The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4)

by Daniel Arenson

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "Mirrors!" Rowan shouted, running down the corridor. "Soldiers, grab mirrors! I want a mirror in every hand! Go, go!"

  Her marine company, comprised of over a hundred soldiers, ran behind her. In the fleet, they were known as Rowan's Rabblers, already a legendary unit. After all, Captain Rowan Emery was famous. She was descended of Marco Emery himself, the Poet of Earth, among the great heroes of history. She had managed to capture and tame Jade, the Blue Huntress, the Scourge of Humanity. And only six months ago, Rowan had slain the scorpion emperor himself in the great Battle of Aelonia.

  Humanity's best soldiers had flocked to join her company. Yet now, as they ran behind her, Rowan trembled with fear.

  The original Rabblers all died in battle, she thought. Do we face death too, and so close to home?

  The Jerusalem jolted as another blast hit them. A laser beam flashed before Rowan, searing through the corridor. Air shrieked out into space.

  "They're giving us a pounding!" shouted one of her soldiers.

  Rowan kicked a door and barged into a cabin. "Grab mirrors! Hurry!"

  A refugee family was cowering in the cabin. Even a year after being liberated from a gulock, one of the scorpions' factories of death, the family's eyes were haunted, their cheeks gaunt.

  "They told us we're almost at Earth," the father whispered. "They said we'll see sunshine."

  "Right now, all I want to see is dead snakes," Rowan said, yanking the mirror off the wall. "Hang tight, guys. We'll take care of this."

  She burst back out into the corridor. The Jerusalem shook as another blast hit. Refugees screamed. The floor thrummed as cannons pounded the enemy. Through a porthole, Rowan glimpsed the battle: hundreds of starships were flying in a maelstrom, lasers and shells flying, explosions flaring.

  Her marines were emerging from cabins, carrying their own mirrors. Other infantry companies were racing elsewhere in the ship. Bay led his own company, a unit named the Lions of Light.

  Not as good a name as my Rabblers, Rowan thought, running toward the airlock.

  Her men ran behind her, their armored spacesuits rattling. Every soldier held a mirror like a shield, and their rifles hung at their sides.

  "Hey, Bay!" Rowan cried as she ran. "Dumbass! I bet I kill more basilisks than you."

  He ran not far behind, leading his own troops. "God, you're competitive. This isn't the time!"

  She flashed him a grin. "It's always the time to beat your ass." She pulled on her helmet. "Race ya!"

  She reached the airlock first, bounded toward the outer door, and leaped out into space.

  She glided into a symphony of fire and death.

  Thousands of ships flew around her, rising, swooping, firing their guns. Lasers and shells flew back and forth. Every breath, another ship exploded, and firelight blazed through the darkness. The Rattlers stormed everywhere, covered with scales, their portholes blazing like red eyes. Humanity's warships and starfighters pounded the enemy with artillery fury, but thick armored scales covered the enemy warships. Meanwhile, humanity's shields, built to withstand the plasma of the scorpions, shattered before the basilisk lasers. Ship after ship burned. Corpses floated through the vacuum, all of them human. Another ship exploded nearby, and debris peppered Rowan, tossing her into a spin.

  Rowan had fought in great battles before. For three years now, she had battled the scorpions in the depths of space.

  But she had never seen enemies like these. Never seen weapons so destructive.

  Earth is so near, but we crumble, she thought.

  She saw it ahead. The blue planet. Legendary homeworld of humanity. So close Rowan felt like she could reach out and touch it. All her life, she had dreamed of coming to this world.

  I will not give you up now, Earth.

  "Rabblers!" she cried into her comm. "Charge! For Earth!"

  Her warriors leaped out of the Jerusalem's airlock behind her. They answered her call. "For Earth!"

  The company ignited their jetpacks.

  A hundred streams of fire blazed behind them, and they blasted forth toward the enemy.

  An instant later, Bay and his company leaped out too, and a hundred more marines joined the assault.

  The soldiers seemed so small, gliding between these massive machines. The ISS Bangkok was firing nearby, its cannons so large Rowan could have crawled inside. Shells slammed into the enemy ahead. Rattlers were everywhere, surrounding the humans, their scaly ships undulating through space. Lasers crisscrossed the battle.

