Earthling's War (Soldiers of Earthrise Book 3)

by Daniel Arenson

  The shuttles were beautiful, each one crafted like a sculpture. And each was different. One shuttle was graceful and curvy like a woman, her white hull filigreed with gold. Her figurehead was shaped like a mermaid, one arm raised, pointing to the stars. Maria ran her hand along the hull, caressing those curves. Another shuttle was covered with gears, pipes, and crystals. It was a strange machine of brass and tin, perhaps an antique. A third shuttle was black and commanding, a vessel like a panther prowling the forest, and indeed a silver panther leaped from her prow. Maria was almost scared to touch it.

  The general walked beside her as she explored the shuttles. "I have no children of my own, Maria. These are my children."

  "They're beautiful," she said. "They sure beat rickshaws."

  He smiled thinly. "Which is your favorite?"

  She reached one shuttle in the shade of an oak. Its hull was shaped like a spiral, glimmering white and silver. She stroked it. It felt like stroking a seashell. The cockpit flowed out from the shell like a peeking hermit crab.

  "This one is my favorite," Maria said.

  "Ah!" the general said. "An interesting choice. This is the only shuttle here that is not human-made. This is a Menorian shuttle."

  Maria ran her hand along the spiral hull. "Are those aliens?"

  "Indeed they are. The Menorians are allies of Earth. They dwell in an ocean world many light-years away. They're an aquatic species, living in vast underwater cities. I've been to one of their cities, years ago. I saw crystal towers that rise in the ocean, glimmering among schools of fish. I saw palaces that rival any of Earth's wonders."

  "And I've never even left Bahay," Maria said. "Hell, I've never even left this one island on Bahay. I've seen a few aliens in Mindao. Outcasts and outlaws. They're pretty rare. I saw one recently that looked like a potato." She smiled at the memory of the jewelry shop guard. "I'm not sure I've ever seen a Menorian, though. What do Menorians look like? Do they have spiral shells like this shuttle?"

  "Actually, no," the general said. "The Menorians had shells long ago, in a different geological era, back when they were a humbler species. In those days, many predators preyed upon them. Today the Menorians are a proud, intergalactic species, mollusks who no longer need a protective shell. But some of the old ways remain. They still climb onto islands to lay eggs—a relic from their ancient past when ocean predators preyed upon their young. And they still shape their homes, their furniture, and even their shuttles like spiraling shells. The same shells their ancestors grew." The general passed his hand over the shuttle. "Each shell is a perfect Fibonacci spiral, down to the last millimeter. Astounding precision. And they build these shuttles using only ancient tools, no modern computers."

  "What do they look like without shells?" Maria said, thinking back to a sea slug she had once seen on the beach.

  "They look a little like Earth's octopuses," the general said. "Interestingly, they have no mouths. They ingest food through filters in their tentacles."

  "No mouths!" Maria's own mouth hung open. "So how do they speak?"

  "They have no spoken language. Instead they communicate by changing colors. Their skin can take on thousands of different hues and patterns. They've developed colors into an entire language. They even have a written language. Instead of writing letters, they paint colors on stones and shells. Every sentence they write is a painting."

  The starship's coiling hull, Maria noticed, glimmered in different colors depending on how the light caught it. "How wonderful! And can this shuttle really fly? Or is it just for display?"

  "The original controls were built for seven arms," the general said. "But I've ripped out the original dashboard, replacing it with a human-friendly interface. Would you like to go on a flight?"

  Maria couldn't help but smile. She was here undercover. Here on a mission. But now she felt as giddy as a girl.

  To actually fly into space!

  She nodded wordlessly.

  They entered the alien shuttle alone. No security guards. No staff. They settled down in the cockpit, which the general had fitted with human seats.

  The general fired up the engines. Maria sat beside him, nervous birds fluttering through her belly. She had never been to space. Hell, for all she knew, no Bahayan since the first colonists ever had.

