The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4)

by Daniel Arenson

  Ramses stared. His heart broke. He had known Goonie for years. Had fought with him, drunk with him, dreamed of Earth with him. Now Goonie was dead. And Ramses had to keep fighting.

  He fired his machine guns. Bullets pounded a Copperhead, chipping scales, barely slowing the vessel. Ramses sneered and fired a missile, and the Copperhead exploded in a cloud of metal scales. A basilisk inside burned.

  Around him, his Firebirds were swerving through the sky, battling the Copperheads. The heavy warships were invisible above. Down here in the blue sky was the starfighters' domain.

  Bullets, missiles, and lasers filled the sky of Earth.

  Another Firebird exploded.

  Another.

  Ramses cursed.

  "Get to the colony!" he shouted, but nobody could hear him. He fired in a fury, releasing missile after missile. They had brought many Firebirds from their fleet, but the Copperheads outnumbered them. Explosions bloomed across the sky like blood in water.

  What were these damn Copperheads doing here? Ramses had arrived on Earth with Leona nearly a year ago. Since then, the basilisks had regularly attacked the colony from the ground. They had never launched an aerial assault before.

  It's another poker game, he realized. And they're going all in.

  He barrel rolled, dodging a laser beam, and fired a missile. A Copperhead exploded. Three more swooped from above, and Ramses swerved, soared, and pounded them with bullets. A laser grazed his Firebird's wing, and he cursed, spinning madly, spraying bullets. Mairead swooped in to help, hammering the enemy with her bullets.

  These Copperheads had come from the planet. They had been hiding on Earth.

  Why haven't they bombed the colony from the air? Ramses thought. If they had Copperheads on Earth all this time …

  He understood.

  Of course.

  Leona had installed artillery batteries in Port Addison. They were mainly there to pound basilisk strongholds in the mountains, but they could fire into the sky too.

  The Copperheads fear them.

  "Get to the colony!" Ramses cried. "Don't even fight them—full speed to Port Addison!"

  The other pilots couldn't hear. Of course not. They were still engaging the enemy. Ramses cursed and punched his canopy in frustration.

  He couldn't talk to them, so he'd set an example.

  He sneered, fired two missiles, and took out a Copperhead. He swerved, dodging a laser beam, then shoved down the throttle. His Firebird roared forth on afterburner, shoving Ramses back into his seat. Around him, they would hear the sonic boom.

  He dived. The enemy followed.

  More lasers fired. A blast clipped his wing. Another blast shattered the canopy, and wind and glass slammed into Ramses's cockpit. He screamed.

  He couldn't breathe. He kept dropping in altitude. He glanced behind him, saw the others following, both Copperheads and Firebirds. Mairead rose toward the sun, then swooped, raining missiles on the enemy. Copperheads tore open and tumbled toward the prairies.

  Ramses was suffocating, close to passing out. The air was thin up here, and his oxygen mask had shattered with the canopy. He descended so rapidly his head spun. He gritted his teeth, desperate to cling to consciousness. Laser blasts flew around him, and Ramses zigzagged and rolled. He was going blind. The G force pounded into him.

  He swooped a bit too quickly.

  The world went black.

  He came to, realizing he had lost consciousness for a few seconds. His Firebird was free-falling toward the prairies.

  He shouted.

  No. No! I cannot die before seeing the pyramids. Before saving the others. I will live!

  He gripped the yoke. He placed his boots against his cracked dashboard and pulled on the yoke with all his strength.

  His Firebird's nose rose.

  The starfighter leveled off.

  He kept flying, glided down to comfortable altitude, and gulped down air. Beautiful, breathable air.

  He looked around him. The Copperheads were off his tail for now; they must have left him for dead. But they were still battling the Firebirds that remained.

  Ramses stared ahead. The colony was there—just beyond the horizon.

  He stormed forth, and the others followed.

  More lasers blasted. Another Firebird fell.

  And he saw it ahead. Port Addison.

  The other Firebirds seemed to understand. They had stopped engaging the enemy and were flying toward Port Addison at top speed.

