Starship Freedom

by Daniel Arenson

  She took a deep breath.

  Steady yourself, Emily, she told herself. Whatever happens, be strong. You are a member of the royal family of Britain. You are a steadfast Englishwoman. Whatever terror comes your way, you will face it with courage and dignity. Besides, if it were a rah outside, I doubt he'd knock.

  "Come in," she said.

  Darjeeling entered the suite. He still wore his parade whites. He had not had a chance to change.

  "Your Highness," he whispered.

  And she knew at once.

  She saw it in his eyes. In the tears that dampened his white mustache. She heard it in his voice.

  "They're gone, aren't they?" Emily said. "My family. They're all gone."

  Darjeeling was pale. He met her gaze steadily. "I managed to contact the royal steward. He confirmed the terrible news. They're gone, ma'am. The royal family is gone. All of them but you."

  Hovering nearby, Niles gasped.

  Emily nodded. A tear trailed down her cheek. "Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Darjeeling."

  The aging sergeant held his cap to his chest. "Your Highness, I was and remain your loyal servant. I vow to dedicate my life to protecting you. I will not stop fighting until your enemies are defeated, until we rebuild the throne of our proud nation, and until you are crowned and sit upon it. My life, my honor, and whatever strength remains in me—they are yours, Emily, princess of England."

  She nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Darjeeling. You will best serve all of us now by returning to your post. You are a sergeant major aboard a warship. And the Freedom is a warship again. Godspeed, Mr. Darjeeling."

  He bowed deeply to her, and when he straightened, fresh tears shone on his cheeks. He backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  Niles spun toward her. "Oh dear. Oh dear. Emily, it can't be true. It can't. How can they be gone?"

  The drone began to make strange, discordant sounds. Robotic weeping, she supposed.

  She sat back in her armchair. She stared at the hovering, jeweled drone, the last piece of her home. And finally Emily let out a great sob, lowered her head, and wept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Fort Liberty

  Nebraska

  23:58 Christmas 2199

  It was two minutes to midnight when the sky blazed with fire.

  For hours now, the soldiers of Badger Company had been guarding their fort. Waiting. Staring into the darkness. The night was cold. The kind of cold that cut through the thickest coat, that sliced down to the bone. The wind moaned. The stars seemed distant, their light scattering in the frost that filled the air.

  Bastian had spent these long, cold hours with the company. He manned the southern guard tower, gazing at the shadowy farmlands of Nebraska. Remembering. Seeing again his life, growing up the scion of a great military family. Growing up with stories of war. Growing up and dreaming of becoming a pilot, ending up a grunt. A good life, overall. A life among golden wheat under the blue sky. But now everything was darkness and ice and fear.

  Rowan was inside the barracks, asleep in a bunk. Charging Bear was guarding her, a rifle in his hands.

  Out here on the wall stood the soldiers.

  Still. Silent. Watching. Waiting.

  Alice stood at Bastian's side. She leaned over the guard tower railing, peering into the dark.

  "I can't see shit. We need more lights. A spotlight or something."

  "The lights on the gate are all we got," Bastian said. "I can see fine. Eat more carrots."

  But he was lying. He couldn't see much either. Standing here, it felt like gazing into a black ocean. Just endless miles of shadow, spreading to an unknown horizon, to an unseen terror.

  What is out there? he wondered.

  His soldiers were still and silent, guns loaded. Some stood here on the southern wall. Some at the gate below. Others were patrolling the rest of the camp. Just two hundred troops. Two hundred from a brigade that should be five thousand. On Christmas, it was all he could muster. If trouble came tonight, they would have to be enough.

  And then, with two minutes before Christmas ended, it happened.

  The fire blazed, lighting the darkness.

  The pillars of fire crisscrossed the sky. Bastian had never seen anything like it. He gazed upward, jaw dropping. Enormous roads of flame stretched overhead.

  "What the hell?" Alice shouted.

  Bastian stared grimly. An explosion blazed far above, about the size of the moon, then vanished. Then another explosion. Another. More lines of fire raced across the sky. More blasts lit up the night.