  "Ready?" The general looked at her, mischief in his eyes.

  She nodded. "Show me the stars."

  He shoved down a lever, and the shuttle rose.

  This was nothing like a helicopter ride.

  It was worse. Far, far worse.

  The shuttle soared so fast it shoved Maria into her seat. She gasped for air, could barely breathe. It felt like being suffocated again. The engines roared. They were streaking upward. Fast. So fast. An invisible pressure was crushing her. She tried to look out the porthole, maybe to see the city from above. She couldn't even move her head.

  The shuttle was roaring upward in a straight line, riding on a jet of fire. Through the windshield she saw swirling clouds, flashes of lightning, and a few other shuttles rising and falling, leaving trails of light.

  And then they tore through the clouds and burst into space.

  The weight lifted. The shuttle steadied. And she could breathe again.

  And there it was. All around her. Space.

  She looked, and tears flowed down her cheeks.

  "It's beautiful," she whispered, tasting her salty tears.

  She had seen the stars and moons from the surface before. But never this bright, never this close. The twin moons hovered outside—she felt like she could reach out and grasp them. The Milky Way's spiraling arm spread across the heavens, a luminous path. And the stars—more stars than she had ever seen shone all around her.

  "It really is splendid," the general said. "I've flown among the stars countless times. And every time it takes my breath away."

  "Can you show me Bahay from here?" She leaned toward the porthole. "It must be directly below us."

  The general nudged the yoke, and the shuttle spun around.

  And there it was. Bahay.

  Her planet. They flew just far enough to see the entire globe.

  "It's so… empty," Maria said. "It's mostly water."

  The general nodded. "Bahay is an ocean world. Ninety-nine percent water. A few islands, that's all."

  She leaned against the window and gasped. "That blob of light there! On the biggest island! That's Mindao, isn't it?" She exhaled slowly. "We were just there moments ago. Now we're so far away."

  He nodded. "That is Mindao. A little sea of light on a dark empty world. That is like humanity, Maria. Just a little blob of light in the vast darkness."

  "Even Earth?" she asked.

  "Earth might seem mighty next to Bahay, but Earth is just a small world, a fledgling empire. Would you like to see it?"

  She laughed. "Are you going to take me to Earth tonight? I might be just a simple Bahayan girl. But I know that there's a big difference between flying a few hundred kilometers above Bahay and flying three hundred light-years away."

  "I don't need to take you all the way." He turned the shuttle around. "See there? That constellation that looks like a wagon wheel?"

  She nodded. "We call it the milk bowl constellation on Bahay."

  "Look at the leftmost star. Then a little bit up and to the right. See a faint little light? You can't see it from Bahay's surface. But it's visible from here above the atmosphere."

  She nodded. "Yes, that little yellow star."

  "That's Sol," Ward said. "That's Earth's sun. I lied. You can't see Earth herself from here. But you can see her star, and to me, she is the most beautiful star in the sky."

  "She's your Maria," she said. "She is one among a million. She is what you crave, what you can touch, control, tame, but never fully own. She is the last rose of summer."

  The general looked at her. "Would you like to fly the shuttle?"

  Maria blinked at him. "Would you like to die in a flaming wreck? Because if you let me fly, t
hat's what's gonna happen."

  "Space is the safest place to travel. There's nothing to crash into."

  Maria pointed. "Aside from a giant planet."

  "Try it. It's no harder than riding a bike."

  "I've never ridden a bike!"

  He took her hand and placed it on the yoke. "Here. Fly."

  She nudged the yoke left. And suddenly the shuttle was spinning madly. Bahay rolled around them. Maria sucked in breath, nudged the yoke to the right, and their spin slowed. Slowly, she gained control and steadied the craft.

  "Down on the surface, a vehicle has only four directions to go," the general said. "Forward, back, left, and right. Here in space, you have twice as many directions. Forward. Back. Pitch up. Pitch down. Roll left. Roll right. Yaw left. Yaw right. You'll need to grab this shaft too, and learn these buttons."

