The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4)

by Daniel Arenson

  He rose from bed too. He came to stand beside her, and he saw a tear on her cheek, glimmering with starlight. Outside a thousand other starships were gliding with them, ferrying humanity home.

  "Why are you scared?" Bay said.

  She turned toward him. "Bay, two thousand years ago, we lost Earth. The aliens destroyed our planet, killed billions of us, banished the survivors into space. Since then, aliens hunted us everywhere. We suffered. We hid. In asteroids. In rundown space stations. In caves and forests. And we dreamed. Of green hills. Golden fields. Blue skies. We dreamed of seeing Earth again. Millions of us died in the gulocks and battlefields so that we could see Earth again. And now, after all that, we're almost there. We're so close. And Bay … what if it's not like we dreamed? What if the hills are burnt, the fields barren, the skies polluted? What if the dream turns into a nightmare?"

  Bay cupped her cheek in his hand. "Then we'll plant new grass. We'll plow new fields. We'll clean the air until it smells sweet. It doesn't matter what state Earth is in. Because it's our world. Even if we just find a lifeless rock, awash with pollution and disease, it will be ours. And it will be precious."

  She hugged him. "I love you, Captain Bay Ben-Ari."

  He kissed the top of her head. "I love you too, Captain Rowan Emery."

  They embraced for a long moment. Then Rowan frowned and looked down. "My God, Bay, are you ready again?"

  His cheeks flushed. "Well, you were hugging me, and you're naked, and . . ."

  Her eyes widened. "You're a stallion, Bay!" She pulled him back to bed. "Come on, we need to practice some more!"

  He sighed. "If you insist."

  Afterward, Bay rose and began to dress, pulling on his Inheritor uniform: brown trousers, a collared white shirt, and a blue jacket. He also attached his prosthetic arm. But Rowan remained in bed.

  "It's Sunday," she said. "Stay in bed all day with me. We'll watch Big Trouble in Little China."

  Bay frowned, pulling on his boots. "Didn't we watch that last month?"

  Rowan nodded, still lying under the blankets. "We must watch it every month! Because it's awesome! It has a beholder! And Kung Fu magic! And a man who gets so angry his head swells up until it explodes!" She pulled out her minicom and turned on the movie. "You in, Bay?"

  "Row, I know it's Sunday, but I promised Commodore Crane I'd help him calibrate the new shield interfaces, and I wanted to go over the latest battalion warehousing software. The coolants down at the water filtration cistern need replacing too, and I figured it's a good chance to learn how to do that."

  She yawned. "Boring! I didn't hear anything in that description about people getting so angry their heads explode."

  "Mine might," Bay said.

  She perked up. "Really? That would be bitchin'! Can you explode now? Wait, wait, let me get my camera!"

  Bay rolled his eyes. "Row, how's this? You help me calibrate the shields and replace the cooling pipes, and I'll watch your movie with you."

  She chewed her lip. "Make me pancakes for breakfast, and you've got a deal."

  "Eat them quickly, all right?" He glanced at the snacks on the bed—the wrappers were all empty. "Ah, hell, I forgot who I'm talking to. Those pancakes would be gone before I've—"

  Rowan was already at their kitchenette, banging on the tabletop with knife and fork. "Less talk, more frying! I'm hungry!"

  Bay rolled his eyes. "You're lucky you're adorable."

  He got to work. He had just finished frying his first batch of pancakes when his minicom buzzed.

  He looked at the incoming message.

  Damn.

  It was from Admiral Emet Ben-Ari. Commander of the Heirs of Earth. The leader of humanity. Bay's father.

  "My dad wants us on the bridge," he said to Rowan. "On a Sunday morning. In full uniform. At once."

  Her face paled. This was serious.

  She nodded. "All right. Let me get dressed." She rose from her seat, then grabbed the pancakes. "But we're taking these with us."

  They raced out the cabin and hurried down the winding corridors of the Jerusalem. The starship bustled around them, a hodgepodge of machinery, flashing lights, marching soldiers, and a hundred cabins dedicated to war. Yes—there was still a war going on. Even now. The scorpions were defeated perhaps, but cruel aliens still filled the galaxy, and they loathed humans.

