The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4)

by Daniel Arenson

  I pray to come back soon, Earth. Goodbye.

  She waved to the crowd and stepped into the shuttle. The others followed.

  Bay sat in the shuttle's cockpit. He hit a few buttons. The engine purred, then stalled. Bay tried again. The engine rumbled, then stalled again. And a third time. Finally a robotic voice emerged from the speakers.

  "Seat belts must be buckled before engines may operate."

  Bay sighed. "I miss Brooklyn."

  Rowan sat beside him and patted his knee. "She's still in our computer systems. We'll find her a new body." She reached across him, grabbed his seatbelt, and snapped it into place. "Take us up there, Bay."

  The engine roared.

  The shuttle soared.

  The two Firebirds flew around them, escorting them away from Earth. Rowan watched Port Addison from above. It became smaller and smaller, soon vanishing into the wilderness.

  It's a mere speck, invisible from up here, Rowan thought. Only a few thousand humans living in a tiny town, and the snakes surround us. She raised her eyes and looked up into the sky. The rest of you are out there. I'm going to find you.

  They breached the atmosphere, emerging into space.

  Rowan saw them ahead.

  She gasped and clutched Bay's hand.

  "My God," she whispered.

  There were thousands.

  Thousands of Rattlers.

  The long, scaly warships could dwarf any human vessel. They were beasts built for killing. They were arranged nose to tail, forming rings around the Earth, orbiting like a great net.

  Or like constricting boas, Rowan thought.

  Beneath the basilisks, trapped between Earth and the Rattlers, orbited the human fleet. Fewer than a thousand ships, most barely larger than this shuttle. Against the might of the basilisk armada, the human fleet seemed laughable, a few piranhas facing a swarm of sharks.

  "We ain't flying through this blockade anytime soon," Rowan muttered. "Coral, this trick of yours better work."

  Coral rose from the backseat, stepped into the cockpit, and stood between Bay and Rowan. Her robes rustled, brushing against Rowan. The weaver smiled mysteriously, and her eyes shone.

  "It will work," she said.

  For an instant, rage filled Rowan. A strand of Coral's silky hair was brushing her cheek, and Rowan blew it away in frustration.

  How dare she stand between Bay and me? How dare she be so pretty?

  Silly thoughts. Rowan knew it. She was ashamed of them. She would never speak them. But she kept remembering all those looks Coral had given Bay. All those times she had seen the two conversing behind a tree or in a garden.

  And now the weaver placed her hand on Bay's shoulder. She actually touched him!

  "Fly the shuttle to our starships, Bay," she said. "I'll open a portal once we're all inside. We'll only have minutes."

  And you only have seconds to take your hand off him, Rowan thought, fuming.

  But alas—Rowan needed the weaver now. Coral had a new rune. One she claimed could open a portal through spacetime. That would allow human starships to hop from orbit to deep space, bypassing the blockade. Right now, Coral was Earth's only hope.

  Even if she filled Rowan with jealousy.

  They were gliding toward the human fleet when the shuttle's monitor crackled to life.

  A hideous visage appeared there, hissing.

  Rowan inhaled sharply. Bay cursed and even Coral seemed shaken.

  The monitor showed the interior of a basilisk starship. A serpent was facing them, tongue flicking.

  The creature must have been blind. His spiky armored helmet covered his eyes. The jaws thrust out, filled with several rows of teeth. Saliva dripped between the twisting fangs. Unlike other basilisks, which looked more like pythons, this serpent sported a scaly hood like a cobra. Metal plates covered its body, crude and bristly with spikes and hooks.

  "Return to your hive, pests," the basilisk hissed. "Return and pray for quick deaths."

  Rowan frowned. She stared at the creature. "Who are you? This is our sky. Who dares threaten us above our world?"

  The creature turned his head toward her. He had no eyes, but Rowan could feel him staring, even through the monitor. A forked tongue emerged, flicking, dripping venom.

  "Ahhh … little Rowan." The creature gave a hissing laugh. "It is you, isn't it? The ape who slew Sin Kra, emperor of scorpions. I was expecting someone pathetic, though not this pathetic. I've coughed up chunks of meat larger than you. To my people, I am known as Prince Naja, son of Xerka, viceroy of Earth and illustrious commander of the basilisk fleet. You may call me master."