  Within seconds, they had crossed the mountains and were flying over the colony.

  Ramses tilted the Firebird, staring down in horror.

  Countless basilisks were assaulting the colony. They covered the fields. They had consumed the crops. They overran the walls of the settlement. A hundred or more had already broken in, and the colonists were fighting in the streets.

  But the wooden towers still stood. The flags still flew. Humanity had not fallen.

  Ramses roared over the colony in his charred, battered Firebird. The other starfighters followed. The Copperheads pursued them through the sky, lasers blazing.

  And the guns of Port Addison fired.

  The cannons hadn't done much to deter this invasion. They could not aim at the grasslands directly below the walls, where the basilisks were attacking. But now the guns had targets in the air.

  The shells flew skyward at hypersonic speed, so fast Ramses saw the Copperheads explode around him before he heard the booms.

  The Firebirds shot over the colony and swerved, circling the valley.

  The cannons fired again.

  More Copperheads shattered.

  Explosion after explosion rocked the sky. Shrapnel flew everywhere. Copperheads fell around him.

  Ramses clenched his jaw. His Firebird was wobbly. His wing was damaged. His canopy had shattered. But he gripped his controls, descending closer to the valley, and released his payload of bombs.

  The explosives slammed into the hordes of basilisks swarming across the fields.

  He felt an instant of guilt—he was about to slaughter hundreds of lifeforms.

  The guilt vanished when he saw humans lying dead inside the walls. When he thought of his friends who had died fighting these beasts.

  The bombs hit the valley and exploded.

  Fire blazed. Dirt flew skyward. Chunks of basilisks flew every which way.

  Mairead shot by him, releasing her own bombs.

  More snakes died below.

  As the colony's cannons kept firing, taking out the basilisk starfighters, the Firebirds kept bombing the valley. The fire spread across the landscape, consuming the scaly swarm.

  By the tenth round of bombing, when their munitions were nearly gone, the surviving basilisks turned to flee.

  Ramses breathed out in relief. He watched the valley clear of snakes, leaving desolation and piles of corpses. He descended toward the field, preparing to land outside the colony walls.

  A fallen Copperhead, lying in smoldering heap below, raised its scaly prow.

  Ramses cursed and tried to serve in time.

  He was too slow.

  The grounded Copperhead fired its laser cannon.

  Ramses shouted and hit the eject button.

  He flew from the cockpit just as his Firebird exploded.

  More lasers burst around him.

  Ramses tumbled through the air, drew his pistol, and fired. His bullets slammed into the Copperhead below, shattering its cannon. The laser beams died.

  Ramses shut his eyes, limbs shaking, and released his parachute. He glided toward Port Addison.

  He landed in the town square between refugee tents and granaries. Some basilisks were still fighting here—those who had climbed over the wall. Inheritors were firing on them, and Ramses added his bullets to theirs.

  With the sky and countryside back in human hands, the tide shifted. The basilisks in the colony tried to flee, but they were trapped within the walls they had worked so hard to scale. The Inheritors moved between
them, slaying them one by one until they all lay dead.

  The battle was over.

  Panting, Ramses limped across the camp. Wounded and dead humans lay everywhere.

  He found Emet among the survivors. The Old Lion was covered in blood—some of it snake blood, much of it his own. A gash bled on his forehead, others across his body. Several officers stood around him, rifles in hand.

  "Admiral!" Ramses tried to run, winced, and limped closer. He didn't even remember wounding his leg.

  Emet pushed his way through the crowd toward him. He gripped Ramses with his large, callused hands.

  "Pharaoh, thank Ra you're here," Emet said. "You and your Firebirds saved our asses."

  Ramses looked up at the sky, then back at Emet. "Sir, our asses are still on the line." He panted, struggled to catch his breath, and spoke again. "There are thousands of basilisk warships up there, sir. They're jamming our signals, and they're armed to the teeth. Sir—they have Earth surrounded."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rowan walked through the devastation of Port Addison, her pistol hanging limply from her hand, tears on her cheeks.

  So many dead.