  It's like a goddamn disco, Rowan thought. Of death.

  A Firebird blazed overhead toward the enemy. Its missiles slammed into a Rattler, barely damaging the scales. The basilisk warship replied with a laser assault. The green beam hit the Firebird, and the starfighter shattered. Debris flew around Rowan, and the pilot spun through space, screaming, a hole in his chest.

  Another laser fired, cutting through a sergeant at Rowan's side.

  A third laser sliced a woman from collar to navel.

  A freighter exploded above.

  Around Rowan, they were dying.

  Silence.

  Silence and death in the darkness of space.

  Her head spun. Tears filled her eyes. Her breath became a pant. And Rowan was back there—back in the ducts of Paradise Lost, a frightened girl, scurrying through the shadows, hiding in the ducts.

  I can't do this. She trembled. I'm afraid. I have to run. I have to hide.

  Another warship exploded, and another man died, and Rowan remembered all her battles. All those who had fallen. The millions who had lost their lives for Earth.

  Earth.

  Ahead, it was shining. Calling her home.

  In her memories, Rowan heard her mother sing.

  Into darkness we fled

  In the shadows we prayed

  In exile we always knew

  That we will see her again

  Our Earth rising from loss

  Calling us home

  Calling us home

  And still it beckoned.

  I still remember, Mother.

  A formation of Rattlers turned toward the flying marines. The ships seemed like giant, living serpents, portholes like wrathful eyes, cannons like teeth prepared to sink into flesh.

  Rowan took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes.

  I am a human. A warrior. I have no fear.

  "Take them head on!" Rowan said, broadcasting her words to her company. "Raise your mirrors and fly!"

  Hundreds of human soldiers, wearing nothing but spacesuits, adjusted their jetpacks and flew toward the alien warships.

  And the Rattlers opened fire.

  The laser beams shot toward the company.

  The marines raised their mirrors.

  A beam hit Rowan's mirror with a force like an exploding star.

  Light and heat and crackling energy flared, blinding her, and she screamed. The mirror vibrated and she clung to it, her fingers blazing with agony. She thought the mirror would crack, that her body would burn.

  And then the light dimmed.

  And she saw the green beam flying back toward the Rattler.

  More lasers flashed across the Rabblers. Some beams hit limbs and heads, searing them off.

  But most hit the mirrors.

  The beams bounced back, flashing every which way. Some flew into the darkness of space. Others hit fellow marines.

  But most flew back toward the Rattlers who had fired them.

  The inferno slammed into the enemy warships and seared through their shields like bullets through paper.

  A few hundred meters away, Bay's company raised their mirrors too, casting back their own volley of lasers.

  Explosions bloomed across the Rattler armada.

  Hole after hole pierced their shields.

  Rowan sneered, lowered her mirror, and raised Lullaby. The heavy pistol had been with her for many battles. Eyes narrowed, she aimed and fired.

  Her bullet streaked forth.

>   On the surface, Lullaby looked like an ancient flintlock, the kind a buccaneer from ancient Earth might fire. Its stock and handle were wooden, its external gears forged of brass. But unlike ancient firearms, Lullaby used no gunpowder. It was a stylized railgun, propelling its bullets with electromagnetic fury that would put old weapons to shame.

  Lullaby's bullet streaked forward at hypersonic speed and slammed into one of the Rattlers—right where a laser had seared a hole.

  An explosion blazed across the ship, flipping it over, revealing the rounded engines on its tail. The rattle on the snake.

  Rowan fired again and again.

  Die, you sons of bitches.

  Her bullets slammed into the Rattler's engines, and fire raged. The engines exploded. Scales flew off the ship, and it crumbled, curled up, and burned.

  Some Rattlers were still firing lasers. The marines raised their mirrors again. This time, they were more efficient. Rowan held her mirror steadily, gritting her teeth as she cast the lasers back. Not a single beam hit a marine this time. The blasts ricocheted toward the enemy, and more explosions rocked the basilisk ships.

  Rowan whooped.

  "Charge, onward!" she cried. "Tear them apart!"