  Rowan rolled her eyes. "Sort of like Master Splinter?"

  Naja hissed. "What is this foul word you speak? I will crush your bones! I will devour your flesh! I will—"

  "Very un-Splinterlike, dude," Rowan said. "Listen, Bub. I don't give a damn who you are. This is our sky. Threaten me one more time, and we'll blow your fleet apart. We defeated the scorpions. We can certainly defeat a bunch of snakes with delusions of grandeur."

  She hit a button, cutting off the video call.

  "You certainly have a way with words." Bay sighed. "That's why Dad gave the diplomatic mission to Tom and Leona."

  Rowan stared outside at the fleet, frowning. "No. Threats work on them. They're scared of us."

  Bay scoffed. "Scared? Row, their ships outnumber us ten to one. Hell, probably a hundred to one."

  "And yet they haven't attacked yet."

  "Haven't attacked yet?" Bay looked at her, head tilted. "Are you crazy? What the hell happened last week, then, when about a billion of these muckers swarmed across the colony?"

  "That wasn't Naja's fleet attacking," Rowan said. "That was the basilisks on the surface, just the common snakes." She stared at the Rattlers above. "Oh, he's afraid. We scare the shit out of him. That's why the Rattlers are blockading us instead of launching an all-out war."

  "Or they might be preparing to launch that war at any moment," Bay said. "Naja might just be waiting for the order from Queen Xerka." He shuddered. "You really reckon he's Xerka's son?"

  Rowan shrugged. "Could be. He's larger than the other basilisks. Maybe the nobles have different DNA. Ugly bastard, in any case. The way that helmet hides everything but the jaws." She shuddered too.

  "If he's the damn prince, the basilisks are taking this war very seriously," Bay said. "As soon as Mommy gives him the okay, Junior will attack. And he must have thousands—if not millions—of basilisks in those Rattlers. Soldiers. Tougher buggers than the peasants we killed."

  Rowan winced. "We better hurry with Operation Exodus. We need more human fighters!"

  Tom and Leona, who had been sitting in the back, stepped into the crowded cockpit.

  "And we need more allies," Leona said. "We can't win this war alone. We need friends from other species. Tom and I better hurry too. From what I heard, that Naja is damn hungry for human."

  "Hungry for Human," Rowan said. "That would make a killer band name." She nodded. "Hurry it is."

  Bay piloted the shuttle toward the HDFS Cagayan de Oro, a small and speedy corvette. They were to drop Leona and Tom on that ship; the pair would fly it on their diplomatic mission to the Galactic Council. Bay and Rowan would then dock in the HDFS Byzantium, a heavy tanker refitted into a frigate-class warship. The mighty Byzantium, among the most powerful warships humanity owned, would lead the Exodus Fleet.

  Their two Firebirds escorted the shuttle toward the larger ships, flying close.

  All these ships, of course, had once been prefixed with ISS: Inheritor Starship. They now proudly bore the HDFS prefix. Human Defense Force Ships. Not vessels of exile. Warships of Earth.

  They were old ships, battered and charred, ships that had seen too many battles. Yet as Rowan gazed at them, her chest swelled with pride.

  A basilisk warship moved.

  Gun turrets extended.

  Rowan started, snapping out of her reverie.

  "Watch out!" she shouted
and grabbed the yoke from Bay, yawing hard to the left.

  Three laser beams fired. The two Firebirds exploded. The third beam grazed the shuttle's hull.

  "Reverse, reverse!" Rowan said. "Bay!"

  "I'm doing it!" he said, pulling the shuttle back a kilometer.

  They hovered in space. Rowan stared, eyes stinging with fury and grief. The debris of the two Firebirds floated above. She had known those pilots. Had been their friend. Her eyes filled with furious tears.

  She reached down, hit the comm, and blasted a signal at the basilisk warship.

  "Naja, you son of a bitch!" she shouted.

  He did not accept the call. He didn't have to. He had made his point.

  Defy the blockade—and die.

  "Muck!" Rowan rose from her seat and paced the shuttle. "What the hell do we do now? I know Coral can open a portal. What use is that if we can't even reach our damn starships? Are we to bring millions of humans home inside this shuttle, a vessel barely larger than my ass?"

