He fired again. Again. But the bullets kept sparking against the invisible shield. The cardinal kept his hands outstretched as if holding back the assault with sheer willpower.
"He's a goddamn sorcerer!" a soldier shouted.
"Leave the prisoners alone!" somebody else cried.
The cardinal cackled. His tongue flicked like a serpent. "Three."
More voices rang out from the wall.
"The prisoners!"
"Wait!"
"Two," said the cardinal.
The Bahayan captors gripped their Earthling prisoners by the hair. Their curved blades gleamed, sickles ready for harvest.
The colonel shouted into his megaphone, "Cardinal, stop this! Come into my fort, and we'll negotiate, and—"
"One."
The Bahayan soldiers lashed their blades.
The prisoners' headless corpses collapsed onto the dirt.
The Bahayans held aloft scores of severed heads.
Earthlings on the wall cried out in horror.
"Bastards!
"You fucking slits!"
"Murderers!"
More bullets rang out, only to bounce harmlessly off the force field.
Finally the Earthlings held their fire. They stared down at the enemy.
The Red Cardinal stared back, a thin smile on his face.
"Do not say that I am merciless. You may keep their heads."
He raised his arms high. The severed heads levitated.
The cardinal thrust his arms forward as if tossing a baseball with each hand.
The heads flew toward the fort. They flew right through the force field.
One head thumped onto Jon's chest. He cried out and nearly fell from the wall. The head dropped to his feet and rolled along the wooden walkway. Alanna's head. Other heads hit soldiers around him. A few tumbled into the camp's courtyard, and soldiers below cried out in dismay.
Jon clutched his rifle, trembling. His lips peeled back in a snarl.
From the poisoned land below, the cardinal looked up at Jon. He made eye contact.
The memories flooded Jon. Battling the cardinal in Basilica Cathedral. Seeing the wretched sorcerer take Paul's form. Seeing him suck Carter's blood, leaving a shriveled husk.
I'm going to kill you, you son of a bitch, Jon vowed.
The cardinal gave Jon a small smile and nod.
And then the Luminous Army unleashed all its fury.
Chapter Three
The Last Bargirl
Maria took slow steps. Every step felt like a mile. Like a war.
There they rose before her.
The walls of Little Earth.
Maria halted. She looked away, wincing. Her fear itself felt like an impenetrable wall, holding her back.
She had to step behind a palm tree, to catch her breath, to steady her shaking hands. She peered between the fronds.
Little Earth was the grandest neighborhood in Mindao. This city, capital of South Bahay, was a sprawling hive of poverty, despair, and crime. But Little Earth was different. Attached to the city, it was like a gleaming, golden prosthetic snapped onto a withering, diseased stump. Its outer walls were not rotting plywood, not rusty corrugated steel, not even stained concrete. They were shimmering white walls, perfectly smooth and freshly painted, soaring so high nobody could see above them. They looked to Maria like the walls of Heaven.
A shiver ran through her. She cowered behind the palm tree. A few plywood huts rose around her. Children scampered between the shanties, playing with stray cats and dogs. A rooster crowed on the rusty tin roof. An old man pushed a cart, hawking halo halo, a Bahayan treat of purple taro potatoes, sweet beans, and syrup served over crushed ice. Everything was familiar here, comforting Maria. And just a few meters away—an alien world. A piece of Earth here on Bahay.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out Crisanto, her best friend.
The alien rested on her palm. He was as small and light as dandelion fluff. He glowed soft white, appearing to the world like a mote of moonlight. But when Maria squinted, she could see his true form—a delicate creature with a tiny torso, barely larger than a pea, that stretched out a ball of delicate limbs as narrow as strands of hair.
He was a Santelmo. One of the aliens who was helping North Bahay and the Red Cardinal. Well, not Crisanto personally. Crisanto was just a baby, just her pet, not some warrior of the Luminous Army. But if any Earthling caught her with a Santelmo, they would execute her. Maria was sure of it.
Today she took the risk. Today she pulled him from her pocket, even out in the open. She needed her friend.