  Her jetpack thrummed. She flew and fired Lullaby again and again. Bullets pounded the enemy ships. Her fellow marines were twice her size, and they carried massive assault rifles the size of her entire body. More blasts slammed into the Rattlers, tearing their engines apart, and fire spread across the serpentine warships.

  Lights streaked overhead.

  Firebirds were charging. The starfighters of humanity added their missiles to the assault, hammering the enemy.

  Hope filled Rowan.

  "We're going to beat you," she said. "Earth is ours!"

  More marines were leaping from other human warships now. Mimicking Rowan, they too carried mirrors. They cast back the lasers, allowing their warships to pound the enemy.

  Rattlers exploded one by one.

  The laser beams died.

  Rowan dared to hope they had won, that the enemy would flee.

  But then she saw it, and her heart sank.

  Hatches were opening on the remaining Rattlers. The basilisks emerged into space, wearing metallic spacesuits complete with bulbous helmets. Engines thrummed on their sides, and the snakes flew through space—toward Rowan and her soldiers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Bay raised his mirror, deflecting a laser beam, when Rowan shouted through his comm.

  "Bay, watch out! Snakes!"

  He lowered his mirror and stared.

  Only a few Rattlers were still firing lasers. The human marines were catching too many of the beams, reflecting them back at the scaly warships. Half the basilisk fleet was smoldering, the ships riddled with holes. Behind Bay, the human warships were in even worse condition. Several had shattered into clouds of debris, killing the refugees within.

  And now the basilisks were emerging to fight.

  Thousands of the aliens flew through space, wearing metal suits and helmets.

  "Ra damn!" a sergeant shouted beside Bay, fear in his voice.

  "Those things are huge," said a corporal, her hands trembling on her guns.

  "Steady, soldiers," Bay said. He narrowed his eyes, released his mirror, and raised Lawless, his assault rifle. "Defensive wall formation—and fire!"

  The Lions of Light—his company of hardened warriors—formed a wall in space, ten soldiers wide and ten tall. Their railguns fired, blasting hypersonic fury at the incoming serpents.

  Bullets slammed into the basilisks. A few punched through the aliens' armor, and blood rolled through space. Most bullets missed or shattered against the metal scales.

  A handful of basilisks floated away, curling up in death. But most kept flying toward the humans.

  "Fire, fire!" Bay shouted, switching to automatic. He sprayed bullets.

  The basilisks kept charging. They fired no guns. But murder filled their eyes.

  Firebirds swooped overhead, trying to reach the basilisks. But the enemy launched its own starfighters, tubular vessels barely larger than the snakes themselves. As the starfighters battled around them, the marines and basilisks stormed toward each other through raining fire.

  The basilisks were several kilometers away.

  Then only meters.

  "Hold the lines!" Bay said. "Keep them away from our warships! Soldiers, hold the—"

  The basilisks slammed into the marine formations.

  The cosmos exploded.

  Scales, fire, and pain blazed over Bay's world.

  A dark green basilisk—by Ra, the thing was larger than a damn crocodile—slammed into him like a freight train.

  Bay's armored spacesuit cracked. It felt like his ribs were cracking too. He cried out and swung Lawless like a club, trying to knock the beast back. But the creature had thin, powerful arms with long fingers, and they gripped Bay, crushing him, bending his armor. Around him, more basilisks were barreling through the marine companies. Rowan was shouting overhead, kicking and punching an alien.

  The green beast grabbing Bay opened its jaws wide. Its helmet had metallic jaws too, complete with holes for the fangs.

  "Die now, ape," the basilisk hissed. "Die in darkness."

  The metal jaws closed around Bay's shoulder. The teeth sank through the armored plates—and into his flesh.

  Bay screamed.

  He tried to aim Lawless, but the basilisk was crushing him, and the barrel was too long. In frustration, he fired a bullet into the distance. The gun's recoil was enough to dislodge the alien jaws, and Bay's blood bubbled into space. He aimed the rifle and fired again.

  His bullet slammed into the basilisk's jaws, knocking out several teeth.

  The beast shrieked, tumbling backward in the void. Engines on the sides of its suit came to life, and the basilisk shot forward, howling, eyes blazing.