  The others all looked at her. Silent. Lost in their thoughts and grief. They didn't know the answer.

  "What?" Rowan said. "Why are you all looking at me?"

  Bay shrugged. "You're our leader. You're the dreaded Rowan Emery, after all, the ape who killed the scorpion emperor. You heard Splinter."

  She rolled her eyes. "Don't make me splinter your skull." She kept pacing. "All right. Let's go over the plan again. We need actual starships to go on our mission. One for Tom and Leona to fly out and find allies. And a few hundred for Bay and me to collect more refugees. Once we're in the ships, Coral will open a portal for us to fly through, and—"

  "Rowan, we know!" Bay said.

  "Hush! I'm thinking out loud." Rowan pursed her lips. "But we can't even reach the damn ships. If we inch closer—laser time."

  "Rowan, seriously, we know!" Bay said.

  She smacked his head. "Let me think! This is how I think." She tapped her chin, then widened her eyes. She wheeled toward Coral. "Hey, Coral! You can open wormholes, right?"

  The weaver was sitting primly in her seat, hands folded on her lap. "With great effort, and using all my skill, I can open a gateway to the Empyrean Firmament, the realm of the ancients. We may fly through their domain with great speed and safety, then return to our own existence many light-years away."

  "That's what I said! Wormholes." Rowan nodded excitedly. "So if you can open giant wormholes for spaceships to fly through, it should be easy to open tiny little wormholes, right? Like—from inside this shuttle into our starships?"

  Coral frowned. "Opening portals is delicate business. Smaller is harder. To contain such energy within this shuttle can be catastrophic. Opening a large wormhole is like taking an axe to a log. Opening a small one would be like performing surgery on an ant. Using the same axe. I cannot guarantee that—"

  "Good enough for me!" Rowan said. "That means you can try at least. So—beam us up!"

  The weaver tilted her head. "Beam you up?"

  Rowan nodded. "That's right, Scotty. Do your magic!"

  Coral glanced at the others. "Is Rowan in charge of this mission?"

  "Ape Rowan is in charge of everything," Rowan said. She clapped her hands. "Chop chop! Get to ant surgery!"

  Rowan didn't miss Bay stifling a smile. It warmed her heart.

  You might be beautiful and know magic, Weavy, Rowan thought, looking at Coral. But I can make him laugh.

  Coral rose to her feet. She nodded. "I'll try. I might end up blowing us up. Let's put on our spacesuits first—just in case."

  They suited up, pulled on their helmets, then crowded at the back of the shuttle, giving Coral space. The weaver sat cross-legged on the floor, closed her eyes, and tilted back her head. For long moments, she took deep breaths.

  A glow appeared behind her eyelids.

  Her white hair fluttered as if she sat underwater.

  Aether, Rowan thought, unable to suppress a shudder. The damn thing helped us win the last war. But it freaks me out.

  For long moments, Coral meditated. Runes on her body began to glow.

  A circle on the deck glowed too, a sigil the size of a manhole cover.

  Coral trembled. Sweat trickled down her forehead, and her breath shook. But she kept meditating.

  A second glowing circle appeared, this one on the bulkhead.

  Two portals, Rowan realized.

  "Hurry," Coral whispered, eyes closed, voice strained. "I can't … keep them open . . . much longer."

  "Which portal leads to the Byzantium?" Rowan asked.

  Coral was shaking. She gritted her teeth, then groaned in pain. "Hurry!"

  Leona grabbed Tom's hand. "One ship's as good as another."

  They both leaped through the porthole on the bulkhead. The Iron Lioness and the Shepherd vanished into the light.

  Rowan grabbed Bay. "All right, Pancake, the hole on the floor is ours. Time to jump into the sewer. Cowabunga!"

  She leaped into the portal, pulling Bay with her.

  Rowan had flown through wormholes before, the luminous pathways between the stars, relics of an ancient civilization that had colonized the galaxy a million years ago. Flying through those tunnels was like taking an expressway among the stars. They were wide, well-lit, and fast as hell.

  Coral's wormhole was more like a rickety rope bridge over a crocodile-infested river. And the bridge was on fire. And the crocodiles had rabies.