"Crisanto, I'm scared," she whispered. "I must enter Little Earth. The lion's den."
He bobbed on her palm. His glow dimmed and brightened again and again. A warning?
"I must," Maria said. "I'm used to Earthling soldiers. I would entertain them when I was a bargirl. That's how I met Jon, after all. But those had all been young enlisted soldiers. Just the grunts, out for a beer, bad karaoke, and a local girl to comfort them for a night. But in Little Earth…" She shuddered. "That's where the generals live. That is the beating heart of Earth's might on Bahay. So that's where I must go. That's where I must strike!"
Crisanto levitated off her palm. He flitted toward the shantytown like a dragonfly, fleeing those gleaming white walls. He paused, floated a short distance back toward her, then toward the huts again. Beckoning.
Come with me! he seemed to say. Back into the city!
But Maria called him back, and reluctantly Crisanto returned to her palm.
"Crisanto, for months, I moved through the city of Mindao, collecting stories. I spoke to refugees in the slums, scarred and traumatized by war. I spoke to orphans. To grieving parents. To people poisoned and burned. I spoke to bargirls along the Blue Boulevard, once the daughters of farmers and fishermen, forced to sell their bodies to Earth's soldiers. Some were as young as six. I recorded them all, Crisanto. Stories of the evil that Earth's soldiers do here. Stories that the people on Earth have never heard. I shared these stories with Earth. And I made a difference."
Tears flowed down her cheeks. She remembered what David had told her. Her dear friend, sweet David who had endured torture, who had returned to Bahay to speak to her. To tell her that across Earth, people were listening to the cry of Bahay. People were weeping for the pain of her people. All her suffering—it was heard.
Bahay finally had a voice.
Crisanto floated to her cheeks and dried her tears. His body was soft and warm like a cotton ball. It tickled her. Perhaps he was tickling her on purpose. He was, after all, only a few decades old, a baby among his race, and playful. Maria couldn't help but laugh, but she quickly grew somber again.
"Crisanto, what I've been doing is important," she said. "But it's not enough. I've swayed many minds on Earth. But most Earthlings still support the war, still plan to reelect President Hale. Crisanto, if Hale wins the upcoming election… he will destroy Bahay. He's already killed millions of us. He won't stop until we're all dead. We must do more! We must make sure Hale loses."
Crisanto swiveled as if tilting his head. How?
Maria took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how. But one thing I know. Tales of weeping Bahayan orphans, of murderous Earthling soldiers—those will only sway some people. Not enough to end the war. But there beyond those white walls, there in Little Earth—that's where the generals live. From there General Ward himself, commander of all Earthling forces on Bahay, leads the war. We must get in there and find information that can hurt Earth. That can disgrace its general. Not just stories of rogue grunts but of corrupt generals. Such information would hit Earth like a bomb. It would shame the president—and make sure he loses the election. It's the only way to save Bahay, Crisanto. If we fail, if we cannot dig up dirt on the generals—Bahay will burn."
Crisanto dimmed, going nearly dark. He shivered on her palm.
She placed him back in her pocket, hiding him. She would have to hide him particularly well in the lions'
den.
I walked through fire, and I pulled a blade off my father's corpse, she thought. I fought in the Kalayaan, and I killed giants from Earth. I faced the military police and Ernesto's wrath, and I survived them. I can do this. I will do this. For Bahay.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and left the shelter of the palm trees and shanties. She approached the white walls of Little Earth.
* * * * *
A towering gateway broke the white walls. Its steel doors were closed. A handful of Earthling soldiers stood guard here. Several watched from the guard towers that flanked the gateway, while one Earthling manned the doors.
The guards wore pressed white uniforms, different from the blue battlesuits Maria was familiar with. In the clubs along the Blue Boulevard, Earthling grunts wore dusty, dented armor, sometimes charred, sometimes bloodstained. Maria remembered cuddling against Jon, feeling the cold armored plates, then removing them one by one like scabs, revealing the warm skin beneath. But these guards wore uniforms as fine as tuxedos, brimming with polished buttons and pins. She had never seen anyone wear clothes as fancy. They looked like princes from picture books. These soldiers looked readier for a banquet than a battle.