  "Are those comets?" Alice said. "The biggest damn comet shower in history?"

  Bastian shook his head. "That's a battle. The fleet is under attack."

  They heard it then. Booms above. There was no sound in space, of course. But great chunks of starships must have been falling into the atmosphere. Blobs of light spread above like glowing watercolor stains. Boom after boom shook the world. Shrapnel shrieked downward, etching trails through the night.

  And then—

  Bastian gasped.

  "Look!" Alice said, pointing.

  She didn't need to point. Bastian saw it. People probably saw it for thousands of miles around.

  A pillar of fire plunged down from space and slammed into Earth just beyond the horizon.

  A second later, another tornado of flames touched down. This one was closer.

  All around, lines of flame descended, forming columns like a fire god's cathedral. The red light painted the fields and danced on the faces of soldiers.

  Cries rose from across the base.

  "What's going on?"

  "It's aliens! Check the news, it's an alien invasion!"

  "It's war! It's goddamn war!"

  "We're gonna die. Oh God, we're gonna die."

  "I gotta go home. I gotta go to my family. Oh God."

  With a thought, Bastian activated his MindLink. The chip in his brain came to life. MindPlay, the implant's hallucinatory interface, floated before him. It displayed the positions of his troops across Fort Liberty, as well as various other stats and notifications.

  News headlines raced across the bottom of the MindPlay interface.

  ALIEN WARSHIPS ATTACK EARTH

  ALLIANCE FLEET BATTLING ENEMY FORCE IN SPACE

  STATUE OF LIBERTY SINKS

  ALLIANCE HEADQUARTERS DESTROYED

  ALIEN ATTACKS ON ALL MAJOR CITIES

  Snippets of videos hovered in MindPlay. Bastian caught a glimpse of a great battle in space. He gasped to see the alien starships—big, nasty machines covered with claws. Just watching a few seconds of the video told Bastian enough. The Alliance fleet was crumbling.

  A voice rose through his MindLink. A soldier in his company was reaching out.

  "Sir, I'm scared."

  Another soldier called to him telepathically. "Captain King, what do we do?

  "We have to run!"

  "Oh God, I can see the explosions above. That's our fleet burning. Oh God. Oh Jesus."

  This has to be a dream, Bastian thought. How could this be real? An alien invasion? The world burning? This has to be a nightmare.

  But he couldn't wake up.

  Panic rose in him. A tingle to his fingers. A churning sea in his belly. He shoved the panic down. He refused to succumb to the enemy or to his own fear.

  Bastian spoke, letting his MindLink carry his words to every brain in his company. "Badgers Company, collect yourselves! I know you're scared. I know this is new. But you are soldiers of the Alliance! You are my soldiers! You are soldiers of the Freedom Brigade, and you will overcome your fear!"

  "What do we do, sir?" asked a lieutenant—a pale, trembling young man.

  "We defend this base!" Bastian said. "We stand at our posts! And if we must, we fight. Whatever enemy comes at us tonight—you will kill it. Is that understood?"

  Two hundred voices rose through the MindLink. "Yes, sir!"

  He heard the terror in their voices. Many of those "yes, sirs" were s
haky. Bastian himself was shaking. His knees felt weak. Cold sweat dripped down his back, and his hands trembled when he clutched his rifle.

  But he remained at his post.

  He had never fought in a battle. But these soldiers depended on him. Rowan, hiding inside this base, depended on him. Earth depended on him. He would do his duty. He would fight.

  He steadied his grip on his Gideon. He aimed the heavy assault rifle at the shadows.

  "Daddy?" Rowan's voice came through the MindWeb.

  Somehow she had activated her chip again, overriding the parental controls. For once, Bastian was thankful.

  "I'm here, sweetie. I'm nearby. Guarding the gate."

  "Daddy, I'm scared," she whimpered. "I see fire out the window. Are the monsters coming? Come back, Daddy. I'm scared. Please."

  "I gotta stay in this guard tower, sweetie." Bastian sent his words telepathically. With the lump in his throat, he didn't trust himself to speak aloud. "Bear will look after you until I'm back. Isn't that right, Bear?"