  The Firebirds had come. The Firebirds had sent the enemy fleeing. Some scattered cheers rose across the settlement, praising the brave pilots. Men were already offering to buy Ramses and Mairead drinks.

  "Hail the heroes!" cried a man, raising a mug of ale. "Port Addison is saved!"

  But Rowan did not celebrate. Few people did.

  She walked over puddles of blood. Between corpses. Around crushed tents. And she saw not victory but terror.

  A dead mother and child lay under an oak, bodies crushed. Warriors lay fallen by a wall, entwined with dead basilisks. Refugees peered from tents, eyes haunted, too large in their gaunt faces. In those eyes, Rowan saw the shadows of the gulocks.

  "Mama," whispered a dying soldier as medics tried to soothe him. The man's body was crushed. Rowan doubted he would survive the day. "Mama, help me. I want to go home."

  A sob fled Rowan's lips. She had slain basilisks in the battle. She had lost count of how many she had killed. But right now, she did not feel like a heroine. She ran, tears on her cheeks, before collapsing behind a hut. She lowered her head and trembled, heaving.

  "Row? Row! You all right?"

  Bay hurried toward her. He had suffered wounds in the battle, and a bandage wrapped around his thigh. His uniform was splashed with blood, both human and alien. More blood caked his dark blond hair and beard.

  Rowan looked at him. At her Bay. The drunk, drugged-out vagrant who had become an officer, become her hero. Now bruised, bloodied, standing on a battlefield.

  "I never imagined it like this," Rowan said. "I know. Emet always told us we'd have to fight for Earth every day. We knew the basilisks were here. That it wouldn't be easy. That we'd have to rebuild Earth with our blood, sweat, and tears. But damn it, Bay." A tear flowed. "I wanted at least a day. At least one mucking day before the bastards attacked. One day with you here. On Earth. Happy. In love. But the damn basilisks couldn't even give us that, could they?"

  Bay stepped closer to her. He embraced her, his real arm warm, his prosthetic hard and comforting.

  "I love you, Rowan." He kissed the top of her head. "Peace or war, I love you. I know that can't fix this. I know it can't bring back the fallen. I know it can't make you feel better right now. But for what it's worth, I love you."

  She sighed and leaned her head against his chest. "It makes me feel better." She wiped her eyes. "Bay, is this all worth it?"

  He frowned. "Of course it is. Fighting for Earth? Always."

  "Sometimes I wish I were back in Paradise Lost. Hiding in the ducts. Escaping into movies and books." She took a deep breath and looked at the devastation around her. "But I'm where I have to be. I know that. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. This world might not be the paradise I imagined. It's dangerous. The very ground is soaked with blood and tears, and so much more of both will still spill. But this is our world. This is our soil. If Earth were a desolate rock where no blade of grass grew, where the air was filled with poison, where the sky was nothing but smog, it would still be my world. And I would love it dearly. Earth is the most precious place in the cosmos. And it's beautiful." She nodded, wiping her eyes. "It's beautiful."

  "Yo! Kids!" Mairead came running toward them, beckoning.

  "I'm the same age as you, you know!" Bay cried out.

  The Firebug nodded, her red hair flouncing. "And I'm just a kid. Get your asses over to town square! The Old Lion has called a colony-wide assembly. Come on, move it!"

  They ran through the smoldering camp, leaping over dead basilisks and dead humans as ash rained from the sky.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The corpses were still smoldering across the colony. The enemy was orbiting the planet. The crops had been destroyed. Outside in the forests, the basilisks were regrouping.

  I've been on Earth for only a day, Emet thought. And already this dream is dying. I must not let it die!

  He stepped onto the boulder and stood above the crowd. The colonists gathered around them. Seventeen thousand humans. Warriors. Refugees. They covered the square and unpaved streets. They all fell silent, listening.

  Emet raised his microphone, and the speakers at his feet thrummed.

  "People of Earth!" Emet said. "I see fear in your eyes. I see despair. I see pain. But I see courage too! I see honor! I see pride! This is our world. We will defend it. The enemy cannot break us."