Yet their rifles, held in gloved hands, seemed serious enough. For all Maria knew, their bullets were gilded, yet they could kill her just as easily.
As she approached, Maria felt very plain. She wore the white dress the Magic Man had given her at the Go Go Cowgirl club. Her pimp had dressed her in angelic white, auctioning her virginity to the highest bidder. The dress had once been so beautiful, but now it was tattered, stained, and charred. Her feet were bare and filthy. Her hair was bedraggled. Living for months in the shantytown did not improve one's appearance—nor smell. She had washed herself as best she could, but even the rivers that crisscrossed Mindao were filled with trash.
Somehow, despite her shabby state, she would have to rely on her feminine graces today. She did not think herself beautiful. Her skin was too dark, the color of a commoner. Everyone said that only Bahayan girls with pale skin, perhaps mixed with Earth blood, were beautiful. There was a reason that skin whitening creams were all the rage in New Manila, Bahay's most affluent neighborhood. And she was too short, only five feet tall. It was above average for a Bahayan, but short compared to Earthling women. Her breasts were too small, her hips too narrow. Only eighteen, uneducated and barely literate, she had no wisdom nor class.
Overall, she was hardly a prize.
Yet somehow, despite all her flaws, Earthlings seemed to like her. At least judging by how much they catcalled whenever she walked along the Blue Boulevard.
As she approached the gate, the Earthlings weren't shooting her. Yet. That was a good sign.
Still got it, she thought.
"Halt!" cried a guard, the one who manned the doors. His body stiffened, and his chin shot up. He seemed very young, probably no older than Maria. His friends watched from the guard towers. They seemed older and quite bored. One was chewing cashews. Another quickly hide a dirty magazine behind his back.
Maria halted. She smiled at the young soldier at the doors. Hopefully a sweet smile. She tried.
"Good morning, Private! My name is Maria de la Cruz." She curtsied. "I come looking for employment in Little Earth."
The young guard cocked his rifle. His hands were shaking. It took several attempts before a bullet clicked into the chamber. "Step no closer!"
Maria just smiled again, hiding her fear. "Are you new on Bahay? I know, it's a scary planet. But I promise you. I don't bite."
The young soldier gripped his rifle so tightly his knuckles turned white. "We're not supposed to let anyone approach. I must order you to step back! If you don't, I'll have to point my gun at you! Or do I point my gun first, and then order you to step back? Maybe… wait, do I fire into the air first? Dammit. I studied this. What's the protocol again?"
He glanced nervously toward the guard towers, where the older guards were watching.
"Oh for God's sake, Jayden," a corporal said from the tower. "Calm your tits. She's just a hungry bargirl looking for money. Toss her a few pesos, bang her in the supply shed, and she'll bugger off."
Maria looked up at the guard tower. "Is that what you read about in your dirty magazines? Does your officer know?"
The guard in the tower blushed. He hid the magazine more carefully behind his back. "Um… you're a dirty magazine!"
His friend, who stood in the second tower, snorted. "Good comeback."
Maria sighed. She took a step closer to Jayden, the young private guarding the doors. His hands were still shaking. She smiled at him softly.
"I'm just here to look for work," she said. "Can you let me in, Jayden? Please?"
The private squinted at her, then gasped. "Hey, I know you! You're that dancer! The one from the Go Go Cowgirl! I saw you on stage that night. You were wearing the same dress."
Maria lost her smile. She would never forget that night. The night of her eighteenth birthday.
She had been new in Mindao, this dizzying city of crumbling concrete and neon lights. Just another refugee girl from the provinces, her parents dead, her village destroyed. The Magic Man had dressed her in white, shoved her onto the stage, and auctioned her to lustful troops—the very men who had slaughtered her family. The cruel Clay Hagen had bought her, the Butcher of Santa Rosa himself.
You saved me that night, Jon, Maria thought. You protected me from Clay, and we fell in love. I miss you.
She wiped a tear away. "Yes, that was me."