  We might still be facing years of battle, Bay thought. We might have to fight for Earth every day of our lives.

  They headed toward the bridge, toward their duty, leaving their corner of happiness behind.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "And the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead them the way," Emet said softly. "And by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light."

  Old words.

  Words from a people lost in the wilderness, seeking a way home.

  Out here in space, there was no day, only the long, cold darkness of night. And so Admiral Emet Ben-Ari, leading his lost tribe, raised his own pillar of fire.

  He elevated the prow of the ISS Jerusalem, flagship of humanity's fleet. And he fired his plasma cannon. Flames roared upward, spinning and crackling and blazing with heat and light. In the darkness of exile, in the vastness of space, a pillar of fire burned. Leading his people onward. Giving them light.

  The Jerusalem kept flying, and behind, the others followed.

  A thousand starships.

  Old. Dented. Charred. Freighters and tankers, pontoons and cargo hulks, starfighters and frigates. The battered remains of the Heirs of Earth. Within them flew humanity. Warriors and rebels. Those who had gone through fire and rain, who had survived the inferno of the gulocks and the horrors of the killing fields. Together, twenty thousand souls, they followed him. They flew after his light in the darkness.

  Emet led them onward.

  They were flying home.

  They were flying to Earth.

  "For two thousand years, we were lost in shadow," Emet said. "Before us rises a pale blue light."

  It shone ahead, that distant blue dot. No larger than a mote of dust.

  But it was unmistakable.

  For the first time in his fifty-eight long years, Emet saw Earth.

  "Behold Terra," he said. "Our sacred mother. Our homeworld and promised land. Our anchor and port of call, the song that forever has called us home, that—"

  "Mine, mine!" Rowan ran onto the bridge, arms pumping.

  "Damn it, Row, give it back!" Bay burst onto the bridge behind her, face red. "You stole it."

  She ran around the bridge, holding a stack of pancakes. She took a bite, then stuck her tongue out at him. "My pancakes!"

  Bay chased her. "I cooked enough for both of us!"

  "Soldiers, enough!" Emet roared, glaring at them. Had the two no respect?

  They ignored him. Bay reached out his mechanical left arm, trying to grab Rowan. But she dodged the metal fingers, stuffed the pancakes into her cheeks, and chewed.

  "Nom nom." She gulped and licked her lips. "Tastes like victory."

  Bay paused and groaned. "Bloody hell, Rowan, where do all those pancakes go? You're as small as a hobbit, but you eat like an ogre."

  She grinned. "We hobbits are known for our appetites."

  Emet cleared his throat. "Kids."

  Rowan spun toward him, eyes flashing. "We're not kids! We're captains in the Heirs of Earth. Commissioned officers. And I'm twenty already! Well, nineteen. Okay, turning nineteen next week. But I'm certainly not an ogre!"

  Bay nodded. "She's right. She's not an ogre. She's a damn pancake eating monster." He reached into her vest pocket. "And you're hiding even more pancakes in here!"

  She growled. "Hey, those are mine." She leaped onto him. "Bay, give them back!"

  "Enough!" Emet roared. "Damn it, soldiers, for the first time in two thousand years, human eyes gaze upon Earth, and you two are busy bickering over batter."

  They froze.

  They both spun toward him.

  The pancakes slappe
d onto the deck.

  Bay and Rowan turned toward the viewport. Finally they noticed the pale blue dot.

  "Earth," Bay whispered. He stepped closer to the viewport, placed his hand against the tall screen, and gazed with tears in his eyes. "It's real. I always knew it was real."

  Rowan slipped her hand into his. Tears flowed down her cheeks. "There it is. From that world—everything that we are. Rock n' roll and jazz and K-pop. The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. Books and songs and laughter and poetry." She sobbed and wrapped her hand around the crystal that hung from her neck. "For so many years, I lived with the echoes of Earth, those contained in the Earthstone. Mere memories, light and sound trapped in stone. And there she is. Our world. Not ancient but rising before us in this generation. And she's beautiful." Rowan turned toward Emet and smiled through her tears. "She's so beautiful."

  The word spread quickly through the fleet. Others came to join them on the Jerusalem's bridge, crowding the small chamber. Aboard a thousand other starships, the survivors of humanity gazed in wonder as their homeworld grew larger ahead.

