Music for this chapter: "Purcell Snatcher" John Debney (link on my profile page) Thanks for reading!
Four new guests sauntered out into the Grand Ballroom. They were resplendent in sequined gowns of purple and violet, glittering under the crystal chandeliers, flower-adorned hair flowing over their shoulders, save the strawberry-blond guest who kept hers short. The auburned-haired one, for some reason, looked green in the face as if fighting back nausea. The blonde in front held a purple domino mask in front of her eyes; the mask was festooned with an ostrich feather.
The four moved into the crowd, which was swaying to chamber music. Babydoll had heard somewhere, probably from the Wise Man, that the Ruler like to compose music and kept a grand piano in his private quarters.
A man in a tuxedo appeared beside Babydoll. "Pardon me, miss. Your friend here—is she sick?"
Sweet Pea glared at him. "Step a little closer and ask that."
"She's fine." Babydoll pushed past him.
"Honestly, Sweet Pea!" Rocket hissed. "I know you don't like to wear these, but still—"
"Girls, quiet!" Blondie herself wore a pink purple-trimmed strapless dress. Babydoll almost didn't recognize her without her goggles or leather tassels. Rocket appeared normal, more or less, from the neck up; from the neck down she was the Princess of France at Louis XVI's coronation, her own dress green and red with a satin gold sash draped shoulder to waist.
Another man, a young guy with slicked-back black hair, bowed to Babydoll. "May I have this dance?"
"Oh." She stopped and looked him over. "I guess so...but I'm just so scared about what's going to happen. So's my friend—see how green she is?"
"Baby!" Sweet Pea clenched her teeth.
The young man screwed up his face. "Why did she call you 'Baby?'"
"Nickname."
"Of course." He offered his arm. "May I?"
Babydoll smiled sweetly, handed her domino to Sweet Pea, and let the young man lead her by the hand onto the dance floor. She glanced back at Sweet Pea; her comrade was holding the mask between thumb and forefinger, grimacing at it, as it was something just dredged out of the sewer.
Blondie leaned close. "Sweet Pea, this is the only way we can find out." Rocket gingerly plucked the mask from between her sister's fingers.
"So." The young man took Babydoll by the hand and placed his other hand around her waist and the two danced. "Scared, you say?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Don't be. You're not alone, you know. Lots of citizens are shivering in their boots at what's about to happen. No need. They'll see," they swung around, and he swept her back—"that there's nothing at all for us to fear. The rest of Europe, of course, well—" he chuckled—"that's another story. And—" they swung around again—"would you like to know a secret?" He wore the mischievous grin of a schoolboy.
"If it'll help, yes."
Her suitor's face darkened. "No—my apologies—poor judgment on my part. I musn't tell anyone."
"It might make me feel better."
"I musn't. Please forget I said anything."
Damn it! Babydoll stuffed down her frustration. She stopped moving and took him by the shoulders. The other couples swayed and swung around them.
"I have other outfits," said Babydoll, "besides stiff formal gowns."
"Really." He studied his shoes.
She tipped up his chin. "Would you like to hear about my favorite? It's kind of like a sailor suit." Her voice dropped to a soft, sultry cant. "It's Navy blue, miniskirt, bare midriff and stockings...high heels..."
"Um." Sweat beaded on his brow, though it might have been all the combined body heat in the ballroom.
"I was just thinking," she purred, "maybe you'd like to see me in it."
"Miss!" He appeared horrified now. "Whatever are you...eh...you're really serious?"
"As serious as the end of the world."
He burst out laughing. "Oh, what the hell! Ha ha! All right, come closer. It's this. Only a few of us know it. The time," he whispered, "has been moved up."
"Really." Babydoll kept her face even.
"Yes!" He nodded. "He's launching them at sea! They're loading the missiles onto a submarine as we speak. Once that's done..."
"When?"
"Oh—" he turned and perused the giant Big Ben clock face at the head of the room. "Twenty minutes or so, if they're on schedule. And the Ruler always sees to it that everything runs on schedule—the trains, the streetlights at night—say? Miss?" For she was trying to squirm out of his embrace. "Miss!"
She head-butted him. He let go and staggered back. Babydoll marched away, the crowd parting and gazing curiously at her. She paid them no attention, retrieving her headset from the depths of her dress and held its mouthpiece to her rouged lips. "Amber! We've found out what's going on. He's launching them at sea. We have twenty minutes."
"On my way," Amber's tinny voice responded.
"Hey!" The young man caught up with Babydoll, grabbed for her arm. "Who are you? Guards!"
By now Babydoll had reached the others. She reached over her shoulder, down the back of her dress, and slashed out her katana.
"Wha—?" The man shrank back, blanching.
Babydoll turned back to her comrades. "Did you hear that?"
"Loud and clear." Rocket held her antique pistol at high ready.
"And I can finally take this thing off!" A ripping, a tearing, and Sweet Pea's dress lay in tatters around her. She stood in her leather corset and armor.
Running footsteps. Uniformed men in black riot gear, helmets and visors, scrambled into the ballroom. The guests all dropped on their stomachs, leaving the intruders exposed to an arsenal of aimed AK-47's.
Blondie put on her goggles, pulled them down over her eyes. "Five...four...three...two...one."
! CRASH !
A scream rose up from the guests. Plaster and dust rained down, like Samson caving in the roof on the Philistines, except that this Samson stood twenty feet tall, clad in armor and with titanic guns bolted to its forearms. And it wore the pink merry face of a bunny, smiling through the shower of white dust.
The riot squad guards staggered about, or fell and still.
Amber's voice sounded over Babydoll's headset. "All aboard, ladies!"
Rocket, Blondie and Sweet Pea were already running for the mech, jumping over prone guests and stunned guards. Babydoll brought up the rear. Each girl positioned herself on one of the mech's feet. All held on tight.
Shouts from outside—reinforcements.
Rocket had donned her headset. "We're all ready, Amber!"
The boosters blasted to life. The mech shot through the ragged hole it had made in the ceiling and headed for the skies, leaving a trail of thick gray smoke.
"I've got his estimated course on my computer," Amber said over Babydoll's headset. "We'll follow it all the way out to his ship. Hold on..."
The afterburners kicked in with a blast. The mech arced out over the ocean. In seconds the coast fell out of sight behind them. Only the vast ocean to the horizon, in every direction.
Babydoll clung tight, hair streaming behind her. Will we have time?