"You were wonderful!" the private whispered. "I was too shy to bid. On you or any other girl. I just drank a beer in the corner, but… I remember you." His cheeks flushed. "You were so beautiful that night."
Ah, so here's my way in, Maria thought. The boy is in love with me. I cannot fight these big, strong Earthlings with weapons. But I can fight with whatever charm they think I have. That's how we bargirls fight.
"You're sweet, Jayden." Maria touched his arm. "Maybe someday you'd like to visit the Go Go Cowgirl again, and we can have a drink?"
The soldier gulped. "Um, is… Charlie Wonder still there? The cowgirl with the chin-length hair? Who wore the high heels and red lingerie?" He lowered his rifle, hiding his crotch. "She's very pretty."
Maria couldn't help but laugh.
So it's not me he wants. It's Charlie!
But her laughter quickly died on her lips. Her best friend, Dalisay "Charlie" Cortez, was in an Earthling prison. So were Pippi, Kim, Joyce, and the rest of the Bargirl Bureau. Maria had lost her army. Her foot soldiers had fought not with guns, but with smiles and caresses, with push-up bras and curved hips, with a burning desire to end this war. In the alleyways and bars of Mindao, they had coaxed out stories of horror, of bloodshed, of genocide, and leaked them to Earth.
Now the bargirls languished behind bars. Only Maria remained. So now, the last bargirl, she must fight the final battle alone.
"If you let me into Little Earth," she told the private, "I can introduce you to Charlie."
Just a little white lie. For Bahay.
Jayden dried sweat off his brow. "Can she wear the same high heels and red lingerie?"
Maria didn't like pimping her friend, but right now, she would say anything. "I'm sure she can."
Jayden glanced up at the guard tower, seeking approval from the older guards.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" said the corporal above. He was reading his dirty magazine again. "Let her in. She's hot. All the slits who work in the kitchen are old ladies. I wouldn't mind a sweet young thing serving my beers."
Jayden gulped. He looked back at Maria. "Okay. But don't forget our deal."
He pulled opened the heavy doors of Little Earth, and Maria stepped into paradise.
Chapter Four
Assault on Apollo
The Luminous Army unleashed its wrath.
The balisongs shot searing white lasers. The mechas fired the rocket launchers on their shoulders. The blimps extend
ed cannons and blasted forth shells. The infantry opened up with roaring bullets.
All around Jon, the walls of Fort Apollo exploded.
The wooden palisades tore apart like toothpicks. The barbed wire lining the walls ripped apart, scattering metal spikes every which way. Soldiers fell with the crumbling heaps of wood and metal.
Jon screamed as the wall below him collapsed.
"George, jump with me!" he shouted.
He leaped into the air, soaring off the toppling wall. George jumped too—twice his size and falling fast.
The giant thumped down with a boom, cracking the earth. Jon crashed down beside him, banging his ribs and elbow. He howled. Other soldiers landed around them, groaning, hitting the ground hard. If not for their armored battlesuits, the fall would have broken their bones.
A second later, the remains of the wall pummeled them.
Metal shards hailed down. Some were spikes from the barbed wire, others were shrapnel from shells. The barrage pounded Jon's back. He cried out in agony. His armored battlesuit took the brunt of the assault, saving his life. One shard struck his hand with incredible force. It was like an invisible hammer driving down a nail. The shard cracked Jon's armored glove, and his blood spurted. Beside him, shrapnel ripped an arm off a soldier.
Chunks of the wooden palisade followed, slamming down like the spears of gods hurled from the heavens. A wooden spike drove into the ground beside Jon, missing him by mere inches. Nearby, a spike drilled through a soldier's back, carving through armor and bone and flesh, pinning the poor man to the ground.
For a moment, the sound of explosions died.
The soldiers lay on the ground. Some moaning. Others screaming. Others dead.
Jon tried to rise. The shrapnel pinned his hand down like a nail to a cross.
A rumbling rose in the sky. Missiles whistled.
Screaming, Jon pulled the shard from his hand and freed himself.
Explosions bloomed around him.
"George!"
Earthling's War (Soldiers of Earthrise Book 3) Page 3