  The blue dot became a sphere, then a glimmering orb that shone with ancient brilliance. Soon Emet could make out the continents, the arctic, and the silvery moon. For forty years, he had fought this war. For decades, he had battled humanity's enemies, fighting for every light-year along the long road home. For thousands of years, generation after generation, his family, his people, had yearned to return to their lost homeworld. And now Emet, a man known for his strength and gruffness, a man they called the Old Lion, a man who had faced death and slaughter countless times—now he shed tears.

  We are home.

  His comm flashed.

  The planet was hailing him.

  Instinctively, Emet tensed. The basilisks roamed this corner of the galaxy. In the chaos following the devastating Galactic War, the basilisks were struggling—like most species—to claim whatever territory they could. Emet had flown this far unopposed, but were the basilisks finally calling?

  He accepted the call, prepared for a war of words—and perhaps of fire.

  But it was no scaly beast that appeared on his monitor.

  Instead, he saw a young woman. Her eyes were large and brown, her hair dark and curly, her skin olive toned. A proud face. A familiar face. Behind her swayed the fields and trees of Earth.

  "Hi, Dad." She grinned and waved.

  Emet grinned too. "Hello, Leona."

  He hadn't seen his daughter in a year. Not since sending her to find Earth and form a colony. Until now, he hadn't even known if she had survived. Relief and love flooded him.

  "The weather's great down here, Dad," Leona said. "We're all here waiting for ya. I'll set the table, and we'll feast tonight on Earth crops."

  Emet nodded. "What about the basilisks? Have you encountered any resistance?"

  Her face hardened. "Yes. Quite a bit. The bastards are swarming all over the planet." She lowered her head. "Many brave souls fell defending the colony." She looked back up, fear in her eyes. "Dad, the basilisks have warships. Terrible machines we call Rattlers. They're hiding. They want to trap you. They—"

  Static crackled, hiding Leona.

  "Damn it." Emet pounded the monitor. "Leona? Leona, can you hear me? I—"

  The static vanished. A new video feed appeared. A new face stared through his monitor.

  "Hello, ape. Welcome to your graveyard."

  Emet grimaced.

  Ugly bugger, he thought.

  A basilisk was sneering on the monitor.

  Emet had seen basilisks before—giant alien serpents, as large as pythons. But he had never seen a basilisk so hideous.

  The creature looked like a demon risen from nightmares. Armor covered his scaly body, each segment sprouting a crown of blades. He wore a spiky iron helmet that covered the entire head, even the eyes. The jaws emerged from the metal contraption, elongated and filled with rows of teeth, more like the jaws of a shark than a snake. Saliva dripped from the hellmouth, sizzling. Scaly flaps extended around the morbid head like a cobra's hood.

  What the hell are you? Emet thought, staring at the twisted basilisk.

  Beside Emet, a young lieutenant turned from the navigation station. "Sir, I'm detecting enemy ships emerging from behind the planet!"

  "The bastards are all over the place!" shouted another officer, pointing at a monitor. "Hundreds of basilisk ships are flying from behind the moon!"

  Emet inhaled sharply and looked away from the demonic countenance on his monitor.

  "Everyone, battle stations!" Emet barked at his officers, then turned back toward the monitor. He stared at the hissing alien. "Name yourself, basilisk, and stand down!"

  The serpent's forked tongue flicked. The scaly creature tossed back his head and laughed. A chain of human skulls hung around his neck, clattering.

  Basilisks were an ancient species, but new to galactic conquest. Little was known about them across the cosmos. Only that they were fiercely intelligent, cunning, and malicious.

  Emet watched thousands of their starships—the dreaded Rattlers—fly toward his fleet. The serpents flew elongated, scaly frigates, their engines like rattlesnake tails, their prows tipped with cannons like fangs. The transmission was coming from the lead warship, a gargantuan machine larger than any starship the humans flew.

  "I am Naja, viceroy of Earth," said the basilisk on the monitor. "This world is ours. Turn back now, apes! Turn back, or this will be your fate."

  The armored basilisk slithered aside, revealing his starship's bridge.

  Emet's chest tightened.