  The giant's voice came over the MindWeb. "Absolutely, Bas. I'm here. If any monster wants to mess with Rowan, it would have to get through me first."

  No sooner did Bastian hang up when movement caught his eye.

  He inhaled sharply. He leaned over the guard tower railing, staring at the shadowy fields.

  Shadows were moving in the darkness, stirring the snow.

  Something was heading to the base.

  Bastian made a telepathic call to Colonel Holt.

  "Sir, we need backup!" Bastian said. "There's something coming. I believe we're under attack. I need backup."

  A video feed appeared, floating before Bastian. He was seeing through Colonel Holt's eyes, hearing through his ears.

  The colonel was at home. The leftover Christmas turkey was still on his table. Two enormous spiders filled his dining room, lashing their claws. Blood covered their teeth. Mrs. Holt hung from a hook on the wall, disemboweled, while a spider was gnawing on her legs.

  "Oh God, oh please don't, mercy!" Holt was screaming.

  A claw swiped toward him. Holt raised his hand to block the attack. The claw severed his hand. The rah laughed, then drove a claw into Holt's stomach. The colonel gave a final scream, and then his MindLink went dark.

  Bastian found himself back on the tower, facing the oncoming storm.

  "Bas," Alice whispered. She had seen the video too.

  "Be strong, Sergeant Allenby," Bastian said. "We will defend this base."

  He stood in the tower. Alice stood at his side. Across the base, the other soldiers manned other positions.

  They all stared at the dark fields.

  The shadows were moving faster. Countless creatures were racing in the dark.

  "We need a spotlight!" Alice whispered urgently. "I can't see a damn thing."

  The creatures kept moving closer.

  "Alice?" Bastian said.

  She looked at him. "Yes, Bas?"

  "I'm proud of you, Alice. I've always been proud of you. Stay strong tonight."

  She nodded and gulped. "Let's kill some aliens."

  And there they came.

  Hundreds of them, racing across the snow, shrieking for blood.

  Giant spiders the size of horses. The rahs.

  The battle for Fort Liberty began.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Motherclaw Hunger

  18 Billion kms from Earth

  38th night of Hunter's Moon

  576th Imperial Millennia

  Earth time: Midnight, Dec 26, 2199

  Skel'rah, High Huntress of the Sixth Rah Fleet, lurked in her mothership on the edge of the solar system. Hanging on her web, she watched the great hunt begin.

  Good.

  Overall, things were good.

  Her clawships had bombed their targets, taking the humans by surprise. Her hunters were swarming. Her orbweavers were weaving webs. Claws were being sharpened.

  Yes, quite good.

  They were an interesting species, the humans. So young. So afraid. Surprisingly warlike for a species that had evolved from prey animals.

  Yet perhaps not so surprising. Humans were prey animals, yes. You could tell from their soft skin, small teeth, and lack of claws. Prey animals were fearful by nature, angry and chaotic when trapped in a web. Somehow these humans, lacking claws or horns or exoskeletons, had built the weapons to hunt, to eat meat like the predators they feared, to dominate their planet. But their minds still stormed with the fear of their prey ancestors.

  This would be an interesting hunt. They made interesting meals, these humans. They fought like predators, yes, but their meat was so soft. They were no crunchier than maggots. At the end, trapped in the web, stripped of their weapons—just prey animals after all.

  Skel'rah had hunted many species across the galaxy. To feed, a rah must hunt. Must fly stretch strands from world to world. Must seek new enemies to fight. Must continuously sharpen the claws. Sheertone ash keresh. They lived it every day.

  That was the great curse and blessing of the rahs. That was Ishar, the Right Path. Eternal warfare.

  The gazers, like her mother, had forged this path long ago. Gazers were small spiders, smaller even than orbweavers, but their many eyes saw far. They understood the great dilemma of the rahs.

  If they were to domesticate prey, to raise insentient animals merely for their meat, the rahs would become farmers. Farmers! They would grow fat, weak, decadent. The empire would stagnate. One of the Great Evils from beyond the darkness would topple them. Those demons were forever seeking weak strands in the web.