  Maria nodded. The controls seemed overwhelming, but if the general could fly this shuttle, she would learn too. "Teach me."

  He showed her, and she experimented. Soon she learned the difference between pitching, rolling, and yawing. She learned how to control the thruster. And soon she was flying. She was actually flying!

  "It's wonderful," she whispered.

  The general spoke softly, reciting a poem.

  Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

  And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

  Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

  of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things

  You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung

  High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,

  I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

  My eager craft through footless halls of air....

  Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

  I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.

  Where never lark, or even eagle flew —

  And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod

  The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

  – Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

  Maria looked at him. "That's lovely."

  "I wish those words were my own," said the general. "They are by John Gillespie Magee Jr. A pilot in the Second World War. He died at age nineteen. No older than you."

  Maria increased the thrust, just a bit, and glided forward, orbiting her planet. Yes, Bahay seemed small from here. And yet simultaneously, Maria realized how large the planet truly was. All her life, she had lived in a small part of a single island. Now she could see vast oceans, countless other islands, and icy poles.

  Even from up here, she could see the war.

  Smoke rose from a thousand fires. Gray patches spread where once forests had grown. She could see no troops. No humans. No borders. Just ruin. From up here, the wars of men seemed so petty, so pointless, their destruction so wanton and wasteful.

  And then, as the shuttle flew over the horizon, she saw nothing but ocean. An entire hemisphere of blue water and white clouds, as beautiful and pristine as a summer dawn.

  "Bahay, our homeworld," she whispered. "Our pale blue marble."

  Something caught her eye.

  She stared ahead into space.

  She gasped and nearly sent the shuttle plunging into fiery death.

  Starships flew ahead! A hundred or more!

  Some were small, perhaps only shuttles or starfighters, barely larger than jeepneys. Other starships were gargantuan. They were motherships, as large as skyscrapers.

  "Thousands of soldiers must live inside those starships," she whispered. "They're the size of my apartment building in Mindao."

  She had never seen technology so grand. Machines this size that could fly among the stars! What chance did Bahay have fighting these gods?

  And beyond the starships…

  "A space station!" Maria's eyes widened. "I didn't even know there was a space station above Bahay. You can't see it from the surface."

  She was sounding naive. Innocent. Maybe even stupid. The general laughed and patted her. Perhaps he found it charming. It was no act. Maria stared with true awe.

  The space station was shaped like a spinning top. A wide disk formed the bulk of the station, shining with a thousand windows. It reminded Maria of a mushroom's cap. A transparent bulb topped the upper surface, and Maria could see people inside, moving back and forth, so small. Below the disk, a stem stretched downward, pointing at the planet.

  This space station was the size of a city. A marvel of technology. The most incredible machine Maria had ever seen.

  She lowered her head.

  So much money, so much ambition—all to kill us, she thought. Such wonders of technology—shining above mountains of dead.

  The general stared at the station, and the lights reflected in his eyes. He spoke softly. "Mother's Womb."

  Maria frowned. "Pardon?"

  She tensed, placed a hand on her belly. Was she showing already? Did he know? But when he spoke again, she relaxed.

  "The space station," he said. "It's official name is Bahay Orbital Observation Station One. But nobody calls it. An artificial intelligence named Dark Mother runs the space station. She monitors all systems, keeps the station alive, and manages the thousands of soldiers who serve there. So we call the station Mother's Womb."

  "An artificial intelligence," Maria said. "You mean a robot?"

  "Dark Mother is the station itself. Everything that you see is her body." He looked at her, raised an eyebrow, and gave a crooked smile. "Would you like to enter Mother's Womb?"

  No. She did not want to enter that machine of death. She wanted to see it burn and fall from the sky. She wanted every soldier on board, every murderer, every demon to die.

  They live in the sky, while we die on the ground, Maria thought. But I will live to see this station burn.