  Backs straightened. Chins rose. Good. Emet was scared. But he kept the fear buried. These people knew enough fear already. They needed to see strength.

  He continued.

  "We repelled one attack. But the enemy will be back. We will prepare. We must grow our numbers! There are several million humans still stranded in exile. We must bring them home. Here on Earth, we will build more than this town. We will rebuild our ancient civilization. The road will be long. It will take years, even generations. But we will face the challenges with squared shoulders, with determination and ambition, with courage. We fight on our ancestral soil. We are home!"

  "We are home!" they cried.

  Some fists rose. Some voices cried out in pride. But others were still afraid.

  "They say a thousand basilisk starships surround Earth!" a man cried.

  "Millions of the snakes are in the forests!" said another.

  "How can we bring the rest of our people home?" said another. "They will kill us all."

  Again fear was spreading through the camp. People wailed, prayed, wept.

  Emet raised his hands. "Hear me, friends! We all know fear. We were all born in space. We were born to refugees, themselves the children of refugees. For eighty generations, we struggled in exile. Hated. Hunted. But our generation dared to dream! Our generation found Earth! We will keep the dream alive. The millions who perished in the gulocks impress on us this holy duty. Their deaths will not have been in vain. I promise you, my friends. Earth will never fall again!"

  He looked at the crowd. Not everyone was convinced. Some were still trembling.

  But some still dared to hope. Leona and Bay—his dear children. Tom, Ramses, Mairead—his trusted officers. Rowan—a woman who had become like a daughter to him. They stared at him steadily. They would never back down.

  And many others too. Thousands of them. Refugees who had spent their lives hiding, cowering. Who stood tall on their home soil. They were thin, scarred, haunted. But Emet could think of no better fighters in the galaxy.

  "We have much to do," Emet said. "To build. To defend. To plan and execute. But there is one step we must take first." He took a deep breath. "For thirty-three years, I led the Heirs of Earth. You followed me. You fought for me. But the Heirs of Earth was an army of refugees. Today we are home. Today we will form a new government—a government of Earth. A democratic government. With a leader you choose." His voice softened. "If you choose me, I will accept the honor. I will lead you like I did i
n space. And if you choose another, I will step aside and serve. Today we won a great battle. A historic battle. And as the killing fields still smolder, we will hold a historic election. Let all our voices be heard."

  As they buried the dead, as guards manned the walls and Firebirds patrolled the sky, Earth held its first election in two thousand years.

  A few others stepped forth, nominating themselves. Some had commanded smaller rebel groups, were experienced leaders. Others were simply ambitious or power-hungry or bold. The colony had no way to properly count votes; there was no time to prepare ballots. Each nominee stepped onto the boulder in turn, and the crowd cheered for those they favored.

  Some nominees got barely a sound. Others drew cheers from hundreds.

  When Emet finally stepped onto the boulder, the cheers shook the camp. Thousands cried out his name. Later, Rowan would joke that the basilisks heard the crowd in space.

  "Emet! Emet! The Old Lion!"

  Leona sidled up to him, swinging on crutches, her leg in a cast. She spoke in a low voice for only his ears.

  "Oh, you knew they'd choose you, Dad."

  He raised his eyebrows. "I had no idea. They could have chosen Jon Harris."

  She scoffed. "Jon Harris is most famous for once devouring eight battle rations in one sitting. You led humanity through the Galactic War."

  "Well, I didn't want to brag." Emet smiled. "Leona, this was an important step. We came to Earth to build a civilization. Democracy is the foundation of a moral civilization. We now have the mandate we need. And it's time to get to work."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  As the corpses still smoldered outside, Emet and his lieutenants met in the mead hall.

  It was the largest building in Port Addison, comprised of a single long room. The walls were built from great oak timbers. The roof was thatched. Straw covered the floor. The only stone structure here was the great hearth, where a fire crackled, filling the room with light and heat. Candles burned on antler chandeliers, adding their glow.

  A trestle table dominated the room, carved from maple. Mugs topped the table, filled with mead. A roasted wild boar lay in the center, their evening meal. Instead of chairs, crude logs formed benches.