  It was therefore the greatest sin in Ishar to eat meat grown on a farm. A rah would rather starve. A rah would rather eat her own eggs.

  They could, some factions of hunters observed, become cannibals. No farming necessary. Just pit rah against rah and feast! But that would lead to chaos, claimed the gazers. The entire civilization would cannibalize itself. The Great Evils would watch in delight, then rise to consume whoever remained.

  And so Elder'rah, the great gazer, queen of the web, created Ishar. Their faith. Their way of life.

  There were many rules in Ishar, much wisdom, much punishment for sins. But one central concept guided all its followers: The Great Weaving.

  It was their purpose in this universe.

  They wove this web across the galaxy, stretching invisible strands from star to star, hunting and eating along the way. Growing strong. Sharpening their claws. Planting their eggs in the wombs of species deemed strong enough to nurture a new generation. When the web stretched across the entire galaxy, the gazers taught, the fabled Glass Spider would descend from above and usher in a utopia, an era of endless meat and fleshy wombs.

  Skel'rah was no gazer. She had hatched into the hunter class. That was a stroke of luck. Only one in a thousand eggs hatched a hunter. Even fewer hatched gazers. Even the best of wombs mostly just yielded orbweavers.

  Hunters were practical. They lived for fighting, hunting, eating, and laying eggs. They did not build. They did not question. They followed Ishar and never doubted its wisdom.

  But Skel'rah was no typical huntress. Her mother was the great gazer herself, leader of all rahs. Maybe some of that wisdom had passed into her. Deep down, Skel'rah wondered. She questioned. She did not know if she believed in the Glass Spider.

  Still, the prophecy kept them hunting. Kept them conquering. Kept them sharpening their claws. Kata hel anak, the dance of war, continued.

  Mother probably invented the Glass Spider just to keep us from growing fat and slow, Skel'rah thought.

  So Skel'rah played along. She went on these crusades. She led these great hunts. She wove this galactic web. Dutifully, she prayed to the Glass Spider.

  But she was playing a game of her own.

  My mother is a million years old. She has lived for too long. If I conquer enough worlds, earn enough eresh, I will become the first huntress to lead the Great Web. The long reign of the gazers will end!

  It
would take much eresh to convince the Old Ones to accept a huntress, but at least she wasn't an orbweaver.

  Skel'rah turned her gaze away from the future and toward the hunt of humanity.

  Inside her starship, the orbweavers had woven her a great web where she now hung. Iron pulleys were connected to every strand. The pulleys, in turn, were attached by cables to sensors on the motherclaw's hull. Whenever something interesting happened outside, the pulleys tugged on her cobwebs, delivering the information.

  Skel'rah closed her eyes, sensing the vibrations on her web. Billions of years ago, when the rahs had been small spiders hunting in the jungles, they had learned to sense the movements of other animals on their webs. Later, the rahs had learned to communicate among themselves by tugging on gossamer, delivering simple messages. One quick tug on a strand—food in this direction! A strumming on another strand—watch for danger. A violent yank on two strands together—I desire to breed!

  Over time, they had developed web vibrations into a complex language. The same vibration could mean something completely different depending on the strand, be it radial or circular, near the center of the web or on its perimeter. The combinations allowed for millions of words and concepts. Web-language was more complex than the hisses and grunts they used when hunting. The pulleys continuously vibrated the web where Skel'rah hung, updating her on the great hunt.

  Through the vibrations, she gazed far. She sensed Earth. She sensed the starships that flew around the planet. She sensed the other planets that orbited this star. The trembling cobwebs painted the picture in her mind.

  Everything was going well. Her troops were hunting much prey, earning much eresh.

  But then came a strange vibration on a radial strand. A frequency that disturbed her.

  She inhaled sharply and scuttled higher up her web.

  Well, this was interesting.

  Was this a concern? Maybe. Maybe … But she would deal with it.

  She tugged a strand that connected to a cable in the wall.

  "Hel'rah!" she cried. "Come to me, my spawn."

  A shriek sounded deep inside the motherclaw. "I don't want to!"