  The tunnel was narrow. Its edges flickered like static electricity, brushing against Rowan's spacesuit with showers of sparks. The luminous walls were light, flimsy, fraying around her.

  And through the rents, Rowan saw another reality.

  She had expected to see Earth's low orbit. But she gazed upon a world of indigo and charcoal swirls. A sky of lavender electricity crackled above. Lighting flared, revealing great beasts moving through nebulae, larger than whales. Smaller shadows hovered, limned with light, angels or demons in the mist.

  Consciousness.

  Consciousness flowed there. Incorporeal. Staring at her.

  Instinctively, Rowan clutched Lullaby.

  Static electricity sparked on her gun. She yelped, jerked, and kicked. Her foot tore through the tunnel, and—

  The images vanished around her.

  Rowan popped back into reality—her reality, her cosmos.

  She was floating through space, a hundred meters outside the Byzantium. Bay fell into space behind her. Around them, the little wormhole vanished like the funnel of a dying storm.

  We missed the starship.

  Rowan looked around her, panting. Below, a few kilometers away, she could make out a glint—the shuttle. Above her hovered the human fleet. Farther out, looming like storm clouds, orbited the basilisk armada.

  And the basilisks saw her.

  Hatches opened on their warships. Several Copperheads emerged and came flying toward Rowan and Bay.

  For an instant, paranoia filled Rowan.

  Coral betrayed us. She sent us out into space intentionally! We—

  She shoved the thought aside. Ridiculous. She was letting her petty jealousy overtake her senses.

  "Incoming!" Rowan shouted, pointing at the Copperheads.

  The Copperheads fired their lasers.

  Rowan fired Lullaby. But not at the Copperheads. She fired away from them.

  The recoil shoved Rowan backward. She knocked into Bay, and they hurled through space.

  The lasers flashed by, missing them by mere centimeters.

  Below, a laser beam slammed into the shuttle.

  The small vessel exploded.

  "Coral!" Bay cried.

  Rowan allowed herself no more terror. Not even for an instant. She gritted her teeth and fired Lullaby again and again. The recoil propelled her toward the Byzantium. She gripped Bay, pulling him with her. He finally came to his senses and began firing his own gun, giving them more speed.

  More lasers flew. The Copperheads came flying toward them.

  Rowan and Bay adjusted th
eir aim.

  They fired again.

  This time, they aimed at the Copperheads.

  Their bullets shattered the alien cockpits.

  A laser beam sliced through Rowan's arm, cutting through the bone, nearly severing the limb. She screamed.

  The Byzantium was joining the fray. A skeleton crew was aboard the frigate, and they opened fire, hammering the remaining Copperheads. An officer opened the airlock and cast out a rope. Rowan screamed again. The pain pulsed through her. Her blood was gushing. Vaguely, she was aware of Bay grabbing her with one hand, the rope with the other, and pulling them into the Byzantium.

  The airlock door slammed shut. Rowan fell to the floor, gasping. Her wound sizzled and dripped. She gazed at her arm, then hurriedly looked away. The laser had cut straight through her, carving through the humerus. Thankfully, the Harmonians were already busy flowing through the wound, healing her. But the little guys would need a lot of time to work. And the pain still pulsed through Rowan, and her blood still flowed.

  "Is there a medic aboard?" Bay cried. "We need a medic!"

  Rowan ignored him. She ignored the pain. She shoved herself up and wobbled toward a comm station. Blood pattered around her feet.

  She hit a few buttons, broadcasting her voice on an open signal.

  "Enough!" she cried. "Naja—ceasefire! Ceasefire!"

  But through the viewport, she saw the Rattlers taking assault formation. The delicate truce, which had lasted for a week, was about to end.

  Muck.

  Rowan knew the human fleet couldn't win. It was too soon! They hadn't yet found allies, recruited more human fighters. Damn it!

  Are we about to be wiped out?

  "Rowan, you need medical attention," Bay said. "You—"

  The door banged open.

  Coral stepped into the room.

  "Bay, I need you on the bridge!" the weaver said. "I'm about to open a portal—call the fleet through it!"

  Bay and Rowan both spun toward the weaver.

  "You're alive!" Bay said.