keeps saying it wasn't my fault, but..."
He trailed off when he heard 6 stand, surprised when he felt the smaller stitchpunk's arms go around him, gently cradling him close. "She's not empty anymore," he murmured. "Had you chosen the correct option first, then we never would have learned."
The tone of the troubled prophet was, in 9's mind, surprisingly serene. This... this felt safe. Some of 6's unusual calm almost seemed to be bleeding into him, causing the tension to seep right out of his frame. "6..."
"Just rest," 6 interrupted. "Trouble before, but we're safe now. I see clearly and you're here. Safe. Trouble sometime... later, maybe, it's not clear right now. But here... here is safe."
So 9 relaxed, and for a long while, he just let 6 hold him, listening to the soft click and whir of gears inside the little striped body. He wanted to ask why 6 had been afraid of 196... what he meant by havnig "learned." But he was reluctant to let go. After a bit, however, he started to draw back, despite what his soul kept telling him. 6, however, immediately tightened his grip, and when he spoke, it was with a touch of fear. "9, please don't go."
"6, I need to go back to my room. It's been a rough day and I'm really tired." He squirmed, trying to dislodge the artist as much as he was trying to convince himself that he really did want to go. "6..."
The artist shook his head. "You won't sleep. I won't either. Trust me. I know. Please, 9, don't go." His voice was almost pained. "I feel safe. You're here. I'm safe. Please don't leave."
9 froze in his tracks, staring quietly down at the top of 6's head. Truth be told, his original reason for wanting to leave was because he felt he had let 6 down. He thought the prophet's presence would have been a constant reminder of that, but he felt safer here in 6's firm embrace than he had in a very long time. "...all right, 6." He smiled, lightly teasing the mess of yarn atop the soothsayer's head. "You win. I'll stay the night."
There was a look of pure, unbridled joy from 6 at 9's comment, and the younger of the pair couldn't help but laugh when he was pulled down into a rather enthusiastic cuddle. He was warm, safe, content... it was enough to, for the time, make him forget about the feeling of dread sinking into the pit of his abdomen from 6's earlier comment. 6 said things were fine right now, and they were safe. Why shouldn't he believe him?
He was very nearly lost in his rest cycle when he heard 6 murmur his name. The artist had wormed up until they were optic-to-mismatched-optic, watching 9 quietly and carefully. 9 hazarded a tired smile. "What's the matter, 6?"
"Can I ask you a question? It's important. Means a lot."
"Well, sure. What is it?"
6 fell quiet for a long moment after that, as if debating what he wanted to say. When the words finally did come, they were so soft that they were very nearly lost in the stillness. "Can I keep you?"
9 blinked, staring quietly. He had not been expecting that. 6 looked so earnest, so sincere... and he realized right away, as that hopeful look began to fade, that his silence was speaking far more than he had anticipated. 6, looking resigned to rejection, was pulling away.
Caution to the wind, 9 reminded himself. Now or never. Do or die. He cared about 6... far, far more than he had originally intended or expected. He needed... wanted... to show him that. Hands freed, he used them to cup 6's face, smiling as he murmured, "Yes. You can."
And if they didn't get much sleep that night, neither one complained.
To Be Continued