  The alien overshot Bay, then spun and looped around him. Moving so fast Bay barely registered it, the basilisk formed a noose around him—and tightened.

  The scaly body pinned Bay's arms to his sides and squeezed.

  Bay roared in agony. He tried to reach his jetpack controls, to spray fire, but he couldn't move his arms.

  "Yes, scream for me, ape," the basilisk hissed. Its voice reverberated through their suits, audible even in the vacuum. "I love the sound of your agony. How do you want to die? Crushed or digested?"

  The basilisk tightened further.

  Gears bent and twisted on Bay's prosthetic arm.

  Something cracked inside him. Maybe just a gear on his arm. Maybe a rib. The pain was so great Bay couldn't even scream.

  He managed to shove raspy words past his lips. "Muck … you …"

  His prosthetic arm was connected to his nerves. With his mind, Bay activated the limb's power source. It thrummed. With another thought, Bay blasted a bolt of energy from the palm.

  Electricity crackled.

  The basilisk squealed and loosened its grip.

  Thank you, Rowan, Bay thought. You were smart to install a pulse weapon on my arm. You saved my ass.

  Before the basilisk could tighten around him again, Bay grabbed his jetpack controls. He blasted a spray of fire, burning the creature. He shot upward through its grip like a slippery fish from a man's hands. His jetpack roared, bathing the basilisk with fire. Bay soared high, then flipped over, aimed his rifle, and peppered the beast with bullets.

  The basilisk's helmet shattered. Bay loaded another magazine and hammered its skull with lead.

  Brains and blood splattered, and the alien corpse floated through space.

  Bay didn't even spend a moment on relief. His spacesuit was perforated, losing pressure. With numb fingers, he pulled out his trusty roll of tape and sealed the breaches. Only then did he allow himself a deep breath.

  He winced. Pain shot through him, only now registering. Damn it! The basilisk had definitely cracked a rib or two. Every breath was a saw through his chest. Bay still had some
Harmonians inside him—a gift from Rowan—and the tiny beings were surging through his chest, healing and mending. Thanks to the little critters, Bay and Rowan healed faster than most people. Especially Rowan, who had kept the bulk of the microscopic organisms inside herself. Bay was glad to have a few of his own. The Harmonians probably saved his life today.

  It still hurt like a son of a bitch, though.

  His prosthetic arm was cracked too, the wood splintering, the gears twisted. It crackled uneasily, its power source loose. No Harmonians would be fixing that contraption anytime soon.

  Bay looked around him.

  Muck.

  The basilisks were tearing through his men. The human lines had collapsed. The serpents were everywhere, biting, clawing, and constricting. All around Bay, the aliens were wrapping around marines, tightening until they cracked the bones. Bay watched, nauseous, as a basilisk cracked open a dead man's suit, then guzzled down the corpse.

  He turned his head.

  He saw it there.

  So close. They were almost in orbit.

  Earth.

  He tightened his lips.

  "Soldiers!" he shouted. His comm was connected to every helmet in his company. "Men and women of Earth! We did not come so far just to die here in sight of our homeworld. Reform the lines! Assault formation! Fight! Tear through the enemy and let this be our most glorious victory. For Earth! For Earth!"

  Hundreds of jetpacks ignited.

  The soldiers of humanity rallied around him, changing from a wall formation to an arrowhead.

  "For Earth!" they cried, streaming forth.

  Their guns fired.

  Their bullets tore through the enemy.

  Fire blazed around them.

  The basilisks scattered before them, shrieking in fear, hammered with lead. The aliens launched a desperate attack, snapping their jaws at the humans, grabbing and crushing limbs. Soldiers screamed as they died.

  "Maelstrom formation!" Bay shouted.

  He yanked his jetpack's handlebars and curved his flight path. The others followed. A hundred soldiers formed a ring, pointing their exhaust pipes outward, blazing like a halo of fire.

  Around them, the basilisks burned.

  "Forward!" Bay cried.

  The formation rolled forth, a blazing wheel, tearing through the enemy lines. The basilisks fell back, armor and scales melting. As the Lions of Light flew, the marines kept firing their guns, and scales cascaded through space.