  At his side, Rowan gasped and covered her mouth.

  Bay ran toward the monitor, face red. "You mucking bastards!" he cried.

  Cages hung inside the basilisk warship. Humans were trapped inside, their limbs amputated. No, not amputated—bitten off. The poor souls were still alive, moaning. Some were missing only a single arm or leg. Others were missing all four limbs. Beneath the cages, juvenile basilisks were devouring the limbs and sucking on the bone marrow.

  "Your flesh is soft and succulent, apes." Naja returned to the monitor. "Our children love the morsels. A pity your limbs cannot regrow. We'll simply need to capture more of you." His jaws opened in a grin, revealing hundreds of teeth. "Your chance to retreat is over. Prepare to be devoured."

  The transmission ended.

  The basilisk armada stormed from Earth's orbit toward the approaching human flotilla.

  The enemy cannons extended.

  Green laser beams blasted toward the human fleet.

  The beams moved too fast to dodge. A laser sliced through a corvette, tearing the warship clean in half. Humans spilled into space, screaming. Another beam seared through a munitions freighter, and the warship exploded in a massive ball of fire, taking out several nearby ships. Debris pattered the Jerusalem, and an instant later, a laser blast slammed into their prow, searing holes into their shields and nearly breaching the hull. Klaxons wailed. Smoke filled the bridge. Officers fell and men screamed.

  For an instant, memories pounded through Emet.

  Visions of the horrible Galactic War. It had ended half a year ago, but the terror flared anew.

  He gritted his teeth. He spun toward his coughing, battered crew. Most were lying on the deck, bleeding and burnt.

  "Damn it, soldiers, man your stations!" Emet roared. "Fight back! Fight them!" He hit his comm, broadcasting words across his thousand ships. "All ships—fire! Fire everything and tear them down!"

  He spun back toward the viewport to see the Rattlers charging across the distance.

  The enemy cannons were heating up again, locking onto their targets.

  Sneering, Emet leaned over a control panel and fired the Jerusalem's front cannons.

  At his sides, officers aimed the port and starboard cannons forward, adding their firepower. Hundreds of human warships jolted as their own cannons hurled death at the enemy.

  Lasers slammed into the Inheritor fleet.

&n
bsp; Beams tore through ships around Emet.

  A green rod of searing death slammed through the front of the bridge, blazed across the chamber, and tore through the ceiling.

  Three men fell, sliced open.

  Alarms blared. The air began shrieking out from the ship.

  "Seal the hull!" Emet cried, then pulled the triggers again, firing the cannons. The air howled around him. Debris flew. One man screamed on the floor, arm and torso cut open, bleeding out as he wept.

  Men raced toward the holes in the bulkheads and began sealing the breaches. A second laser blast rocked the Jerusalem, carving off a chunk of lower deck. Blast doors slammed shut, sealing breaches.

  Ra damn, Emet thought, sudden horror seizing his limbs. These shields could stop a pounding from scorpion cannons. The basilisks were slicing through them like swords through mist.

  "We can't survive much more!" Rowan shouted, voicing everyone's thoughts. She stood at the starboard gunnery station, firing a cannon.

  Another human ship exploded beside them—this one filled with refugees from the gulocks. Hundreds of humans spilled into space, only for lasers to sear through them. Hundreds who had survived the horror of the scorpions—slain within sight of their homeworld.

  Two Firebirds shattered.

  A medical ship exploded.

  Emet stared as the lasers picked out ship after ship.

  This wasn't supposed to happen, he thought. We're so close to home.

  He stared up through the fire. Past the lasers, the floating corpses, and the sea of enemy warships, he saw it.

  Earth.

  The pale blue marble.

  Home.

  No, Emet thought. We will not die here.

  "Mirrors," he said. "We need mirrors."

  Bay struggled to his feet, his prosthetic arm bent. He stumbled toward a gunnery station and fired another shell at the enemy.

  "Now's not the time to admire your reflection, Pops!"

  Rowan gasped. She seemed to understand. She nodded. "Sir! There are hundreds of cabins aboard the Jerusalem. Each one has a mirror."

  Emet nodded. "Bay, Rowan, grab your spacesuits and guns. It's time to go home."