  She could not express her rage to the general. It was the rage of Maria de la Cruz. So she let Candy speak.

  "I would love to! It's wonderful. Can you show me inside, sir?"

  He reached out, stroked her hair. "Such a sweet little liar. You feign such marvelous vapidness. Yes, Maria. I see the hatred in your eyes. I see the fear. I see the ghosts. If you could, you would burn this station down—and me with it. But I'll show you that we're more than demons. Dark Mother will welcome you into her womb. And Mother Earth will welcome you into her empire."

  "You don't have to sway me," Maria said. "I'm just a girl, not the Red Cardinal."

  He held her hand. Tightly. A clamp. "You are the heart of Bahay, little rose. You are all that is precious and defiant and delicate, a shivering rose in a storm, her thorns pricked with blood. You will grow in my garden."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mother's Womb

  Maria flew the shuttle toward Mother's Womb, the space station orbiting her world, the grand fortress of Earth's high command.

  An airlock opened before her. She engaged her reverse thruster, slowed down, and glided toward the entrance.

  General Ward sat beside her. He wrapped his hand around hers, helping her control the yoke. The shuttle slid into the space station, the general flipped on the stabilizers, and they landed in a hangar.

  "My little rose, you're a natural pilot," the general said.

  He popped the hatch, and they exited the shuttle.

  A few noncom soldiers were in the hangar. They were inspecting starfighters, refueling a shuttle, sweeping the floor, and tending to a dozen other daily tasks. When they saw the general, they dropped their tools, slammed their heels together, and saluted. Maria looked at the young Earthlings, and she wanted to ask if they knew Jon. But they stared ahead blankly, carefully avoiding eye contact. A bead of sweat dripped down one mechanic's brow.

  They fear him more than I do, Maria thought. And I fear him very much.

  He walked with her through the station. He showed her rooms full of marines, rows and rows of elite soldiers who stood at attention, clad in deep blue armor, their yellow visors hid
ing their faces. He showed her the dining lounge where grand windows stretched from floor to ceiling, displaying a dizzying view. As the space station rotated lazily, the view kept changing. One moment the windows revealed deep space, then the planet's surface, then space again. Lights shone and flashed outside. A glowing nebula. A meteorite falling to the planet. A comet traveling by, flaming red and blue. Racing starfighters, leaving luminous wakes. Starships floating between the blue and silver moons.

  The general bought her a drink. They sat and gazed upon these splendorous sights, and Maria thought she could watch this cosmic show forever.

  But then they left the lounge. He took her to a menagerie, which Ward called his favorite place in the station. Here he kept his trophies from a hundred conquered worlds. Aliens huddled inside glass enclosures. Those who had heads hung them low. Those who had eyes peered at Maria with heartbreaking sadness.

  Aliens of all kinds languished in cages. Mollusks withered on boulders, sometimes reaching out a tentacle to drink from a puddle. Furry critters with many legs coiled around branches, each limb tipped with its own eyeball and mouth. An enormous flower bloomed, reaching vines toward a dangling pig carcass, nibbling the meal without much appetite. One enclosure held only rocks, but then one rock opened a mouth, revealing a red gullet lined with teeth. Its belly ballooned outward like bubble gum, wrapped around a mouse, then pulled the meal back into its stony body. Other aliens were like living musical instruments. They plucked fleshy cords like guitar strings, they beat membranes of skin like drums, and tapped bony growths like piano keys. Their song was so sad that Maria shed tears.

  "Are they prisoners?" she said.

  The general only laughed. "They're animals, my little rose. This is no different from keeping a chimp or elephant in a cage."

  But some of these aliens, like the blue humanoids who languished in a moldy puddle, looked at Maria with wise eyes. Some shed tears. They were more than mindless animals. Maria could tell. They were sentient. Maybe as intelligent as humans. But they had no voice.

  "At least you put these aliens in cages," she said softly. "When it comes to Bahayans, you just kill."